be mine, be kind (but be cruel to me)
krisoo, 6.5k, nc-17
Kyungsoo doesn't allow for a whole lot for PDA but he has other ways of making his desires known - a lifted eyebrow during accidental eye contact over a double date with Chanyeol and Kai to let Kris know he's thinking about it, the way he squeezes his dinner rolls meant for only Kris to understand. Then in the cab on the way home, a hand sneaking up Kris’ thigh, rubbing him through his jeans.
Kris knows what that means. He opens his thighs for it, leans back against the headrest with a smile, his whole body telling his boyfriend “yes” and leaving him room to work.
Kyungsoo just rubs, still looking out the window. If the cab driver glanced back, he’d think Kris was asleep and Kyungsoo was ignoring him. Kris’ cock flushes quickly; his skin prickles, his nipples rising, aware of how naked he is under his clothes. That’s how Kyungsoo gets him. Even collarless, even fully dressed and in public, he feels completely bare to a lover like that.
Kyungsoo makes him absolutely crazy. He’s confident and accomplished and so cute Kris wants to tear his hair out in handfuls and fall to his knees. Kyungsoo, miraculously, is totally on board with Kris’ desire to express his love through masochism. For every way Kris can think of himself suffering, Kyungsoo finds a way to make it some torturous predicament game, to make it even worse. He’s the heads to Kris’ tails, the moon to his stars. Plus when they’re alone he loves to cuddle and he cooks. Oh, and he’s definitely in the top ten guys Kris has ever seen. Eight of the other nine being porn stars.
Kris would follow him to hell and back without blinking.
Kyungsoo rubs his cock around the sides of his fly and Kris’ breath catches, steeling himself for the inevitable pain.
It doesn’t come. Kyungsoo gives a few pulse-jumping warning squeezes but does nothing except work his cock through his pants the whole ride home; by the time they get out of the cab, Kris is hard and nearly dizzy with anticipation.
Kyungsoo doesn’t even look at him. He’s in cruel, neglectful dominatrix mode. It drives Kris wild. Beaming, he follows Kyungsoo up the short stairs to their building’s elevator, hovering close but not daring to touch.
Kyungsoo stands opposite him on the ride up to their eighth story apartment. He smiles at Kris with a raised eyebrow, and Kris grins back, posture open to give Kyungsoo anything he wants. Kyungsoo swipes his eyes up and down the long line of Kris’ body, the bulge in his jeans. Kris takes his jacket off as Kyungsoo watches; he’d strip right there if it weren’t for the security cameras. It’s a gesture.
Kyungsoo smiles. Kris lives for that smile.
Kyungsoo gets to the door first, keys out, unlocking it while Kris, pulse spiking again, waits behind. Kyungsoo grabs a handful of Kris’ hair as they step in, shoving him to his knees as he kicks the door closed behind them.
“Oh, shit,” Kris says as he goes down, stumbling over the ledge where the shoe hall meets the hallway, banging his shins with a hiss.
“Naked,” Kyungsoo directs as he stands again and drops his jacket off his shoulders. “Bedroom.”
Kris kicks his shoes off and crawls.
By the foot of the bed he wriggles out of his clothes, tossing them all in the direction of the hamper with athletic aim. He doesn’t dare stroke his cock, even though he’s dying to. He’s not allowed to touch it without permission, not ever, unless he needs to piss, and Kyungsoo will be back at any moment. He kneels and spreads instead, hands folded behind his back and head down, staring at how his cock sticks out at a forty-five degree angle.
When his boyfriend’s small frame enters the doorway he switches the light on and walks right past Kris to the closet, opening the woven basket at the bottom where they keep their toys. Kris’ cock jerks. He hears the familiar jingle of the buckle on his collar and sighs to himself, closing his eyes. Soon there are delicate, warm hands on his jaw, lifting his chin and wrapping the leather around his throat.
“Better,” Kyungsoo says dispassionately, running a hand over Kris’ lower lip. “I feel like going hard. Do you feel up to it tonight?”
“Yessir,” Kris answers with a smile.
“Let me know if I go too far,” Kyungsoo answers, giving a tug on the front loop of Kris’ collar.
Kris nods with his mouth open.
“You’re cute,” Kyungsoo laughs, “hang on.”
He walks out of view and returns with a riding crop. Kris’ whole body heats.
Kyungsoo gives the loop of leather a kiss and holds it to Kris’ mouth. Smiling and holding Kyungsoo’s eyes, Kris kisses it, too.
“Lick,” Kyungsoo instructs with an affectionate smile and Kris opens his mouth to lav it dutifully with his eyes closed, revelling in the taste of leather.
The sting hits his cheek before he even has time to process that the crop has left his lips; his body braced without his mind even knowing what had happened. Then Kyungsoo’s holding him by the hair and cropping his pecs where there’s muscle, dancing around his nipples.
“Oh, fuck, shit,” Kris gasps, shifting on his knees and clutching at his own wrists. The skin is heating, the pain coming in little shocks, and then it stops.
“You want it on your nipples, slut?” Kyungsoo murmurs. He’s stepped right into Kris’ space now, one foot between his legs and the other outside his body. With his head held back, Kyungsoo’s crotch is right in his face - he can smell it through his slacks.
“Please, sir,” Kris asks, and then shouts as a strong blow lands right on his nipple.
“Such a cute face when you’re in pain,” Kyungsoo comments casually, stroking his hair, and it’s only then that Kris realizes his eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is open, breathing hard already and looking up at Kyungsoo pleadingly. Kyungsoo tugs his hair and they grin at each other, silently delighted.
“You want the other nipple?”
Kris’ grin turns mischievous. “You gonna give it to me anyway?”
Kyungsoo spits in his face and rumbles, “Beg.”
The saliva drips down Kris’ face, hot and disgusting; it covers one nostril and makes him snort to clear his airway. “Oh, fuck,” Kris moans as his cock throbs. He wants to dissolve; he wants to fight back. He wants Kyungsoo to beat him so thoroughly he doesn’t have the energy to be snarky anymore. “Please crop my other nipple, sir.”
Kyungsoo complies, moving his foot out of the way as he brings the crop down on Kris’ chest. Kris hiccups around a sob, knuckles paling behind his back as he pitches forward into Kyungsoo’s thigh.
“Good boy,” Kyungsoo murmurs, and Kris feels the first wave of that familiar glow warm him from the inside out. The saliva drips off him, cooling, and he concentrates on the praise.
“Thank you,” he responds, smiling, not entirely mindless yet.
Another rain of blows land across his chest, harder than the first wave. Now his skin is flush with blood, a protective barrier. Kyungsoo won’t be gentle on him there anymore. Kris starts to squirm and whimper as the blows continue, cock throbbing, until he’s cut short by a hand twisting in his hair. Still, still the blows come.
He whines and when Kyungsoo finally stops he’s breathless.
“Thank me, slut.”
“Thank you, sir!” Kris moans, pressing his face into Kyungsoo’s thigh and looking up at him. “Thank you, thank you-”
“For what?” Kyungsoo asks, not bothering to hold back his smile.
“For beating me, sir, thank you for beating me-”
“Mm.” Kyungsoo lets the crop dangle from the strap on his wrist and rubs Kris’ jaw thoughtfully, pushes two fingers into his mouth for Kris to suck on as he pants. Kris slurps around them without looking away from Kyungsoo’s face, catching his breath through his nose and waiting for more instructions or pain. Looking up at Kyungsoo like this from the floor feels so good; the collar is tight on his throat and Kris feels small, subservient.
Kyungsoo hums a little, his voice husky.
“I was already turned on when we were leaving the house, you know,” he mutters, stroking Kris’ hair and pushing his fingers deeper. Kris has to swallow around them not to gag. “During dinner I was thinking about how nice it would be to get you home and make you beg...”
Kris gurgles approval. The fingers hit the back of his throat; he sucks air through his nose and his eyes water.
“...to make you scream.”
Kris tries to sob and chokes on it.
Kyungsoo smiles, pulling his fingers back and dragging Kris’ mouth open.
“What do you want?”
“Hurt me please, sir.”
Kris can feel his boyfriend’s cock twitch against his face.
“You want to beg for me? Scream for me?”
“Sir..!”
Kyungsoo bends down and kisses Kris’ open mouth, reaching down to twist one sore nipple. Kris groans into his mouth, but stays still and lets Kyungsoo do as he likes.
When he pulls back, Kris is dazed and grinning.
Kyungsoo gets a better grip on his crop and runs it down Kris’ chest and belly. Kris sucks in air, abs fluttering under the leather. Kyungsoo bypasses his cock and balls, which both relieves and disappoints him, and rubs the loop against his inner thigh.
“Spread,” Kyungsoo directs, and Kris obeys.
He’s still staring up at Kyungsoo’s face; his breath is quick in anticipation. Kyungsoo loops two fingers in the o-ring of his collar and pulls. Kris rises an inch eagerly but sinks back down with the realization that Kyungsoo was just pulling enough for there to be tension, earning an affectionate chuckle from his partner.
“You want me to hurt you?”
“Yes, please-”
“Take the crop to your thighs?”
“Yes, sir-”
A blow lands, the sting sharp. Kris cries out without breaking eye contact, and Kyungsoo smiles cruelly and beats him again.
