[Day Eleven] For You, For Me
Title: For you, for me
Kink: small dom / big sub
Pairing(s): Chen / Tao
Word Count: ~3200
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: d/s themes, knife play, blood play, pain play
Summary: No matter how he pretends to act up, deep down Zitao is his - his to command, to spoil, to love.
"Have fun tonight?" Jongdae asks, voice mild, when they enter their apartment. Zitao's been teasing him all night - he's hilariously obvious, even when he was grinding against someone else, when he was wrapped against Sehun, against Jongin, blatantly ignoring his boyfriend. Even though Jongdae had known that it was just a show for him, he'd still felt riled up, wanting to do nothing more than tear Zitao away and march him out of there.
Instead, he'd sat, sipping his drink with a calmness he certainly hadn't felt inside, and just watched.
He hadn't even wanted to go out, had wanted to stay at home and perhaps have an early night, but Zitao had insisted, had given him his well practiced pleading look - the one that Jongdae should be immune to by now considering how much it gets used - and Jongdae had caved.
He almost reconsidered when he saw the way Zitao was dressed, but then he saw how vibrant he was, how excited, and out they went.
Zitao can be a brat sometimes and Jongdae has been told by others that he's far too indulgent with him. But - in Jongdae's defense, Zitao never crosses the line - he just likes to walk along it, see how much he can get away with, until Jongdae pulls him back.
"Did YOU have fun?" Zitao asks in response to his question, dancing backwards away from him. He's in high spirits, teasing, his attitude almost mocking, and Jongdae feels that familiar urge to bring him back down. He steps towards him, runs a hand up Zitao's chest, resting it across his throat. He can feel Zitao's pulse quicken under his fingers, picking up satisfyingly fast, even though he hasn't applied any pressure.
"You could just ask me, you know," Jongdae tells him, "If you want to play." He tightens his hand slightly and Zitao reacts almost immediately, pupils dilating and mouth dropping open a fraction.
Still, despite Zitao's obvious reaction, he manages to say cockily, though a little more muted than before, "It's more fun this way."
Not that Jongdae would ever tell him, but he's right. It is part of the fun - having someone like Zitao bend to his will. "Do you enjoy making me angry?" Jongdae asks calmly, and he can see a flash of panic in Zitao's eyes at the thought. Internally, Jongdae smiles. No matter how he pretends to act up, deep down Zitao is his - his to command, to spoil, to love.
"Go shower," Jongdae says, releasing him. "Then wait for me." He's half surprised when Zitao leaves without protest, but then, he is, always, Jongdae's good boy.
*
Jongdae takes his time making his way to the bedroom. He checks a few emails, busies himself in the kitchen, drinks a glass of water, and by the time he's treading quietly up the stairs at least 30 minutes have passed.
The door is open and he smiles to himself to find Zitao waiting at the foot of the bed, head bowed and hair damp. It's warm enough in the room that Zitao's nakedness should be comfortable enough, and there's no sign of goosebumps on his skin. He's sitting back on his haunches, most of the weight taken off his knees, hands clasped lightly in front of him, breathing slowly, and Jongdae watches him for a little while. Zitao doesn't make a sound, doesn't look up, even though he's no doubt registered Jongdae's presence. Jongdae feels a sense of pride at how far they've both come.
He rewards him with a quick stroke of his hair as he walks past on his way to their ensuite. Zitao visibly exhales at the touch but doesn't otherwise move.
Jongdae showers efficiently, a recognisable thrum of excitement and anticipation starting to build in his veins. Despite this, he's not in a hurry, each movement deliberate and considered as he cleans off the grime from the club. Once he's dried himself he doesn't bother to dress, returning to the bedroom and looking down at the back of Zitao's head.
"Up," he says quietly, just one word but Zitao rises immediately in a graceful motion. "Turn around."
Zitao spins and Jongdae can't help but smile at him when he almost overbalances, legs stiff from being in one position for too long, reaching a hand out to his waist to steady him.
