New Fic! On/Tae NC17 Pretty Boy in Pink
Author addicterated
Title Pretty Boy in Pink
Pairing Onew/Taemin
Genre Romance, Erotica, BDSM
Rating NC17
Word Count 5065
Warnings Jinki being insanely hot, does that count? Power exchange, light cross dressing, Dominance/Submission, Spanking, Toys... Voyeurism *SIR is Onew just fyi*
Summary On a business trip to a conference, Taemin is mistaken for a working boy of another kind.
Notes Okay so... I know I owe updates on fic. But updates on fic are not coming so I had to write something or my head was going to explode. In an effort to help kill my writer's block I've been reading a fair amount of Erotica. The idea for this fic came from a short story by Erika Masten. I then adapted, changed and wrote it for On/Tae. With thanks to min7girl for companionship, friendship and all the fic you write girlfriend <3
Taemin shifts a little in his seat, shaking out the folds of the newspaper he's pretending to read. His dinner is finished and there's a glass of wine on the table that he's sipping from occasionally. Conferences like this are a part of the job he could really do without, and he still has two days to go of the week long event. Oh well, at least he can spend some time people watching.
He lets his eyes slide to the side, around the edge of the newspaper and feels his face flush and his eyes widen as he spots another one of those "encounters" he's been noticing since he's been here. He bites his lip and fastens his gaze back on the business section, even though he's not reading a word. It took him an embarrassingly long time to catch on. It's an expensive and well known hotel after all, he should have realized.
A truly beautiful young man sitting alone in the restaurant is joined by someone who looks a lot like a rather nondescript older brother or even uncle. Heaven forbid he should look old enough to be the first man's father, Taemin thinks with a small shudder. There's an exchange of birthday card or wrapped gift or something of the sort. There's a small discreet exclamation of delight and in a little while the pair walk off together with the pretty one clinging adoringly to the other man's arm.
Of course. The pretty men are prostitutes and the pantomime of the gift exchange is a way of offering the price of admission as it were. He unconsciously bites his lip and shifts a little in his seat. Taemin couldn't help but fantasize a bit, imagining what it might be like to be bought for the night. Of course, he didn't imagine the client as any of the men he's seen making offers here in the hotel. No, his fantasy man was someone else. A business traveler like himself, dressed in a softly clinging lightweight purple knit sweater and slacks the last time Taemin had seen him.
Taemin tosses down the paper and stares at the tablecloth before him, taking a small sip of his wine as a sense of frustration washes through him. He'd spent the last two evenings stealing peeks of his fantasy man in fact, taking mental notes of the sleek soft waves of hair cut long over his brow and brushing past the edges of his collar in back. The stranger's eyes were dark, his nose strong and with a slight bump as if it had been broken at some point. He had a perfect smile, Taemin muses, with soft looking sensual lips. His shoulders were strong and there was a suggestion of toned muscle in his torso and arms, tapering down to slim hips and firm thighs and the speculation about what was hidden in his fitted trousers made Taemin sweat. There was something about the man that made Taemin feel powerfully attracted even though their gazes had never even crossed nor had they spoken. He sighs and lifts his face to glance around the restaurant.
Perhaps he should go back to his room and get some sleep.
"Good evening," a deep and soothing male voice greets him just a few minutes after he begins idly watching one of the hosts wandering around the restaurant. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was detained with business."
Taemin looks up, eyes widening as he finds himself staring into the deep brown eyes of his fantasy man. The same man he's been watching surreptitiously every time they've both been in the restaurant. He blinks a few times, so surprised that he barely even registers the way the man is speaking to him as if they know each other. He sits down in the chair beside Taemin's, folding the extremely expensive looking leather trench coat over the back of the seat as he does so.
"I hope you weren't waiting too long," the stranger says warmly, gazing into Taemin's eyes.