“Thank you, s- ohhh-h, thank you, sir!” Kris manages, interrupted by blows. Kyungsoo beats the outsides and the tops of his thighs, the whole visible surface of the skin starting to glow. What starts as individual welts of pain melts into a blurred, searing mass as the tip hits again and again. The air is peppered with swishes and snaps and the sound of Kris’ whimpers and bleats of gratitude.
Finally, the crop stops. Kris realizes he’s closed his eyes at some point. He opens them again, dizzy, struggling to focus on Kyungsoo’s face.
“Still good?”
“Yes, sir.”
This earns him an affectionate rub through the hair.
“Such a slut for pain, aren’t you? Your cock is hard.”
“Sir… Yes…”
“I’m going to hurt it.”
Kris closes his eyes and smiles, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath again, his heart jumping against his stomach at the promise. He can feel precome move up the shaft, beading at the end.
He really is a slut for it and Kyungsoo is a fantasy made flesh.
“Do you want that?”
“Yes, sir…”
When he opens his eyes, Kyungsoo is grinning at him, and Kris smiles back weakly.
“Are you scared?”
Kris laughs nervously. “Yeah.”
Kyungsoo bends to kiss him again, cupping his jaw. They both sigh into it. Kris is trembling.
“Do you need me to get the cuffs and the bar?”
Kris breathes for a second, trying to decide. Some nights he wants to keep going but wastes all his energy fighting himself to stay still instead of allowing the pain to just wash over him.
“If you wanna go rough, yeah,” he whispers with a dry mouth, and Kyungsoo nods and gives him a warm kiss.
Another wave of heat and security washes over Kris, trust and love. He wants to melt into Kyungsoo’s arms. That will come, as it always does, but he has to walk through the desert of Kyungsoo’s sadism before he can rest in his oasis. The restraints will make it easier to stay passive and just allow the sensations to come.
Kyungsoo returns with the equipment; Kris’ belly gives a nervous flutter at how inevitable the restraints make it seem. But then, that’s the point.
He offers his wrists and Kyungsoo brings them behind his back and cuffs them, fumbling with the buckles and then pulling them tight. Kris rolls his wrists, trying to breathe and settle into the feeling of emptiness that will smother him soon, the sense of being entirely at Kyungsoo’s mercy. Kyungsoo pushes his legs apart with his small, delicate hands and cuffs them to the spreader bar at the ankle. Kris is far from immobilized; he has plenty of room to wiggle and crawl, but can’t close his legs or use his hands.
Between his legs, his cock drips onto the carpet.
Those lovely hands press his jaw. Kris looks up for instructions but Kyungsoo is looking past him, pressing against his shoulders. Kris shuffles back, following Kyungsoo’s guidance, and Kyungsoo ties his cuffs to the bed frame behind him. They’re nearly slackless and bend his wrists up his back uncomfortably. His breathing grows shallow and quick as he imagines how he looks, balls dangling between his open legs like a punching bag, kneeling, naked, lowly.
Better yet, he looks up and takes in how Kyungsoo looks above him: dress shirt and slacks, the hard line of his cock pressed to the fly, eyebrows serious and perfect lips emotionlessly unbent, crop in hand.
Kris’ cock is drooling now, untouched. Kyungsoo’s hair is still perfect, gelled up for dinner; his belt fits snug over his tiny hips, his pants are perfectly ironed, his shoes leather and his socks matching. Kris loves him dressed up, but then he also loves him in pajamas, and in workout clothes, and in Kris’ bathrobe, and in nothing. Kris loves him.
Kyungoo’s eyes catch on his cock, smiling. “Having fun?” he asks, teasing, and Kris laughs out loud. The laugh is stressed, but genuine.
“Yes, sir,” he exhales, and his balls twitch with the realization that Kyungsoo will be torturing him soon. Adrenaline slams through him, heart flapping like a panicked butterfly in his chest, and Kyungsoo smiles and touches the crop to his cock.
Kris whimpers.
Kyungsoo flicks his eyes over Kris and reaches to rub his cock through his slacks. Kris’ mouth drops open, rolling his hips as if there was something in front of him to fuck for friction. His fingers flex uselessly behind him.
“You look so good,” Kris whispers, and Kyungsoo’s eyes flick up from his cock to his face, clearly lost in his own mind as well.
Kyungsoo laughs a little, eyes crunching as he smiles his heart-shaped smile. His eyes flick over Kris again. If Kris weren’t tied up he’d loop his arms around his waist right now and kiss him. As if on cue Kyungsoo swoops in close and gets down on one knee, his whole body pressed against Kris’, and his hands clutch at Kris’ face as he kisses him deeply.
Kris’ heart swells so big it aches. He wishes he could wrap his arms around Kyungsoo and hold him close, make him make that surprised sound he does when Kris grabs him unexpectedly - but then again, he doesn’t, because they both find it romantic to have him bound and unable to. His pulse slows as they kiss, groaning and panting as Kyungsoo bites at his lips and licks inside him and tries to swallow him whole. Kris grunts, sighs, moans, and Kyungsoo betrays his usual silence with a series of shuddering sighs. Their cocks are pressed to each other’s hips, rolling; it’s the most contact Kris’ dick has had yet, and it’s responsible for half of his guttural sounds.
“God, I could come just like this,” Kyungsoo laughs softly into his mouth as he finally slows the kisses. “Touching you, kissing you, tied up like this, naked, asking me…”
Kris giggles giddily, and sounds stupid even to himself. “Wow,” he manages, halfway to braindead.
“Subspace?” Kyungsoo asks, stroking his hair and sucking on his bottom lip.
Kris hums in response - Kyungsoo’s perfect lips wrapped around one of his own is very distracting. Kyungsoo gives him a gentle peck and then their lips part, foreheads still touching, breathing into each other’s lungs.
“What do you want?” Kyungsoo whispers, hands wandering across Kris’ torso.
“Own me.”
“Mm. Just love to hear you say it.”
He kisses up Kris’ jaw (Kris knows he loves the stubble) and tugs at his earring. Kris pants, rolling his head back, swimming in the delight that is his lover’s mouth.
“I have an idea for tonight, pet,” Kyungsoo whispers, and Kris flushes warm at the nickname. ‘Pet’ is so much sweeter than ‘slut’. He loves both in different ways. “My love…”
Kris tips his head in to show he’s listening, opening his eyes just a little.
Kyungsoo meets his eyes and strokes his forehead. “You want to hear the idea?”
Kris nods, smiling. Kyungsoo smiles back. “Yes, sir,” he answers obligingly.
Kyungsoo laughs from his chest, short and warm, looking at the crop in his hands. “Mm, okay,” he continues, fluffing Kris’ bangs up and leaning in to whisper in his ear again. “I want you to dominate me tonight.”
Kris’ eyes flicker over Kyungsoo’s face imploringly.
“What, you don’t want that?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows lifting. Then he smiles, almost a smirk. “So cute when you’re surprised,” he laughs, stroking Kris’ hair, and Kris realizes his jaw is hanging open, eyes wide. He laughs with Kyungsoo, just because Kyungsoo is laughing and he loves when Kyungsoo laughs.
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo whispers, continuing as his eyes roll over Kris’ face, taking him in. Kyungsoo’s voice is low and smooth, resonant. “Take all the power, control me… you call the shots…”
Kris says nothing, confused. Even if he wanted that - which, well, he’d do it for Kyungsoo if he wanted it even if it’s not especially hot to him - he’s too lost in his own brain chemistry now, doped on pain responders and essentially useless. He can’t do it.
“Mm, and this is how we’ll do it,” Kyungsoo murmurs right into his ear again, kissing his throat. Kris feels it in his cock. “You decide if I come or not… you decide how much of my clothes come off…”
Kris’s brain twists in his skull. He didn’t know Kyungsoo wanted this. He can’t do that now, why did Kyungsoo get him like this if he wanted…? He can’t do it, he’s going to disappoint Kyungsoo, he’s going to fail Kyungsoo… panic creeps up from his fluttering lungs to his mouth, drying it out.
“For every button I undo, for every item I drop, you buy it off me with pain.”
Kris blinks. Kyungsoo continues, voice thick and deep, vibrating out of his chest and right into Kris’ ear.
“A slap to the face for my shirt buttons… a crop to the balls for my fly…”
Kris’ balls tighten up, slammed with a wall of arousal as the pieces all fit together. Oh.
“And all you have to do to stop me from coming is call off the pain. If you stop suffering for me, I’ll go to bed frustrated and helpless, like you do so often…”
Kris groans, humphs a little, bites his lip and rolls his head back. His cock springs up, precome leaking towards the crown, and when he releases his lip it’s to pant raggedly, “Fuck, sir-”
“Do you want me to undress?” Kyungsoo whispers in his most seductive tone, and Kris tugs on the cuffs keeping his wrists secured to the bedframe.
“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes, turning his face in to beg for a kiss. Kyungsoo ignores it, rakes his fingernails down Kris’ chest and ribs as he stands, and Kris cries out, shudders, arches.
Suddenly the mood is heated.
“You want me naked?” Kyungsoo breathes fast, standing over Kris.
“Sir, yes-”
“You’re gonna suffer for it. You want me to come?”