"Come here," Jongdae tells him and Zitao does, presses in close, nosing at Jongdae's cheek until he relents and kisses him. He's eager in his kisses, too eager, too hungry, and Jongdae grips his jaw, holding him tightly to slow him down, ignoring the whine coming from Zitao's throat.
Zitao has always had little regard for personal space with the people he cares for, always so much, too much with the physical affection, and he's molded himself to Jongdae's body, draping his larger one over Jongdae like a living blanket. Punishment for him is to not be touched, to not allow to touch, but Jongdae doesn't want to punish him tonight, he wants to play, and with his spare hand he palms Zitao's ass, squeezes, and Zitao responds by grinding his groin against Jongdae's stomach.
Jongdae can feel that Zitao's partially aroused already. To be fair, Jongdae is as well, but he has better control than Zitao, won't let them get any further until they've had a conversation. "Tell me your safewords."
"Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to keep going." Zitao recites them easily, blandly, having said that exact phrase a hundred times, and Jongdae leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in amusement. Zitao used to whine about having to say it - it's not like I'm going to forget!, but apparently he's becoming more patient the older he gets.
Or perhaps Jongdae is finally rubbing off on him.
For Jongdae it's part of the ritual, just like giving them both time to mentally prepare before they start. He likes taking things slowly, so he can savour each reaction he pulls from Zitao, mull over them and consider his next move. Zitao though, is ever impatient, constantly wanting things now now now. It's one thing that Jongdae is both amused and is irritated by. That's Zitao in a nutshell though: his faults are part of his charm, his character, and they're the things that draw Jongdae to him.
"Good," Jongdae praises, and he doesn't miss the way Zitao lights up. "Get on the bed. On your back," he says, proud at the way Zitao scrambles to comply as he settles into position, stretching his arms above his head, crossing them at the wrists, the way Jongdae likes. This way his whole body is on display, lithe and long, and he's lovely, skin shimmering like gold in the dim lamp light. Jongdae trails a finger down the smooth line of his breastbone, down the middle of his abs and the trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton, making him shiver.
"Jongdae," Zitao says breathily, biting down on his lower lip, eyes aflame with anticipation and filled with trust. His fingers twitch, but even though it's against his nature he knows better than to move. If it were up to Zitao, he'd be upon Jongdae already, taking, giving, whatever he could, gorging himself until they were both full. And Jongdae likes that sometimes, likes setting Zitao loose to see what decadent havoc he can wreak, but sometimes - he likes this. Zitao: quiet, pliant, trusting, and solely - wholly - his.
"Yes?" Jongdae says in response, laying his palm across the top of Zitao's thigh, close but not close enough to where Zitao is aching to be touched. "What do you want, Taozi?"
"Anything," Zitao tells him. "You. Anything."
"Anything?" Jongdae asks, almost teasingly, stroking small circles into Zitao's skin with his thumb, rubbing over the tattoo Zitao has, watching in amusement as Zitao's erection twitches. "Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want my cock?" Zitao nods quickly, exhaling a frantic yes and Jongdae continues, "Do you really think you deserve it? The way you acted tonight, I'm not so sure. Maybe I'll make you watch as I get myself off. " Jongdae's done it before - left Zitao hard and wanting. There's been evenings when he's tied Zitao to the bed, stuffed him full with a vibrator in his ass, refusing permission for him to come.
However, there's been more evenings where he gives him what he wants.
"Please," Zitao whimpers, and as per usual, Jongdae caves under that gaze, that one that says I'm yours, all yours, please. Because while Zitao is so, so, pretty when he's pleading, he's even more beautiful when he's being spoilt and indulged, blossoming like the most stunning flower under love and attention. He leans up, giving Zitao a brief, soft kiss, feather light, before pulling away.
"Wait."
"Jongdae?" Zitao asks when he gets off the bed, leaving the room for a brief moment to go downstairs, but Jongdae ignores him, trusting that he'll obey. When he returns, he finds Zitao staring at him with wide eyes, but Jongdae smiles when he sees that he hasn't moved. He goes across the room to their closet, retrieving one last item before returning to the bed.