Up close, the man is even better looking than he was in all of Taemin's peeking. He's wearing a beautifully crisp looking white dress shirt, collar opened a button or two and simple statement cufflinks of black onyx and platinum fastening his French cuffs into place. The shirt is quite thin, giving the suggestion of the warm skin beneath it - tucked in neatly beneath the waist line of a pair of dark blue pinstriped trousers. Taemin takes a sip of his wine before he starts drooling, especially when he registers that his fantasy man also smells wonderful... the lightest trace of some masculine cologne reaching his nose after a moment. God
Taemin opens his mouth to explain that the stranger must be making some kind of mistake but before he can get the first words out a warm finger is laid lightly over his lips to shush him. He has the insane urge to lick the man's skin and find out how he tastes, to suck the finger into his mouth and see if those dark eyes get even darker and more intense. He bites the inside of his cheek and remains silent, gazing at the stranger questioningly.
From the pocket of his coat, the stranger pulls out a paperback novel and places it facedown on the table. Two fingers slide the book across the surface and then the man sits back with a faint smile curling his sensuous lips. "You know the book?" he asks.
Automatically Taemin reaches for the book and registers that it seems somehow padded. He's so mesmerised by the stranger's presence at his table, talking to him that it takes him a few seconds to refocus his attention on the book. He bites his lip, holding in a gasp of surprise when he flicks open the back of the book and finds it generously stuffed with high denomination bills. Long lashes flutter against his flushed cheeks as Taemin realizes that the stranger has made an even bigger mistake than he first thought.
He thinks I'm a prostitute he's ordered for tonight! A part of him considers getting angry about the assumption, but he's also intrigued, interested, aroused, even fascinated at the idea. As he hesitates, not sure what to do, he turns the book over in his hands and his stomach clenches. The book is a rather famous gay bdsm novel. It's also one of Taemin's favorite books. He feels goose bumps spread over his skin under the lightweight button down and khakis he's wearing.
"I... yes, I do," he manages quietly, peeking at the stranger through his lashes and warmed by the half-smile that blooms on the other man's lips.
"Excellent. Then you'll know what I expect." There's a brief pause and warm fingers close lightly around his wrist in a touch Taemin feels is subtly posessive. "What is your safe word?"
Taemin licks his lips and tries frantically to think of a word to use. He also tries to make himself tell this beautiful stranger that he's made a mistake. But the words won't leave his throat, somehow. "Never," he finally says, his voice soft even to his own ears.
"Never it is," the stranger murmurs.
There's a small pause and Taemin is almost painfully aware of the warm fingers on his wrist and the thumb moving lightly against the sensitive veins on the underside. "What... um... what would you like me to call you?" he asks, cursing himself for stuttering rather than sounding calm and professional.
The stranger's smile becomes wickedly alluring. "You will call me Sir." He passes over a gift wrapped box large enough for a shirt or some other garment along with a room key card and Taemin notes that the card is for one of the expensive upper floor suites of the hotel a bit dizzily. Is he really going to do this?
"I want you at my door in 30 minutes wearing only what's contained in this box. If you're late, I will punish you." He stands up, then leans over, brushing his warm palm against Taemin's flushed cheek. "Don't be late."
Taemin barely remembers to check his watch for the time as the other man pulls away and walks calmly out of the restaurant. Standing, Taemin tosses down some money for his drink and gathers up the book stuffed with cash, the keycard and the gift box and rushes out of the restaurant to head for the elevator.
Safely inside his hotel room, he places the gift box on the dresser and tears through the wrapping in record time. Taemin tosses off the top of the box and paws through the tissue paper to get to the items inside. What he finds almost gives him a heart attack and then all the blood drains into his cock and balls. He looks at his own face in the mirror and knows there's no way he can back out of this... not without regretting at least taking the chance it could be amazing.
The contents are, one pair of baby pink boxer shorts that look as if they are actually intended for a girl. One very beautiful Paul Smith striped silk tie is underneath that and finally a set of baby pink braided leather wrist bands, studded and adorned with chain fasteners and D rings. Telling himself to breathe, he darts into the bathroom for a quick scrub up before donning the items requested. It never even occurs to Taemin to question the color of the items...interestingly enough. Maybe his fantasy man has a fetish for pink.