“Sir, yes-”
“You’re gonna suffer for it.” Kyungsoo plants a foot on Kris’ bare shoulder and pushes him back against the bed, twisting his arms uncomfortably. Then, he mashes the sole of his shoe into Kris’ mouth and the bottom of his nose and instructs, “Lick.”
Kris does. The sole is salty, grainy; he gags a little at the thought of where it’s been and whines as Kyungsoo crushes his lips with the pressure. He breathes and focuses, imagines Kyungsoo’s pleasure, groans as he opens his mouth wider and licks again.
“Slut,” Kyungsoo breathes venomously, and Kris’ hips work helplessly against the air.
When he removes the foot Kris lays still, head tipped back against the mattress and one arm going prickly and numb. The crop brushes his cheek and guides him back to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes.
He’s running his fingers up and down his chest, stroking the seams.
Kris’ cock leaks helplessly. Kyungsoo is the sexiest man he’s ever seen.
“Want me to unbutton my shirt?”
“Please,” Kris begs, mouth wet from the salt and slow from arousal.
“Beg for your pay.”
“Please hurt me,” Kris moans, head lolling. The crop bites his cheek and Kris is too far gone to keep his cry quiet.
“Do you want another one?”
“Please hurt me,” he repeats, too far gone to be creative. Too far gone, too far gone, gone, gone, gone. By the time Kyungsoo’s shirt is open Kris is dizzy, incapable of anything but obedience.
“Look at me.”
Kyungsoo’s voice. Kris sits up and lifts his head and blood slams back into his pinned arm.
Kyungsoo’s shirt is open, his nipples peaked beneath his white undershirt. The shirt flaps in an open V, meeting at his belt buckle, where it’s still tucked in.
“What comes off next, baby?” Kyungsoo purrs, his voice suddenly soft and imploring. Submissive. Kris is confused.
A hand at his jaw. His knees ache. Kyungsoo lifts his chin, hands warm and slightly sweaty. “C’mon, baby, answer me or I’ll never be able to come. Please?”
Kyungsoo’s eyes are so beautiful. They’re the widest, roundest eyes in the world. They make Kris’ stomach do backflips.
Kris opens his mouth but he forgot what the question was.
“Shirt? Belt? Shoes?” Kyungsoo murmurs, wiping the drool that had flung from Kris’ mouth after a slap on the corner of his lips.
“Shirt,” Kris croaks numbly.
“Shirt… Shirt is nipple clamps. You want that?”
Kris nods a little.
“Beg.”
“Please clamp my nipples, sir,” Kris slurs, blinking up at his lover.
Kyungsoo smiles.
“Still good?” he murmurs, stroking the sweat on Kris’ forehead.
Kris nods again. “So good,” assures him, letting his head roll back. “I’ll tell you.”
Kyungsoo bites his lip and flicks his gaze over Kris lustily then vanishes from view.
Kris closes his eyes. The nipple clamps bite in a moment later.
“Belt off?”
“Sir, yeah…”
“Belt’s important. Five lashes to your cock.”
Kris’ cock twitches in response and more precome leaks from the tip.
“Please crop my cock,” Kris breathes.
“What was that? Louder.”
“Please crop my cock,” Kris repeats, groaning.
The leather bites into thin skin, stinging, and Kris roars in pain; it zings through him, jerking him up.
“Say it again. Beg me. Scream it.”
“Sir, please crop this slut’s cock!” Kris yells through his teeth, and the next four lashes leave him with his knees twisted in towards each other, doubled over, sobbing with his face pulled into a grimace. His cock spasms, burning all over from the wide head of the weapon; the flash of pain is over but the sting lingers. His balls press close to his body, a tear rolls down his cheek.
“Look at me.”
Kris raises his head cautiously. Kyungsoo’s belt is on the floor and he’s just in his slacks and undershirt now. He looks soft. Kris wants to lay his forehead on his sloping shoulder, feel the tears kissed from his cheek.
“Shit, that’s hot,” Kyungsoo hisses, and bites his lip. “God, I want to touch myself looking at you like this but I can’t until you let me. Fuck.”
There’s time for that later. He can’t fail Kyungsoo.
Kris laughs; he’s floating now, despite the fact that he can still feel the carpet cutting into his knees. The pain focused him a bit; his mind works, but he’s flying.
“What next?”
Kris looks him over and smiles a bit. “Undershirt.”
“Beating the clamps on your chest with the crop.”
Kris groans happily, a grin oozing across his face. “Fuck yes. Sir, please let me earn your pleasure like that.”
“How?”
“Sir, please whip my nipples-?”
Kyungsoo laughs out loud, clearly riding high himself. He pulls the crop high over his opposite shoulder, swinging backhand, and the clamp tears free painfully. Kris screams again, his burning cock pulsing, and the second one rips free before he has time to process the first one.
“Thank me.”
“Thank you, thank you!”
“Fuck, you’re hot. What now? Shoes?” Kyungsoo pants, obviously rushed now.
“Please!” Kris can see him through the blur of tears, shirtless, pale, nearly the same off-white as the walls in the yellow light of their bedroom. He’s so smooth, peaked nipples, slender throat-
“Fuck, you’re crying, fuck, that’s hot. Fuck the shoes, we’re skipping shoes and socks-” he hops on one leg, trying to pulls his shoes off while he talks. “Pants. Beg me for pants.”
“Sir, please let me earn you naked-”
“I’m gonna kick you in the balls. Five times.”
Kris wails from helplessness and feels his balls tighten in panic. “Oh my god-”
“You want it?”
“Oh my god, I want it, please-”
Kyungsoo stumbles from the awkward hop of pulling his socks off and steps straight into the kick, soft at first, smacking Kris’ balls with the top of his toes.
“Spread your legs, you fucking cumslut,” Kyungsoo hisses, and Kris smiles deliriously at the insult, opens his legs, feels his pulse jackhammer against his ribcage, humps the air.
The second blow is unforgiving; Kris is plenty warmed up to take it. Kyungsoo grabs him by the hair and hisses, “I said spread you piece of shit-” and Kris realizes he’d snapped them closed again. Kyungsoo shakes him by the hair after each kick until five, and Kris is grateful - without Kyungsoo’s grip in his hair, he’d have doubled over. Every part of him aches. The pain is frothing up his stomach, he’s gonna puke, he’s gonna go blind-
“Look at me,” Kyungsoo whispers, and when Kris blinks up Kyungsoo is flushed, breathing hard, running a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell, Kris-”
Kris can do nothing but drool and cry and sniffle. Kyungsoo is so gorgeous and Kris is a miserable used tissue, nothing but a leaking cock and a wet face. Thank god Kyungsoo has the sense to abuse him. He’s trash and he loves it.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Kyungsoo whispers, stroking Kris face and kissing the tears from his thumb. “Shit.”
Kris just hiccups, dribbling from the eyes and nose and dick.
“Just my underwear left,” Kyungsoo says, just his plain black briefs. “I’m messing them up just watching you. Ask.”
“What’s the price?”
“Ten kicks and lashes to the balls. If you close your legs, we start over.”
Kris hiccups and curls in on himself, bracing for the spike of pain up his spine.
“Please beat this slut’s balls, sir,” he grits out, and Kyungsoo’s too eager to make him do it a certain way.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans back, and Kris manages to keep his legs locked open on all ten blows on his first try. He’s shaking by the end, wracked by full-body shudders, gulping down air and holding it in long swallowed breaths.
Suddenly there’s a mouth on his, a smooth hot hand tearing at his hair and on his shoulder, a slick hot cock sliding up beside his own. Kris sobs openly into the kiss as Kyungsoo devours him, rushed, naked skin everywhere. Kyungsoo leans up to meet his lips even when they’re both on their knees.
Kris doesn’t have anything left to stop himself from crying. He just sobs, “Please, please-” into Kyungsoo’s mouth, and Kyungsoo strokes his hair, sucks on his lips. Kris wants to apologize for the snot but can’t.
“One more thing, one more thing,” Kyungsoo whispers reassuringly, and Kris doesn’t care anymore, it could be one thing our it could be a thousand, it could be over in a moment or he could be tied to this bed until he starved to death. He doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. Kyungsoo is kissing him. Kris is a miserable shell of a human being and Kyungsoo is kissing him.
“Can you take it?”
Kris’ head rolls back when Kyungsoo removes the hand supporting it.
“Kris?” he asks, kissing the corner of Kris mouth.
“I’m yours,” Kris croaks, and Kyungsoo laughs giddily against his jaw. Kyungsoo has the sweetest laugh in the whole world. Kris smiles.
“Do you want to stop the game, or finish?” Kyungsoo murmurs, kissing his jaw. Kris sniffs hard and lets his mouth hang open.
“I love you,” he breathes.
“Oh my god, you’re so cute,” Kyungsoo laughs, and Kris’ body feels lighter from that praise and the sweet hand on his face.
“Take me,” Kris manages, rolling to look at him. “Anything.”
Kyungsoo groans and presses up to him hard, cock-to-cock. “Anything?”
Kris cackles a bit, still spacey. “I don’t care. Do anything. Just be happy.”
Kyungsoo cackles back, nipping Kris’ pulse. “You’ll like this thing.”
“What’s the thing?” Kris breathes. He’s speaking whole sentences, kind of, but still hasn’t found the energy to lift his head on his own. Kyungsoo is the whole world.