He sets a tube of lube and two additional items next to Zitao's legs, keeping them hidden from him, but shows him the last one, holding it up so it hangs between them. It's a thick blindfold, made of soft black material, one that they're both familiar with. He sees Zitao swallow hard - he always reacts strongly to any of his senses being dulled or restricted - but when he doesn't say a word, Jongdae kneels on the bed to fasten it around his eyes and then lies down next to him for a while. Jongdae half drapes himself over Zitao's body, stroking gently down the hard planes of his torso, knowing that he needs more contact when he's blindfolded, pressing their lips together, kissing him until Zitao is whimpering into his mouth.
He's so eager, so lovely. God, sometimes Jongdae wants to write his name into Zitao's skin in red so everyone knows that he's his. "You remember your safewords?" he asks again, just to be doubly sure, and also as a sign that he's about to start.
When Zitao huffs out an impatient 'yes', Jongdae makes himself comfortable between his spread legs, half hanging off the bed, Zitao craning his head to try and track his movements. He teases at the skin near Zitao's tattoo with his lips, his teeth. It's one of Jongdae's favourite things: a sign permanently etched into Zitao's skin of who he belongs to - and will always belong to.
"You're mine, aren't you, Taozi?" he asks mildly once he's satisfied with the mark he's created.
"Yes, yes," Zitao agrees immediately. "Please. Touch me," he adds, bucking his hips up in emphasis. And although Zitao is his, all his, it's a measure of how much Jongdae equally belongs to Zitao that he doesn't scold him for being demanding, but gives in to his request, wrapping his fingers around the hard shaft of his cock and stroking up and down a few times, Zitao moaning in a gratifying way at his light touch.
There's a bead of precome shimmering at the tip, milked out by Jongdae's fist, and he leans down to lick it up, savouring the salty bitterness, before running his tongue teasingly around the head. He continues to suck Zitao off for a while, getting him hot and worked up, and although Zitao whimpers and writhes underneath his mouth, he otherwise stays put, doesn't pluck off his blindfold even though his arms aren't restrained, and Jongdae wants to know how far he can push him, how much Zitao can take, see how good he can be for him.
Jongdae pulls off with a pop, and Zitao lets out a small noise of protest, but quiets when Jongdae speaks. "You're so gorgeous like this," he tells him, watching as a small blush crawls up Zitao's neck. "All laid out, ready for me to play with. You'd take whatever I give you, won't you?" His voice has gone rough with arousal, and with other partners Jongdae used to try and hide it, pretend that his control was absolute, but with Zitao he wants him to know the effect he has on him. As he talks, he picks up one of the knives he'd set by Zitao's legs earlier. They're both the same - handles brightly marked with different colours so they're never used for anything other than their play sessions - and earlier Jongdae had sterilised them both and placed one in the fridge. He picks up this one now. This knife has been completely dulled so it's impossible to cut anything, but even so Jongdae turns it so the non cutting edge of the blade is facing downwards, and sets this against Zitao's upper thigh, pressing lightly.
He can hear Zitao's shaky inhale as he realises the sensation on his skin. Although it's the blunt edge, Jongdae knows from testing it on himself in the past that it feels cold and sharp, and he pulls it back in a slow cutting motion as Zitao whimpers, his body tense and tightly wound as he tries to remain still. He toys with him for a while, dragging the back of the knife across the sensitive part of Zitao's stomach, all while telling him how wonderful he is, how beautiful, how gorgeous he looks all marked up with red staining his skin, making sure to watch him closely to monitor his reactions. Even though Zitao's breathing has picked up it's not too shallow, although tense he's not too rigid. He's still aroused, erection jutting out, still shiny with Jongdae's spit, and once satisfied that he isn't overwhelmed, Jongdae sets the knife down for a moment so he can slick up Zitao's entrance with lube, immediately working two fingers in so it'll burn a little, the way Zitao likes.
As he does this, he picks up the blunted knife with his free hand, trailing the back of the blade up Zitao's stomach, and when he runs the flat of it across his nipples, Zitao lets out a cry.
Zitao trusts him entirely, trusts Jongdae to only hurt him in the ways they've previously agreed, and it's heady, alluring, how much he gives and gives. So sometimes when they play Jongdae doesn't even need to cut him, just uses the threat of the knife to toy with him, to merely trace scratches over his skin.