“You have to buy my orgasm if I’m gonna come tonight,” Kyungsoo says, rutting in slow, slick thrusts against Kris’ cock. Kris can feel the skin sliding over the firm cores, every pore alive from the whipping. He’s thrusting back, grinding hard, bending his spine to reach. Their words are hushed, urgent when they speak.
“I wanna… make you come,” Kris hisses.
“Ask me what the price is,” Kyungsoo whispers, voice tense from desire, both hands in Kris’ hair as he whispers to his throat.
“What the price is?” Kris repeats blankly.
“Say it right or I won’t trust that you’re with me and end this now.”
“What’s the price?” Kris repeats, still on auto-pilot.
“Hurting your balls till you come just from pain,” Kyungsoo whispers, hands spidering down Kris’ body, and Kris sobs and laughs at the same time, smiling, fucking up hard against Kyungsoo’s cock right as it pulls away.
“I’m not allowed to touch my cock again till you come. You can do it, right?”
Kris noads blearily and braces for the onslaught.
Kyungsoo’s hands are so small as they cup his balls, so hot, so strong. It’s the first time he’d felt skin on skin that sensitive all night; they tickle, palming, rolling, making Kris groan and rut in absolute heavenly pleasure, and then suddenly his grip is tight and brutal.
Kris roars again, but closing his legs doesn’t help, pulling away makes it worse. He yanks on his restraints but Kyungsoo’s grip only gets tighter.
“Fuck, you’re so good, such a good slut,” Kyungsoo breathes, and the praise is offset by the agony. In the blinding pain Kris is doubled over, forehead against Kyungsoo’s shoulder like he dreamed of, screaming against a mouthful of bare, sweat-salted skin. Kyungsoo pulls, twists, crushes his balls without pause, without mercy. Kris swims in a world of pain.
“...so devoted, so obedient,” he hears, through a wave of suffering, and realizes Kyungsoo is just babbling praise at him. Fingernails dig into the thin skin of his scrotum; he howls, sobs, thighs shaking as he jackhammers his hips against Kyungsoo’s grip. The orgasm is building in him; he drowns in the pain, in the shame of loving it, in the pain, in the ecstasy of Kyungsoo’s pleasure, in the pain. He’s crying, thrashing until Kyungsoo fists a hand in his hair to still him. Then the hand is gone and appears again as a fist slamming down against Kris’ vulnerable balls, cupped in Kyungsoo’s tender opposite hand. Two blows, three blows, a steady rhythm. Kris gags on the agony, acid staining his mouth, and he shoots a load up his chest with an animalistic scream as Kyungsoo sweats and grunts and beats the tenderest parts of him unrelentingly.
“Oh my fucking god, shit-” Kyungsoo babbles, and then both hands are in Kris’ hair, semen added to the mix of sweat that slicks their chests, kissing his open wound of a mouth as he fucks up against Kris’ burning cock. Kris can’t hear what he’s saying for a while but it’s good, it’s good, Kyungsoo is happy, Kyungsoo is hard against his slowly draining cock, Kyungsoo is fucking up against him fast and hard, bodies sliding, mouths slipping, cock to cock, tongue to tongue, heart to heart.
Kyungsoo hiccups into his mouth, sounding weak and vulnerable and broken like he always does right before he comes, and then with a long, soft whimper he’s still against Kris’ exhausted body, except for the occasional twitch of his hips.
Come hits Kris’ collarbone. He mouths limply at Kyungsoo, aching for more kisses. Kyungsoo clings to him for a while, bruising his lips, murmuring nonsense praise, sucking deep hickeys into his clavicle as he laps up come - someone’s, Kris doesn’t know whose. When Kris’ eyes open it’s because Kyungsoo is pulling back, fisting wetness from his eyes.
“God,” Kyungsoo whispers, laughing again. “Wow. Fuck.”
Kris laughs; his head droops.
Kyungsoo kisses him again softly. “I’m going to untie you, baby, okay?”
Kris nods.
“Stay floating,” Kyungsoo whispers. “I’m going to take care of you. I’ll do everything. Kris, wow…”
Unbending his elbows hurts. Unbending his knees hurts. Kyungsoo helps him to his knees and pushes him back to the bed, climbing on top of him while his knees still dangle off, kissing the tears from his face and whispering warm, romantic things.
Another wave of sobs hits Kris in the chest. Kyungsoo loves him so much. He loves Kyungsoo so much. He feels everything so intensely right now.
Kyungsoo is kissing his fingertips, whispering to them. Kyungsoo is cradling his head, rocking him gently, kissing his temple. Kyungsoo is stroking his face and shoulders, petting him, murmuring to him.
When Kris comes back to Earth, he’s on his side, halfway in Kyungsoo’s lap, upper body scooped into his arms like a baby. Kyungsoo is kissing his cheeks and giggling to himself, stroking though Kris’ hair.
He listens for a while before he speaks.
“My angel, my knight,” Kyungsoo is murmuring. “You were so good. So good. I can’t believe we found each other. I’m never letting you go, love. Look at you, even crying, look how beautiful you are. I bet you’re asleep by now, I don’t even know why I’m talking-”
“-m’wake,” Kris mumbles, interrupting.
Kyungsoo bends to give him a kiss with a delighted laugh. “Oh! I totally thought you were gone.”
Kris smiles dreamily and closes his eyes again. “Soon.”
“I’m going to get up and get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back, don’t worry, I’ll be with you again in a second.” Another kiss lands on his lips, and then Kris is jostled as Kyungsoo’s thighs beneath him slide away. He rolls into the blankets and shivers; the shiver becomes a full-body shake a moment later, and by the time Kyungsoo returns, Kris is trembling against the pillows, teeth chattering.
It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. He’s expelling tension.
Kris looks up as Kyungsoo steps towards the bed with a laugh. “Ah, Kris,” he breathes- it’s the first time Kyungsoo has called him by his name since the taxi, he thinks, and Kris exhales dreamily. “Here, can you sit up? I have water for you.”
Weakly, Kris pushes himself upright. He feel Kyungsoo press warm against his back, sweet and soft. A bottle reaches his lips (bottles are better than cups, harder to spill); Kyungsoo tips it for him, murmuring, “There we go, there we go…”
Kris sucks it down greedily; he hadn’t realized he was thirsty until the bottle is empty and Kris is clinging to it with his own hands.
“You’ll have some more before bed, too,” Kyungsoo says, assertive and gentle. Kris rolls over and tuck himself between his boyfriend’s spread legs, face pressed to his naked ribs. He smells hot and salty; Kris makes a rumbling sound in his chest, eyelashes brushing Kyungsoo’s belly as he closes his eyes.
He takes inventory of his body. Sore knees, sore toes, the skin on his chest and thighs and balls burning warm, like a fireplace inside him where he and Kyungsoo can rest. Hands in his hair, sending ripples across his skin with their tenderness. An affectionate murmur, felt more than heard through Kyungsoo’s chest, telling him he was good, it’s over, he’s gorgeous, he’s lovely. Something cool and wet on his back, making him jump-
“Ah, that surprised face,” Kyungsoo chuckles. “Will you roll over so I can wipe you down?”
Kris chuckles back and rolls belly-up obediently, sighing as Kyungsoo works the washcloth over his collarbones, his chest, his belly, and carefully, carefully over his cock and balls. The memory of the pain washes over him; his balls tighten up a little, and Kyungsoo jibes at him gently, soft lips dragging over his V-line.
The washcloth is wetter when it meets his face, wiping away sweat and tears. Kyungsoo holds it above his mouth and he blows into it as directed, feeling babied, passive; Kyungsoo kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers, “Don’t sleep yet, don’t sleep yet- One more thing…”
Kris opens his eyes and smiles; Kyungsoo holds chocolate to his mouth, and by the time it’s all gone he’s not shaking anymore, and feels like he could talk again.
“That was a really good game,” Kris murmurs, sitting up a bit and reaching for Kyungsoo’s hand to kiss his knuckles. His voice is hoarse and his throat feels raw; it’s definitely bedtime. “Did it go how you wanted?”
Kyungsoo hums and rolls into Kris, face to face, side by side. “Except for the part where I was so turned on I skipped shoes and socks.”
Kris lets himself be kissed hungrily again, laughing. “Punish me for it later,” he murmurs, running his hands up the smooth dip of Kyungsoo’s waist.
“I don’t wanna punish you,” Kyungsoo whispers, low and sweet. “You did good.”
Kris nips his lip. “Fine. Just take your payment, no punishment.”
Kyungsoo smiles and pillows his perfect lips against Kris’ lower one. “Whatever.”
Kris runs his hand up Kyungsoo’s back, knees bumping through the blankets, grinning against his mouth. “Are you gonna make me beg?”
Kyungsoo laughs, snuggling down into Kris’ arms. Perfect. That’s exactly where Kris wants him, warm and small in his arms, close. “Okay, fine," he sighs. "I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Kris tucks his lips against Kyungsoo’s temple.
For a moment they’re quiet, feeling each other breathe.
“Bedtime?” Kris whispers, feeling Kyungsoo's small hand settle hot on his waist.
"Your collar-" Kyungsoo starts.
“Bedtime,” Kris repeats, and kisses Kyungsoo’s forehead.
Kyungsoo chuckles sleepily.
“I’ll get the light.”
+
comments encourage me to keep writing! :3
Kyungsoo doesn't allow for a whole lot for PDA but he has other ways of making his desires known - a lifted eyebrow during accidental eye contact over a double date with Chanyeol and Kai to let Kris know he's thinking about it, the way he squeezes his dinner rolls meant for only Kris to understand. Then in the cab on the way home, a hand sneaking up Kris’ thigh, rubbing him through his jeans.
Kris knows what that means. He opens his thighs for it, leans back against the headrest with a smile, his whole body telling his boyfriend “yes” and leaving him room to work.
Kyungsoo just rubs, still looking out the window. If the cab driver glanced back, he’d think Kris was asleep and Kyungsoo was ignoring him. Kris’ cock flushes quickly; his skin prickles, his nipples rising, aware of how naked he is under his clothes. That’s how Kyungsoo gets him. Even collarless, even fully dressed and in public, he feels completely bare to a lover like that.
Kyungsoo makes him absolutely crazy. He’s confident and accomplished and so cute Kris wants to tear his hair out in handfuls and fall to his knees. Kyungsoo, miraculously, is totally on board with Kris’ desire to express his love through masochism. For every way Kris can think of himself suffering, Kyungsoo finds a way to make it some torturous predicament game, to make it even worse. He’s the heads to Kris’ tails, the moon to his stars. Plus when they’re alone he loves to cuddle and he cooks. Oh, and he’s definitely in the top ten guys Kris has ever seen. Eight of the other nine being porn stars.
Kris would follow him to hell and back without blinking.
Kyungsoo rubs his cock around the sides of his fly and Kris’ breath catches, steeling himself for the inevitable pain.
It doesn’t come. Kyungsoo gives a few pulse-jumping warning squeezes but does nothing except work his cock through his pants the whole ride home; by the time they get out of the cab, Kris is hard and nearly dizzy with anticipation.
Kyungsoo doesn’t even look at him. He’s in cruel, neglectful dominatrix mode. It drives Kris wild. Beaming, he follows Kyungsoo up the short stairs to their building’s elevator, hovering close but not daring to touch.
Kyungsoo stands opposite him on the ride up to their eighth story apartment. He smiles at Kris with a raised eyebrow, and Kris grins back, posture open to give Kyungsoo anything he wants. Kyungsoo swipes his eyes up and down the long line of Kris’ body, the bulge in his jeans. Kris takes his jacket off as Kyungsoo watches; he’d strip right there if it weren’t for the security cameras. It’s a gesture.
Kyungsoo smiles. Kris lives for that smile.
Kyungsoo gets to the door first, keys out, unlocking it while Kris, pulse spiking again, waits behind. Kyungsoo grabs a handful of Kris’ hair as they step in, shoving him to his knees as he kicks the door closed behind them.
“Oh, shit,” Kris says as he goes down, stumbling over the ledge where the shoe hall meets the hallway, banging his shins with a hiss.
“Naked,” Kyungsoo directs as he stands again and drops his jacket off his shoulders. “Bedroom.”
Kris kicks his shoes off and crawls.
By the foot of the bed he wriggles out of his clothes, tossing them all in the direction of the hamper with athletic aim. He doesn’t dare stroke his cock, even though he’s dying to. He’s not allowed to touch it without permission, not ever, unless he needs to piss, and Kyungsoo will be back at any moment. He kneels and spreads instead, hands folded behind his back and head down, staring at how his cock sticks out at a forty-five degree angle.
When his boyfriend’s small frame enters the doorway he switches the light on and walks right past Kris to the closet, opening the woven basket at the bottom where they keep their toys. Kris’ cock jerks. He hears the familiar jingle of the buckle on his collar and sighs to himself, closing his eyes. Soon there are delicate, warm hands on his jaw, lifting his chin and wrapping the leather around his throat.
“Better,” Kyungsoo says dispassionately, running a hand over Kris’ lower lip. “I feel like going hard. Do you feel up to it tonight?”
“Yessir,” Kris answers with a smile.
“Let me know if I go too far,” Kyungsoo answers, giving a tug on the front loop of Kris’ collar.
Kris nods with his mouth open.
“You’re cute,” Kyungsoo laughs, “hang on.”
He walks out of view and returns with a riding crop. Kris’ whole body heats.
Kyungsoo gives the loop of leather a kiss and holds it to Kris’ mouth. Smiling and holding Kyungsoo’s eyes, Kris kisses it, too.
“Lick,” Kyungsoo instructs with an affectionate smile and Kris opens his mouth to lav it dutifully with his eyes closed, revelling in the taste of leather.
The sting hits his cheek before he even has time to process that the crop has left his lips; his body braced without his mind even knowing what had happened. Then Kyungsoo’s holding him by the hair and cropping his pecs where there’s muscle, dancing around his nipples.
“Oh, fuck, shit,” Kris gasps, shifting on his knees and clutching at his own wrists. The skin is heating, the pain coming in little shocks, and then it stops.
“You want it on your nipples, slut?” Kyungsoo murmurs. He’s stepped right into Kris’ space now, one foot between his legs and the other outside his body. With his head held back, Kyungsoo’s crotch is right in his face - he can smell it through his slacks.
“Please, sir,” Kris asks, and then shouts as a strong blow lands right on his nipple.
“Such a cute face when you’re in pain,” Kyungsoo comments casually, stroking his hair, and it’s only then that Kris realizes his eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is open, breathing hard already and looking up at Kyungsoo pleadingly. Kyungsoo tugs his hair and they grin at each other, silently delighted.
“You want the other nipple?”
Kris’ grin turns mischievous. “You gonna give it to me anyway?”
Kyungsoo spits in his face and rumbles, “Beg.”
The saliva drips down Kris’ face, hot and disgusting; it covers one nostril and makes him snort to clear his airway. “Oh, fuck,” Kris moans as his cock throbs. He wants to dissolve; he wants to fight back. He wants Kyungsoo to beat him so thoroughly he doesn’t have the energy to be snarky anymore. “Please crop my other nipple, sir.”
Kyungsoo complies, moving his foot out of the way as he brings the crop down on Kris’ chest. Kris hiccups around a sob, knuckles paling behind his back as he pitches forward into Kyungsoo’s thigh.
“Good boy,” Kyungsoo murmurs, and Kris feels the first wave of that familiar glow warm him from the inside out. The saliva drips off him, cooling, and he concentrates on the praise.
“Thank you,” he responds, smiling, not entirely mindless yet.
Another rain of blows land across his chest, harder than the first wave. Now his skin is flush with blood, a protective barrier. Kyungsoo won’t be gentle on him there anymore. Kris starts to squirm and whimper as the blows continue, cock throbbing, until he’s cut short by a hand twisting in his hair. Still, still the blows come.
He whines and when Kyungsoo finally stops he’s breathless.
“Thank me, slut.”
“Thank you, sir!” Kris moans, pressing his face into Kyungsoo’s thigh and looking up at him. “Thank you, thank you-”
“For what?” Kyungsoo asks, not bothering to hold back his smile.
“For beating me, sir, thank you for beating me-”
“Mm.” Kyungsoo lets the crop dangle from the strap on his wrist and rubs Kris’ jaw thoughtfully, pushes two fingers into his mouth for Kris to suck on as he pants. Kris slurps around them without looking away from Kyungsoo’s face, catching his breath through his nose and waiting for more instructions or pain. Looking up at Kyungsoo like this from the floor feels so good; the collar is tight on his throat and Kris feels small, subservient.
Kyungsoo hums a little, his voice husky.
“I was already turned on when we were leaving the house, you know,” he mutters, stroking Kris’ hair and pushing his fingers deeper. Kris has to swallow around them not to gag. “During dinner I was thinking about how nice it would be to get you home and make you beg...”
Kris gurgles approval. The fingers hit the back of his throat; he sucks air through his nose and his eyes water.
“...to make you scream.”
Kris tries to sob and chokes on it.
Kyungsoo smiles, pulling his fingers back and dragging Kris’ mouth open.
“What do you want?”
“Hurt me please, sir.”
Kris can feel his boyfriend’s cock twitch against his face.
“You want to beg for me? Scream for me?”
“Sir..!”
Kyungsoo bends down and kisses Kris’ open mouth, reaching down to twist one sore nipple. Kris groans into his mouth, but stays still and lets Kyungsoo do as he likes.
When he pulls back, Kris is dazed and grinning.
Kyungsoo gets a better grip on his crop and runs it down Kris’ chest and belly. Kris sucks in air, abs fluttering under the leather. Kyungsoo bypasses his cock and balls, which both relieves and disappoints him, and rubs the loop against his inner thigh.
“Spread,” Kyungsoo directs, and Kris obeys.
He’s still staring up at Kyungsoo’s face; his breath is quick in anticipation. Kyungsoo loops two fingers in the o-ring of his collar and pulls. Kris rises an inch eagerly but sinks back down with the realization that Kyungsoo was just pulling enough for there to be tension, earning an affectionate chuckle from his partner.
“You want me to hurt you?”
“Yes, please-”
“Take the crop to your thighs?”
“Yes, sir-”
A blow lands, the sting sharp. Kris cries out without breaking eye contact, and Kyungsoo smiles cruelly and beats him again.