But sometimes… sometimes Jongdae draws shallow lines, deep enough to bleed but not scar, over his chest, his legs, his stomach, dips his finger into the red and paints Zitao's lips with it. Kisses him messily until they're both smeared with it.
"Shhhh," Jongdae soothes, pressing the tip of knife into the centre of his chest as he continues to twist his fingers in and out, Zitao alternately whimpering and moaning in the most beautiful way, and Jongdae can't wait to fuck him, to fill him up. "Shhhhh."
Zitao stifles himself immediately even though it wasn't an order, presses his lips together, so good, so obedient that Jongdae is done with playing. He tosses the knife to one side and spreads Zitao's legs wider, barely able to wait anymore, positioning the head of his cock at Zitao's entrance. Although Zitao's hole is stretched from the fingering it still feels so fucking good when he slowly pushes in, so tight and warm. They both let out a low moan in unison, Zitao cutting his one off quickly as if it was involuntary, and Jongdae slides his hands up Zitao's arms to his crossed wrists, pinning him to the bed with his weight and saying, "It's okay, I want to hear you."
He sets a quick pace, relishing the drag of his cock with each thrust, loving the way Zitao is moaning for him as Jongdae tells him how beautiful he is, how perfect, how he was made to be fucked.
Zitao knows better than to come without permission but Jongdae can tell he's close, getting increasingly desperate for release, and despite his pleading, the soft low cries of please, oh God Jongdae, please, he doesn't relent, not yet, fucks him hard and fast, the sound of slapping skin punctuating each thrust.
He kisses him, swallowing his pleas, that familiar coil of pleasure building and building as he drives into Zitao's body. He comes quickly, burying himself as deeply as he can go, biting down on Zitao's collarbone to muffle his groan.
After his breathing has returned to normal, his cock and come still in Zitao's ass, he picks up the other knife - the unused one, the one he'd spent time in the kitchen sharpening earlier that evening, shucking off the blade protector.
"Be still," he warns as he grinds his softening cock into Zitao's prostate, quickly scores three parallel lines above Zitao's heart before throwing the knife to the floor. Zitao gasps, sucking in a shaky breath as he recognises the sensation and Jongdae presses his thumb to the wounds, making Zitao squirm in pain, in pleasure. "Come for me, Taozi," Jongdae whispers to him, pressing harder on the cuts, his other hand reaching down to wrap around Zitao's cock. It only takes a couple of twists, too rough to be entirely pleasurable, until Zitao cries out brokenly, Jongdae's name on his lips and his entire body spasming as he spurts between their bodies.
It takes a minute before Zitao comes to, and Jongdae waits, having rolled off but remaining next to him, stroking his clean fingers down his cheek until Zitao finally stirs.
"I'm going to take the blindfold off," Jongdae tells him, his voice gentle now that they've finished, untying the blindfold and carefully maneuvering Zitao's arms back down to his sides. "Are they sore?" he asks, giving them a quick rub. Zitao shakes his head, blinking blearily at him, still a bit hazy.
Jongdae presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back," he promises and Zitao barely reacts when he gets off the bed, retrieving the knife from the floor and replacing the blade protector. Then it's a quick trip to the bathroom for first aid supplies, to disinfect and dress Zitao's cuts, satisfying himself that he didn't make them too deep, and a cloth to wipe them both clean of drying sweat and come. They could probably both use another shower but it'll have to wait until morning.
When he returns to bed, Zitao curls into him immediately, warm and sated. "T'was good," he slurs into Jongdae's shoulder.
"That was good," Jongdae agrees. "You were good."
"Told you it was more fun this way," Zitao adds drowsily, and Jongdae chuckles, pulling him closer. He'll be a brat to the end but he's Jongdae's brat. There's a long silence, so long that Jongdae thinks he's fallen asleep, until he suddenly adds, "You're the only one I ever want."
He wonders if Zitao is feeling guilty for earlier tonight. He shouldn't - it doesn't matter. "I know, baby," he tells him, "I know. You're the only one I want too."