“Thank you, s- ohhh-h, thank you, sir!” Kris manages, interrupted by blows. Kyungsoo beats the outsides and the tops of his thighs, the whole visible surface of the skin starting to glow. What starts as individual welts of pain melts into a blurred, searing mass as the tip hits again and again. The air is peppered with swishes and snaps and the sound of Kris’ whimpers and bleats of gratitude.
Finally, the crop stops. Kris realizes he’s closed his eyes at some point. He opens them again, dizzy, struggling to focus on Kyungsoo’s face.
“Still good?”
“Yes, sir.”
This earns him an affectionate rub through the hair.
“Such a slut for pain, aren’t you? Your cock is hard.”
“Sir… Yes…”
“I’m going to hurt it.”
Kris closes his eyes and smiles, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath again, his heart jumping against his stomach at the promise. He can feel precome move up the shaft, beading at the end.
He really is a slut for it and Kyungsoo is a fantasy made flesh.
“Do you want that?”
“Yes, sir…”
When he opens his eyes, Kyungsoo is grinning at him, and Kris smiles back weakly.
“Are you scared?”
Kris laughs nervously. “Yeah.”
Kyungsoo bends to kiss him again, cupping his jaw. They both sigh into it. Kris is trembling.
“Do you need me to get the cuffs and the bar?”
Kris breathes for a second, trying to decide. Some nights he wants to keep going but wastes all his energy fighting himself to stay still instead of allowing the pain to just wash over him.
“If you wanna go rough, yeah,” he whispers with a dry mouth, and Kyungsoo nods and gives him a warm kiss.
Another wave of heat and security washes over Kris, trust and love. He wants to melt into Kyungsoo’s arms. That will come, as it always does, but he has to walk through the desert of Kyungsoo’s sadism before he can rest in his oasis. The restraints will make it easier to stay passive and just allow the sensations to come.
Kyungsoo returns with the equipment; Kris’ belly gives a nervous flutter at how inevitable the restraints make it seem. But then, that’s the point.
He offers his wrists and Kyungsoo brings them behind his back and cuffs them, fumbling with the buckles and then pulling them tight. Kris rolls his wrists, trying to breathe and settle into the feeling of emptiness that will smother him soon, the sense of being entirely at Kyungsoo’s mercy. Kyungsoo pushes his legs apart with his small, delicate hands and cuffs them to the spreader bar at the ankle. Kris is far from immobilized; he has plenty of room to wiggle and crawl, but can’t close his legs or use his hands.
Between his legs, his cock drips onto the carpet.
Those lovely hands press his jaw. Kris looks up for instructions but Kyungsoo is looking past him, pressing against his shoulders. Kris shuffles back, following Kyungsoo’s guidance, and Kyungsoo ties his cuffs to the bed frame behind him. They’re nearly slackless and bend his wrists up his back uncomfortably. His breathing grows shallow and quick as he imagines how he looks, balls dangling between his open legs like a punching bag, kneeling, naked, lowly.
Better yet, he looks up and takes in how Kyungsoo looks above him: dress shirt and slacks, the hard line of his cock pressed to the fly, eyebrows serious and perfect lips emotionlessly unbent, crop in hand.
Kris’ cock is drooling now, untouched. Kyungsoo’s hair is still perfect, gelled up for dinner; his belt fits snug over his tiny hips, his pants are perfectly ironed, his shoes leather and his socks matching. Kris loves him dressed up, but then he also loves him in pajamas, and in workout clothes, and in Kris’ bathrobe, and in nothing. Kris loves him.
Kyungoo’s eyes catch on his cock, smiling. “Having fun?” he asks, teasing, and Kris laughs out loud. The laugh is stressed, but genuine.
“Yes, sir,” he exhales, and his balls twitch with the realization that Kyungsoo will be torturing him soon. Adrenaline slams through him, heart flapping like a panicked butterfly in his chest, and Kyungsoo smiles and touches the crop to his cock.
Kris whimpers.
Kyungsoo flicks his eyes over Kris and reaches to rub his cock through his slacks. Kris’ mouth drops open, rolling his hips as if there was something in front of him to fuck for friction. His fingers flex uselessly behind him.
“You look so good,” Kris whispers, and Kyungsoo’s eyes flick up from his cock to his face, clearly lost in his own mind as well.
Kyungsoo laughs a little, eyes crunching as he smiles his heart-shaped smile. His eyes flick over Kris again. If Kris weren’t tied up he’d loop his arms around his waist right now and kiss him. As if on cue Kyungsoo swoops in close and gets down on one knee, his whole body pressed against Kris’, and his hands clutch at Kris’ face as he kisses him deeply.
Kris’ heart swells so big it aches. He wishes he could wrap his arms around Kyungsoo and hold him close, make him make that surprised sound he does when Kris grabs him unexpectedly - but then again, he doesn’t, because they both find it romantic to have him bound and unable to. His pulse slows as they kiss, groaning and panting as Kyungsoo bites at his lips and licks inside him and tries to swallow him whole. Kris grunts, sighs, moans, and Kyungsoo betrays his usual silence with a series of shuddering sighs. Their cocks are pressed to each other’s hips, rolling; it’s the most contact Kris’ dick has had yet, and it’s responsible for half of his guttural sounds.
“God, I could come just like this,” Kyungsoo laughs softly into his mouth as he finally slows the kisses. “Touching you, kissing you, tied up like this, naked, asking me…”
Kris giggles giddily, and sounds stupid even to himself. “Wow,” he manages, halfway to braindead.
“Subspace?” Kyungsoo asks, stroking his hair and sucking on his bottom lip.
Kris hums in response - Kyungsoo’s perfect lips wrapped around one of his own is very distracting. Kyungsoo gives him a gentle peck and then their lips part, foreheads still touching, breathing into each other’s lungs.
“What do you want?” Kyungsoo whispers, hands wandering across Kris’ torso.
“Own me.”
“Mm. Just love to hear you say it.”
He kisses up Kris’ jaw (Kris knows he loves the stubble) and tugs at his earring. Kris pants, rolling his head back, swimming in the delight that is his lover’s mouth.
“I have an idea for tonight, pet,” Kyungsoo whispers, and Kris flushes warm at the nickname. ‘Pet’ is so much sweeter than ‘slut’. He loves both in different ways. “My love…”
Kris tips his head in to show he’s listening, opening his eyes just a little.
Kyungsoo meets his eyes and strokes his forehead. “You want to hear the idea?”
Kris nods, smiling. Kyungsoo smiles back. “Yes, sir,” he answers obligingly.
Kyungsoo laughs from his chest, short and warm, looking at the crop in his hands. “Mm, okay,” he continues, fluffing Kris’ bangs up and leaning in to whisper in his ear again. “I want you to dominate me tonight.”
Kris’ eyes flicker over Kyungsoo’s face imploringly.
“What, you don’t want that?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows lifting. Then he smiles, almost a smirk. “So cute when you’re surprised,” he laughs, stroking Kris’ hair, and Kris realizes his jaw is hanging open, eyes wide. He laughs with Kyungsoo, just because Kyungsoo is laughing and he loves when Kyungsoo laughs.
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo whispers, continuing as his eyes roll over Kris’ face, taking him in. Kyungsoo’s voice is low and smooth, resonant. “Take all the power, control me… you call the shots…”
Kris says nothing, confused. Even if he wanted that - which, well, he’d do it for Kyungsoo if he wanted it even if it’s not especially hot to him - he’s too lost in his own brain chemistry now, doped on pain responders and essentially useless. He can’t do it.
“Mm, and this is how we’ll do it,” Kyungsoo murmurs right into his ear again, kissing his throat. Kris feels it in his cock. “You decide if I come or not… you decide how much of my clothes come off…”
Kris’s brain twists in his skull. He didn’t know Kyungsoo wanted this. He can’t do that now, why did Kyungsoo get him like this if he wanted…? He can’t do it, he’s going to disappoint Kyungsoo, he’s going to fail Kyungsoo… panic creeps up from his fluttering lungs to his mouth, drying it out.
“For every button I undo, for every item I drop, you buy it off me with pain.”
Kris blinks. Kyungsoo continues, voice thick and deep, vibrating out of his chest and right into Kris’ ear.
“A slap to the face for my shirt buttons… a crop to the balls for my fly…”
Kris’ balls tighten up, slammed with a wall of arousal as the pieces all fit together. Oh.
“And all you have to do to stop me from coming is call off the pain. If you stop suffering for me, I’ll go to bed frustrated and helpless, like you do so often…”
Kris groans, humphs a little, bites his lip and rolls his head back. His cock springs up, precome leaking towards the crown, and when he releases his lip it’s to pant raggedly, “Fuck, sir-”
“Do you want me to undress?” Kyungsoo whispers in his most seductive tone, and Kris tugs on the cuffs keeping his wrists secured to the bedframe.
“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes, turning his face in to beg for a kiss. Kyungsoo ignores it, rakes his fingernails down Kris’ chest and ribs as he stands, and Kris cries out, shudders, arches.
Suddenly the mood is heated.
“You want me naked?” Kyungsoo breathes fast, standing over Kris.
“Sir, yes-”
“You’re gonna suffer for it. You want me to come?”