Kink: small dom / big sub
Pairing(s): Chen / Tao
Word Count: ~3200
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: d/s themes, knife play, blood play, pain play
Summary: No matter how he pretends to act up, deep down Zitao is his - his to command, to spoil, to love.
"Have fun tonight?" Jongdae asks, voice mild, when they enter their apartment. Zitao's been teasing him all night - he's hilariously obvious, even when he was grinding against someone else, when he was wrapped against Sehun, against Jongin, blatantly ignoring his boyfriend. Even though Jongdae had known that it was just a show for him, he'd still felt riled up, wanting to do nothing more than tear Zitao away and march him out of there.
Instead, he'd sat, sipping his drink with a calmness he certainly hadn't felt inside, and just watched.
He hadn't even wanted to go out, had wanted to stay at home and perhaps have an early night, but Zitao had insisted, had given him his well practiced pleading look - the one that Jongdae should be immune to by now considering how much it gets used - and Jongdae had caved.
He almost reconsidered when he saw the way Zitao was dressed, but then he saw how vibrant he was, how excited, and out they went.
Zitao can be a brat sometimes and Jongdae has been told by others that he's far too indulgent with him. But - in Jongdae's defense, Zitao never crosses the line - he just likes to walk along it, see how much he can get away with, until Jongdae pulls him back.
"Did YOU have fun?" Zitao asks in response to his question, dancing backwards away from him. He's in high spirits, teasing, his attitude almost mocking, and Jongdae feels that familiar urge to bring him back down. He steps towards him, runs a hand up Zitao's chest, resting it across his throat. He can feel Zitao's pulse quicken under his fingers, picking up satisfyingly fast, even though he hasn't applied any pressure.
"You could just ask me, you know," Jongdae tells him, "If you want to play." He tightens his hand slightly and Zitao reacts almost immediately, pupils dilating and mouth dropping open a fraction.
Still, despite Zitao's obvious reaction, he manages to say cockily, though a little more muted than before, "It's more fun this way."
Not that Jongdae would ever tell him, but he's right. It is part of the fun - having someone like Zitao bend to his will. "Do you enjoy making me angry?" Jongdae asks calmly, and he can see a flash of panic in Zitao's eyes at the thought. Internally, Jongdae smiles. No matter how he pretends to act up, deep down Zitao is his - his to command, to spoil, to love.
"Go shower," Jongdae says, releasing him. "Then wait for me." He's half surprised when Zitao leaves without protest, but then, he is, always, Jongdae's good boy.
*
Jongdae takes his time making his way to the bedroom. He checks a few emails, busies himself in the kitchen, drinks a glass of water, and by the time he's treading quietly up the stairs at least 30 minutes have passed.
The door is open and he smiles to himself to find Zitao waiting at the foot of the bed, head bowed and hair damp. It's warm enough in the room that Zitao's nakedness should be comfortable enough, and there's no sign of goosebumps on his skin. He's sitting back on his haunches, most of the weight taken off his knees, hands clasped lightly in front of him, breathing slowly, and Jongdae watches him for a little while. Zitao doesn't make a sound, doesn't look up, even though he's no doubt registered Jongdae's presence. Jongdae feels a sense of pride at how far they've both come.
He rewards him with a quick stroke of his hair as he walks past on his way to their ensuite. Zitao visibly exhales at the touch but doesn't otherwise move.
Jongdae showers efficiently, a recognisable thrum of excitement and anticipation starting to build in his veins. Despite this, he's not in a hurry, each movement deliberate and considered as he cleans off the grime from the club. Once he's dried himself he doesn't bother to dress, returning to the bedroom and looking down at the back of Zitao's head.
"Up," he says quietly, just one word but Zitao rises immediately in a graceful motion. "Turn around."
Zitao spins and Jongdae can't help but smile at him when he almost overbalances, legs stiff from being in one position for too long, reaching a hand out to his waist to steady him.
"Come here," Jongdae tells him and Zitao does, presses in close, nosing at Jongdae's cheek until he relents and kisses him. He's eager in his kisses, too eager, too hungry, and Jongdae grips his jaw, holding him tightly to slow him down, ignoring the whine coming from Zitao's throat.
Zitao has always had little regard for personal space with the people he cares for, always so much, too much with the physical affection, and he's molded himself to Jongdae's body, draping his larger one over Jongdae like a living blanket. Punishment for him is to not be touched, to not allow to touch, but Jongdae doesn't want to punish him tonight, he wants to play, and with his spare hand he palms Zitao's ass, squeezes, and Zitao responds by grinding his groin against Jongdae's stomach.
Jongdae can feel that Zitao's partially aroused already. To be fair, Jongdae is as well, but he has better control than Zitao, won't let them get any further until they've had a conversation. "Tell me your safewords."
"Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to keep going." Zitao recites them easily, blandly, having said that exact phrase a hundred times, and Jongdae leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in amusement. Zitao used to whine about having to say it - it's not like I'm going to forget!, but apparently he's becoming more patient the older he gets.
Or perhaps Jongdae is finally rubbing off on him.
For Jongdae it's part of the ritual, just like giving them both time to mentally prepare before they start. He likes taking things slowly, so he can savour each reaction he pulls from Zitao, mull over them and consider his next move. Zitao though, is ever impatient, constantly wanting things now now now. It's one thing that Jongdae is both amused and is irritated by. That's Zitao in a nutshell though: his faults are part of his charm, his character, and they're the things that draw Jongdae to him.
"Good," Jongdae praises, and he doesn't miss the way Zitao lights up. "Get on the bed. On your back," he says, proud at the way Zitao scrambles to comply as he settles into position, stretching his arms above his head, crossing them at the wrists, the way Jongdae likes. This way his whole body is on display, lithe and long, and he's lovely, skin shimmering like gold in the dim lamp light. Jongdae trails a finger down the smooth line of his breastbone, down the middle of his abs and the trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton, making him shiver.
"Jongdae," Zitao says breathily, biting down on his lower lip, eyes aflame with anticipation and filled with trust. His fingers twitch, but even though it's against his nature he knows better than to move. If it were up to Zitao, he'd be upon Jongdae already, taking, giving, whatever he could, gorging himself until they were both full. And Jongdae likes that sometimes, likes setting Zitao loose to see what decadent havoc he can wreak, but sometimes - he likes this. Zitao: quiet, pliant, trusting, and solely - wholly - his.
"Yes?" Jongdae says in response, laying his palm across the top of Zitao's thigh, close but not close enough to where Zitao is aching to be touched. "What do you want, Taozi?"
"Anything," Zitao tells him. "You. Anything."
"Anything?" Jongdae asks, almost teasingly, stroking small circles into Zitao's skin with his thumb, rubbing over the tattoo Zitao has, watching in amusement as Zitao's erection twitches. "Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want my cock?" Zitao nods quickly, exhaling a frantic yes and Jongdae continues, "Do you really think you deserve it? The way you acted tonight, I'm not so sure. Maybe I'll make you watch as I get myself off. " Jongdae's done it before - left Zitao hard and wanting. There's been evenings when he's tied Zitao to the bed, stuffed him full with a vibrator in his ass, refusing permission for him to come.
However, there's been more evenings where he gives him what he wants.
"Please," Zitao whimpers, and as per usual, Jongdae caves under that gaze, that one that says I'm yours, all yours, please. Because while Zitao is so, so, pretty when he's pleading, he's even more beautiful when he's being spoilt and indulged, blossoming like the most stunning flower under love and attention. He leans up, giving Zitao a brief, soft kiss, feather light, before pulling away.
"Wait."
"Jongdae?" Zitao asks when he gets off the bed, leaving the room for a brief moment to go downstairs, but Jongdae ignores him, trusting that he'll obey. When he returns, he finds Zitao staring at him with wide eyes, but Jongdae smiles when he sees that he hasn't moved. He goes across the room to their closet, retrieving one last item before returning to the bed.