“Sir, yes-”
“You’re gonna suffer for it.” Kyungsoo plants a foot on Kris’ bare shoulder and pushes him back against the bed, twisting his arms uncomfortably. Then, he mashes the sole of his shoe into Kris’ mouth and the bottom of his nose and instructs, “Lick.”
Kris does. The sole is salty, grainy; he gags a little at the thought of where it’s been and whines as Kyungsoo crushes his lips with the pressure. He breathes and focuses, imagines Kyungsoo’s pleasure, groans as he opens his mouth wider and licks again.
“Slut,” Kyungsoo breathes venomously, and Kris’ hips work helplessly against the air.
When he removes the foot Kris lays still, head tipped back against the mattress and one arm going prickly and numb. The crop brushes his cheek and guides him back to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes.
He’s running his fingers up and down his chest, stroking the seams.
Kris’ cock leaks helplessly. Kyungsoo is the sexiest man he’s ever seen.
“Want me to unbutton my shirt?”
“Please,” Kris begs, mouth wet from the salt and slow from arousal.
“Beg for your pay.”
“Please hurt me,” Kris moans, head lolling. The crop bites his cheek and Kris is too far gone to keep his cry quiet.
“Do you want another one?”
“Please hurt me,” he repeats, too far gone to be creative. Too far gone, too far gone, gone, gone, gone. By the time Kyungsoo’s shirt is open Kris is dizzy, incapable of anything but obedience.
“Look at me.”
Kyungsoo’s voice. Kris sits up and lifts his head and blood slams back into his pinned arm.
Kyungsoo’s shirt is open, his nipples peaked beneath his white undershirt. The shirt flaps in an open V, meeting at his belt buckle, where it’s still tucked in.
“What comes off next, baby?” Kyungsoo purrs, his voice suddenly soft and imploring. Submissive. Kris is confused.
A hand at his jaw. His knees ache. Kyungsoo lifts his chin, hands warm and slightly sweaty. “C’mon, baby, answer me or I’ll never be able to come. Please?”
Kyungsoo’s eyes are so beautiful. They’re the widest, roundest eyes in the world. They make Kris’ stomach do backflips.
Kris opens his mouth but he forgot what the question was.
“Shirt? Belt? Shoes?” Kyungsoo murmurs, wiping the drool that had flung from Kris’ mouth after a slap on the corner of his lips.
“Shirt,” Kris croaks numbly.
“Shirt… Shirt is nipple clamps. You want that?”
Kris nods a little.
“Beg.”
“Please clamp my nipples, sir,” Kris slurs, blinking up at his lover.
Kyungsoo smiles.
“Still good?” he murmurs, stroking the sweat on Kris’ forehead.
Kris nods again. “So good,” assures him, letting his head roll back. “I’ll tell you.”
Kyungsoo bites his lip and flicks his gaze over Kris lustily then vanishes from view.
Kris closes his eyes. The nipple clamps bite in a moment later.
“Belt off?”
“Sir, yeah…”
“Belt’s important. Five lashes to your cock.”
Kris’ cock twitches in response and more precome leaks from the tip.
“Please crop my cock,” Kris breathes.
“What was that? Louder.”
“Please crop my cock,” Kris repeats, groaning.
The leather bites into thin skin, stinging, and Kris roars in pain; it zings through him, jerking him up.
“Say it again. Beg me. Scream it.”
“Sir, please crop this slut’s cock!” Kris yells through his teeth, and the next four lashes leave him with his knees twisted in towards each other, doubled over, sobbing with his face pulled into a grimace. His cock spasms, burning all over from the wide head of the weapon; the flash of pain is over but the sting lingers. His balls press close to his body, a tear rolls down his cheek.
“Look at me.”
Kris raises his head cautiously. Kyungsoo’s belt is on the floor and he’s just in his slacks and undershirt now. He looks soft. Kris wants to lay his forehead on his sloping shoulder, feel the tears kissed from his cheek.
“Shit, that’s hot,” Kyungsoo hisses, and bites his lip. “God, I want to touch myself looking at you like this but I can’t until you let me. Fuck.”
There’s time for that later. He can’t fail Kyungsoo.
Kris laughs; he’s floating now, despite the fact that he can still feel the carpet cutting into his knees. The pain focused him a bit; his mind works, but he’s flying.
“What next?”
Kris looks him over and smiles a bit. “Undershirt.”
“Beating the clamps on your chest with the crop.”
Kris groans happily, a grin oozing across his face. “Fuck yes. Sir, please let me earn your pleasure like that.”
“How?”
“Sir, please whip my nipples-?”
Kyungsoo laughs out loud, clearly riding high himself. He pulls the crop high over his opposite shoulder, swinging backhand, and the clamp tears free painfully. Kris screams again, his burning cock pulsing, and the second one rips free before he has time to process the first one.
“Thank me.”
“Thank you, thank you!”
“Fuck, you’re hot. What now? Shoes?” Kyungsoo pants, obviously rushed now.
“Please!” Kris can see him through the blur of tears, shirtless, pale, nearly the same off-white as the walls in the yellow light of their bedroom. He’s so smooth, peaked nipples, slender throat-
“Fuck, you’re crying, fuck, that’s hot. Fuck the shoes, we’re skipping shoes and socks-” he hops on one leg, trying to pulls his shoes off while he talks. “Pants. Beg me for pants.”
“Sir, please let me earn you naked-”
“I’m gonna kick you in the balls. Five times.”
Kris wails from helplessness and feels his balls tighten in panic. “Oh my god-”
“You want it?”
“Oh my god, I want it, please-”
Kyungsoo stumbles from the awkward hop of pulling his socks off and steps straight into the kick, soft at first, smacking Kris’ balls with the top of his toes.
“Spread your legs, you fucking cumslut,” Kyungsoo hisses, and Kris smiles deliriously at the insult, opens his legs, feels his pulse jackhammer against his ribcage, humps the air.
The second blow is unforgiving; Kris is plenty warmed up to take it. Kyungsoo grabs him by the hair and hisses, “I said spread you piece of shit-” and Kris realizes he’d snapped them closed again. Kyungsoo shakes him by the hair after each kick until five, and Kris is grateful - without Kyungsoo’s grip in his hair, he’d have doubled over. Every part of him aches. The pain is frothing up his stomach, he’s gonna puke, he’s gonna go blind-
“Look at me,” Kyungsoo whispers, and when Kris blinks up Kyungsoo is flushed, breathing hard, running a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell, Kris-”
Kris can do nothing but drool and cry and sniffle. Kyungsoo is so gorgeous and Kris is a miserable used tissue, nothing but a leaking cock and a wet face. Thank god Kyungsoo has the sense to abuse him. He’s trash and he loves it.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Kyungsoo whispers, stroking Kris face and kissing the tears from his thumb. “Shit.”
Kris just hiccups, dribbling from the eyes and nose and dick.
“Just my underwear left,” Kyungsoo says, just his plain black briefs. “I’m messing them up just watching you. Ask.”
“What’s the price?”
“Ten kicks and lashes to the balls. If you close your legs, we start over.”
Kris hiccups and curls in on himself, bracing for the spike of pain up his spine.
“Please beat this slut’s balls, sir,” he grits out, and Kyungsoo’s too eager to make him do it a certain way.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans back, and Kris manages to keep his legs locked open on all ten blows on his first try. He’s shaking by the end, wracked by full-body shudders, gulping down air and holding it in long swallowed breaths.
Suddenly there’s a mouth on his, a smooth hot hand tearing at his hair and on his shoulder, a slick hot cock sliding up beside his own. Kris sobs openly into the kiss as Kyungsoo devours him, rushed, naked skin everywhere. Kyungsoo leans up to meet his lips even when they’re both on their knees.
Kris doesn’t have anything left to stop himself from crying. He just sobs, “Please, please-” into Kyungsoo’s mouth, and Kyungsoo strokes his hair, sucks on his lips. Kris wants to apologize for the snot but can’t.
“One more thing, one more thing,” Kyungsoo whispers reassuringly, and Kris doesn’t care anymore, it could be one thing our it could be a thousand, it could be over in a moment or he could be tied to this bed until he starved to death. He doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. Kyungsoo is kissing him. Kris is a miserable shell of a human being and Kyungsoo is kissing him.
“Can you take it?”
Kris’ head rolls back when Kyungsoo removes the hand supporting it.
“Kris?” he asks, kissing the corner of Kris mouth.
“I’m yours,” Kris croaks, and Kyungsoo laughs giddily against his jaw. Kyungsoo has the sweetest laugh in the whole world. Kris smiles.
“Do you want to stop the game, or finish?” Kyungsoo murmurs, kissing his jaw. Kris sniffs hard and lets his mouth hang open.
“I love you,” he breathes.
“Oh my god, you’re so cute,” Kyungsoo laughs, and Kris’ body feels lighter from that praise and the sweet hand on his face.
“Take me,” Kris manages, rolling to look at him. “Anything.”
Kyungsoo groans and presses up to him hard, cock-to-cock. “Anything?”
Kris cackles a bit, still spacey. “I don’t care. Do anything. Just be happy.”
Kyungsoo cackles back, nipping Kris’ pulse. “You’ll like this thing.”
“What’s the thing?” Kris breathes. He’s speaking whole sentences, kind of, but still hasn’t found the energy to lift his head on his own. Kyungsoo is the whole world.
“You have to buy my orgasm if I’m gonna come tonight,” Kyungsoo says, rutting in slow, slick thrusts against Kris’ cock. Kris can feel the skin sliding over the firm cores, every pore alive from the whipping. He’s thrusting back, grinding hard, bending his spine to reach. Their words are hushed, urgent when they speak.
“I wanna… make you come,” Kris hisses.
“Ask me what the price is,” Kyungsoo whispers, voice tense from desire, both hands in Kris’ hair as he whispers to his throat.
“What the price is?” Kris repeats blankly.
“Say it right or I won’t trust that you’re with me and end this now.”
“What’s the price?” Kris repeats, still on auto-pilot.
“Hurting your balls till you come just from pain,” Kyungsoo whispers, hands spidering down Kris’ body, and Kris sobs and laughs at the same time, smiling, fucking up hard against Kyungsoo’s cock right as it pulls away.
“I’m not allowed to touch my cock again till you come. You can do it, right?”
Kris noads blearily and braces for the onslaught.
Kyungsoo’s hands are so small as they cup his balls, so hot, so strong. It’s the first time he’d felt skin on skin that sensitive all night; they tickle, palming, rolling, making Kris groan and rut in absolute heavenly pleasure, and then suddenly his grip is tight and brutal.
Kris roars again, but closing his legs doesn’t help, pulling away makes it worse. He yanks on his restraints but Kyungsoo’s grip only gets tighter.
“Fuck, you’re so good, such a good slut,” Kyungsoo breathes, and the praise is offset by the agony. In the blinding pain Kris is doubled over, forehead against Kyungsoo’s shoulder like he dreamed of, screaming against a mouthful of bare, sweat-salted skin. Kyungsoo pulls, twists, crushes his balls without pause, without mercy. Kris swims in a world of pain.
“...so devoted, so obedient,” he hears, through a wave of suffering, and realizes Kyungsoo is just babbling praise at him. Fingernails dig into the thin skin of his scrotum; he howls, sobs, thighs shaking as he jackhammers his hips against Kyungsoo’s grip. The orgasm is building in him; he drowns in the pain, in the shame of loving it, in the pain, in the ecstasy of Kyungsoo’s pleasure, in the pain. He’s crying, thrashing until Kyungsoo fists a hand in his hair to still him. Then the hand is gone and appears again as a fist slamming down against Kris’ vulnerable balls, cupped in Kyungsoo’s tender opposite hand. Two blows, three blows, a steady rhythm. Kris gags on the agony, acid staining his mouth, and he shoots a load up his chest with an animalistic scream as Kyungsoo sweats and grunts and beats the tenderest parts of him unrelentingly.
“Oh my fucking god, shit-” Kyungsoo babbles, and then both hands are in Kris’ hair, semen added to the mix of sweat that slicks their chests, kissing his open wound of a mouth as he fucks up against Kris’ burning cock. Kris can’t hear what he’s saying for a while but it’s good, it’s good, Kyungsoo is happy, Kyungsoo is hard against his slowly draining cock, Kyungsoo is fucking up against him fast and hard, bodies sliding, mouths slipping, cock to cock, tongue to tongue, heart to heart.
Kyungsoo hiccups into his mouth, sounding weak and vulnerable and broken like he always does right before he comes, and then with a long, soft whimper he’s still against Kris’ exhausted body, except for the occasional twitch of his hips.
Come hits Kris’ collarbone. He mouths limply at Kyungsoo, aching for more kisses. Kyungsoo clings to him for a while, bruising his lips, murmuring nonsense praise, sucking deep hickeys into his clavicle as he laps up come - someone’s, Kris doesn’t know whose. When Kris’ eyes open it’s because Kyungsoo is pulling back, fisting wetness from his eyes.
“God,” Kyungsoo whispers, laughing again. “Wow. Fuck.”
Kris laughs; his head droops.
Kyungsoo kisses him again softly. “I’m going to untie you, baby, okay?”
Kris nods.
“Stay floating,” Kyungsoo whispers. “I’m going to take care of you. I’ll do everything. Kris, wow…”
Unbending his elbows hurts. Unbending his knees hurts. Kyungsoo helps him to his knees and pushes him back to the bed, climbing on top of him while his knees still dangle off, kissing the tears from his face and whispering warm, romantic things.
Another wave of sobs hits Kris in the chest. Kyungsoo loves him so much. He loves Kyungsoo so much. He feels everything so intensely right now.
Kyungsoo is kissing his fingertips, whispering to them. Kyungsoo is cradling his head, rocking him gently, kissing his temple. Kyungsoo is stroking his face and shoulders, petting him, murmuring to him.
When Kris comes back to Earth, he’s on his side, halfway in Kyungsoo’s lap, upper body scooped into his arms like a baby. Kyungsoo is kissing his cheeks and giggling to himself, stroking though Kris’ hair.
He listens for a while before he speaks.
“My angel, my knight,” Kyungsoo is murmuring. “You were so good. So good. I can’t believe we found each other. I’m never letting you go, love. Look at you, even crying, look how beautiful you are. I bet you’re asleep by now, I don’t even know why I’m talking-”
“-m’wake,” Kris mumbles, interrupting.
Kyungsoo bends to give him a kiss with a delighted laugh. “Oh! I totally thought you were gone.”
Kris smiles dreamily and closes his eyes again. “Soon.”
“I’m going to get up and get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back, don’t worry, I’ll be with you again in a second.” Another kiss lands on his lips, and then Kris is jostled as Kyungsoo’s thighs beneath him slide away. He rolls into the blankets and shivers; the shiver becomes a full-body shake a moment later, and by the time Kyungsoo returns, Kris is trembling against the pillows, teeth chattering.
It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. He’s expelling tension.
Kris looks up as Kyungsoo steps towards the bed with a laugh. “Ah, Kris,” he breathes- it’s the first time Kyungsoo has called him by his name since the taxi, he thinks, and Kris exhales dreamily. “Here, can you sit up? I have water for you.”
Weakly, Kris pushes himself upright. He feel Kyungsoo press warm against his back, sweet and soft. A bottle reaches his lips (bottles are better than cups, harder to spill); Kyungsoo tips it for him, murmuring, “There we go, there we go…”
Kris sucks it down greedily; he hadn’t realized he was thirsty until the bottle is empty and Kris is clinging to it with his own hands.
“You’ll have some more before bed, too,” Kyungsoo says, assertive and gentle. Kris rolls over and tuck himself between his boyfriend’s spread legs, face pressed to his naked ribs. He smells hot and salty; Kris makes a rumbling sound in his chest, eyelashes brushing Kyungsoo’s belly as he closes his eyes.
He takes inventory of his body. Sore knees, sore toes, the skin on his chest and thighs and balls burning warm, like a fireplace inside him where he and Kyungsoo can rest. Hands in his hair, sending ripples across his skin with their tenderness. An affectionate murmur, felt more than heard through Kyungsoo’s chest, telling him he was good, it’s over, he’s gorgeous, he’s lovely. Something cool and wet on his back, making him jump-
“Ah, that surprised face,” Kyungsoo chuckles. “Will you roll over so I can wipe you down?”
Kris chuckles back and rolls belly-up obediently, sighing as Kyungsoo works the washcloth over his collarbones, his chest, his belly, and carefully, carefully over his cock and balls. The memory of the pain washes over him; his balls tighten up a little, and Kyungsoo jibes at him gently, soft lips dragging over his V-line.
The washcloth is wetter when it meets his face, wiping away sweat and tears. Kyungsoo holds it above his mouth and he blows into it as directed, feeling babied, passive; Kyungsoo kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers, “Don’t sleep yet, don’t sleep yet- One more thing…”
Kris opens his eyes and smiles; Kyungsoo holds chocolate to his mouth, and by the time it’s all gone he’s not shaking anymore, and feels like he could talk again.
“That was a really good game,” Kris murmurs, sitting up a bit and reaching for Kyungsoo’s hand to kiss his knuckles. His voice is hoarse and his throat feels raw; it’s definitely bedtime. “Did it go how you wanted?”
Kyungsoo hums and rolls into Kris, face to face, side by side. “Except for the part where I was so turned on I skipped shoes and socks.”
Kris lets himself be kissed hungrily again, laughing. “Punish me for it later,” he murmurs, running his hands up the smooth dip of Kyungsoo’s waist.
“I don’t wanna punish you,” Kyungsoo whispers, low and sweet. “You did good.”
Kris nips his lip. “Fine. Just take your payment, no punishment.”
Kyungsoo smiles and pillows his perfect lips against Kris’ lower one. “Whatever.”
Kris runs his hand up Kyungsoo’s back, knees bumping through the blankets, grinning against his mouth. “Are you gonna make me beg?”
Kyungsoo laughs, snuggling down into Kris’ arms. Perfect. That’s exactly where Kris wants him, warm and small in his arms, close. “Okay, fine," he sighs. "I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Kris tucks his lips against Kyungsoo’s temple.
For a moment they’re quiet, feeling each other breathe.
“Bedtime?” Kris whispers, feeling Kyungsoo's small hand settle hot on his waist.
"Your collar-" Kyungsoo starts.
“Bedtime,” Kris repeats, and kisses Kyungsoo’s forehead.
Kyungsoo chuckles sleepily.
“I’ll get the light.”
+
comments encourage me to keep writing! :3