He sets a tube of lube and two additional items next to Zitao's legs, keeping them hidden from him, but shows him the last one, holding it up so it hangs between them. It's a thick blindfold, made of soft black material, one that they're both familiar with. He sees Zitao swallow hard - he always reacts strongly to any of his senses being dulled or restricted - but when he doesn't say a word, Jongdae kneels on the bed to fasten it around his eyes and then lies down next to him for a while. Jongdae half drapes himself over Zitao's body, stroking gently down the hard planes of his torso, knowing that he needs more contact when he's blindfolded, pressing their lips together, kissing him until Zitao is whimpering into his mouth.
He's so eager, so lovely. God, sometimes Jongdae wants to write his name into Zitao's skin in red so everyone knows that he's his. "You remember your safewords?" he asks again, just to be doubly sure, and also as a sign that he's about to start.
When Zitao huffs out an impatient 'yes', Jongdae makes himself comfortable between his spread legs, half hanging off the bed, Zitao craning his head to try and track his movements. He teases at the skin near Zitao's tattoo with his lips, his teeth. It's one of Jongdae's favourite things: a sign permanently etched into Zitao's skin of who he belongs to - and will always belong to.
"You're mine, aren't you, Taozi?" he asks mildly once he's satisfied with the mark he's created.
"Yes, yes," Zitao agrees immediately. "Please. Touch me," he adds, bucking his hips up in emphasis. And although Zitao is his, all his, it's a measure of how much Jongdae equally belongs to Zitao that he doesn't scold him for being demanding, but gives in to his request, wrapping his fingers around the hard shaft of his cock and stroking up and down a few times, Zitao moaning in a gratifying way at his light touch.
There's a bead of precome shimmering at the tip, milked out by Jongdae's fist, and he leans down to lick it up, savouring the salty bitterness, before running his tongue teasingly around the head. He continues to suck Zitao off for a while, getting him hot and worked up, and although Zitao whimpers and writhes underneath his mouth, he otherwise stays put, doesn't pluck off his blindfold even though his arms aren't restrained, and Jongdae wants to know how far he can push him, how much Zitao can take, see how good he can be for him.
Jongdae pulls off with a pop, and Zitao lets out a small noise of protest, but quiets when Jongdae speaks. "You're so gorgeous like this," he tells him, watching as a small blush crawls up Zitao's neck. "All laid out, ready for me to play with. You'd take whatever I give you, won't you?" His voice has gone rough with arousal, and with other partners Jongdae used to try and hide it, pretend that his control was absolute, but with Zitao he wants him to know the effect he has on him. As he talks, he picks up one of the knives he'd set by Zitao's legs earlier. They're both the same - handles brightly marked with different colours so they're never used for anything other than their play sessions - and earlier Jongdae had sterilised them both and placed one in the fridge. He picks up this one now. This knife has been completely dulled so it's impossible to cut anything, but even so Jongdae turns it so the non cutting edge of the blade is facing downwards, and sets this against Zitao's upper thigh, pressing lightly.
He can hear Zitao's shaky inhale as he realises the sensation on his skin. Although it's the blunt edge, Jongdae knows from testing it on himself in the past that it feels cold and sharp, and he pulls it back in a slow cutting motion as Zitao whimpers, his body tense and tightly wound as he tries to remain still. He toys with him for a while, dragging the back of the knife across the sensitive part of Zitao's stomach, all while telling him how wonderful he is, how beautiful, how gorgeous he looks all marked up with red staining his skin, making sure to watch him closely to monitor his reactions. Even though Zitao's breathing has picked up it's not too shallow, although tense he's not too rigid. He's still aroused, erection jutting out, still shiny with Jongdae's spit, and once satisfied that he isn't overwhelmed, Jongdae sets the knife down for a moment so he can slick up Zitao's entrance with lube, immediately working two fingers in so it'll burn a little, the way Zitao likes.
As he does this, he picks up the blunted knife with his free hand, trailing the back of the blade up Zitao's stomach, and when he runs the flat of it across his nipples, Zitao lets out a cry.
Zitao trusts him entirely, trusts Jongdae to only hurt him in the ways they've previously agreed, and it's heady, alluring, how much he gives and gives. So sometimes when they play Jongdae doesn't even need to cut him, just uses the threat of the knife to toy with him, to merely trace scratches over his skin.
But sometimes… sometimes Jongdae draws shallow lines, deep enough to bleed but not scar, over his chest, his legs, his stomach, dips his finger into the red and paints Zitao's lips with it. Kisses him messily until they're both smeared with it.
"Shhhh," Jongdae soothes, pressing the tip of knife into the centre of his chest as he continues to twist his fingers in and out, Zitao alternately whimpering and moaning in the most beautiful way, and Jongdae can't wait to fuck him, to fill him up. "Shhhhh."
Zitao stifles himself immediately even though it wasn't an order, presses his lips together, so good, so obedient that Jongdae is done with playing. He tosses the knife to one side and spreads Zitao's legs wider, barely able to wait anymore, positioning the head of his cock at Zitao's entrance. Although Zitao's hole is stretched from the fingering it still feels so fucking good when he slowly pushes in, so tight and warm. They both let out a low moan in unison, Zitao cutting his one off quickly as if it was involuntary, and Jongdae slides his hands up Zitao's arms to his crossed wrists, pinning him to the bed with his weight and saying, "It's okay, I want to hear you."
He sets a quick pace, relishing the drag of his cock with each thrust, loving the way Zitao is moaning for him as Jongdae tells him how beautiful he is, how perfect, how he was made to be fucked.
Zitao knows better than to come without permission but Jongdae can tell he's close, getting increasingly desperate for release, and despite his pleading, the soft low cries of please, oh God Jongdae, please, he doesn't relent, not yet, fucks him hard and fast, the sound of slapping skin punctuating each thrust.
He kisses him, swallowing his pleas, that familiar coil of pleasure building and building as he drives into Zitao's body. He comes quickly, burying himself as deeply as he can go, biting down on Zitao's collarbone to muffle his groan.
After his breathing has returned to normal, his cock and come still in Zitao's ass, he picks up the other knife - the unused one, the one he'd spent time in the kitchen sharpening earlier that evening, shucking off the blade protector.
"Be still," he warns as he grinds his softening cock into Zitao's prostate, quickly scores three parallel lines above Zitao's heart before throwing the knife to the floor. Zitao gasps, sucking in a shaky breath as he recognises the sensation and Jongdae presses his thumb to the wounds, making Zitao squirm in pain, in pleasure. "Come for me, Taozi," Jongdae whispers to him, pressing harder on the cuts, his other hand reaching down to wrap around Zitao's cock. It only takes a couple of twists, too rough to be entirely pleasurable, until Zitao cries out brokenly, Jongdae's name on his lips and his entire body spasming as he spurts between their bodies.
It takes a minute before Zitao comes to, and Jongdae waits, having rolled off but remaining next to him, stroking his clean fingers down his cheek until Zitao finally stirs.
"I'm going to take the blindfold off," Jongdae tells him, his voice gentle now that they've finished, untying the blindfold and carefully maneuvering Zitao's arms back down to his sides. "Are they sore?" he asks, giving them a quick rub. Zitao shakes his head, blinking blearily at him, still a bit hazy.
Jongdae presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back," he promises and Zitao barely reacts when he gets off the bed, retrieving the knife from the floor and replacing the blade protector. Then it's a quick trip to the bathroom for first aid supplies, to disinfect and dress Zitao's cuts, satisfying himself that he didn't make them too deep, and a cloth to wipe them both clean of drying sweat and come. They could probably both use another shower but it'll have to wait until morning.
When he returns to bed, Zitao curls into him immediately, warm and sated. "T'was good," he slurs into Jongdae's shoulder.
"That was good," Jongdae agrees. "You were good."
"Told you it was more fun this way," Zitao adds drowsily, and Jongdae chuckles, pulling him closer. He'll be a brat to the end but he's Jongdae's brat. There's a long silence, so long that Jongdae thinks he's fallen asleep, until he suddenly adds, "You're the only one I ever want."
He wonders if Zitao is feeling guilty for earlier tonight. He shouldn't - it doesn't matter. "I know, baby," he tells him, "I know. You're the only one I want too."