It takes him only a few minutes for a quick wash and even quicker pat dry with a fresh towel before he wiggles himself into the soft silk shorts. They fit a little low on his hips, and it takes a bit of maneuvering to find enough room for his dick but somehow Taemin manages. He's shivering with excitement, fear, desire, hope, and anxiety by the time he gets the cuffs clipped into place on his slim wrists and the tie draped in what he hopes is an alluring manner around his throat. But wait, he can't go traipsing around the hotel dressed like this. What if someone from the conference sees him. He flicks through the very utilitarian and business focussed attire in his suitcase and the small wardrobe of the hotel room but all that he finds are his old and rather grungy worn flannel bath robe or the white fleece cape he bought for his best friend as a joke.
But wait... the cape has a hood and if it will fit Kibum, it should fit him also. And it has a certain elegant something about it. Now anxious over every second passing, Taemin rips through the plastic bag the cape is hanging in and drapes the soft white fabric around his bare shoulders - finding the loose sleeves and flipping up the hood with quick hands. There's a few frog closures to hold the fabric together so he should hopefully not be flashing anyone and he slips his feet into a pair of shower thongs for the quick trip upstairs.
Almost running, Taemin scampers to the elevator, waits impatiently for the doors to open and again on the 10th floor then rushes down the hall to the suite number picked out in gold on the key card he was given. He pauses to take a deep breath at the door, not wanting to seem anything but professional as he arrives at his "client's" door. Kicking out of the thongs, Taemin slips out of the cape and scoops up the thin shoes, bundling the fabric and shoes together over his arm then knocks a few times on the door of the suite. When there's no answer, Taemin uses the key card to let himself in.
"Hello, Sir?" he calls softly in the dim light that greets him as the door of the hotel room swings shut behind him with a firm snap.
Hotel room, Taemin sees as he glances quickly around himself in the quiet, is really not the right word for the stranger's accommodations. Suite fits it better since he seems to be standing in a kind of foyer and there's a door open on what he assumes is a tiny coat closet then the area opens out.
That's all he's given time to see as his fantasy man steps in front of him and gently but firmly yanks his burden of fleece cape and shower shoes out of Taemin's arms and disposes of it in the open closet with quick impatient motions. Then Taemin is being pushed into the wall by a firm, warm, strong male body and his whole being seems to seize for a moment with the overwhelming pleasure of that sensation.
"I knew you'd be such a good boy for me," Sir says against Taemin's throat. His hands take hold of Taemin's and pull them over his head, holding them pinned while a string of hot open mouthed kisses glide over Taemin's sensitive neck and jaw and end with a decadent drag of teeth over his earlobe. Taemin feels himself pulse in response, arching up against the promising bulge he can feel pushing hard against his hip.
"Oh God, Fuck, he breathes in a low and suffocated voice, tipping his head back against the wall to give Sir greater access.
"Language," Sir's voice scolds and the press of teeth inflict sensual punishment on the curve of Taemin's bare shoulder. Taemin whines instantly, at the same time arching his back into that hard delicious insistent pressure against his hip. He twists against the grip on his wrists, struggling a little in an effort to touch and caress Sir as well but the effort is useless. Though the grip is painlss, it's also impossible to escape.
The realization makes Taemin moan even more, and he has to fight not to swear again in the sheer overload of arousal and fear and desire and anxiety twisting into hot coils in his stomach.
"Rule 1," Sir begins, freeing one hand to slide down Taemin's rib cage and side and thigh then hitching Taemin's thigh up along his own hip. "No swearing, pretty boy." His breath skates over Taemin's shoulder and neck and his one hand is just as good as two at holding Taemin prisoner.
"Nnngh, Sir... please..." Taemin begins, hardly even knowing what he's begging for except that he needs more and more. The soft silk of the boxers he's wearing is already stretched almost painfully tight against his swelling erection.
"Shhhh," Sir soothes but his body is pressing in tight against Taemin's - crowding him right into the wall so that their two covered erections rub together. And God, Sir feels huge, demanding, and there's an edgy sense of danger throbbing between them as well. It makes Taemin want to climb the wall.
"Rule 2," Sir continues after a short burning interval of that luscious deep sweet voice all but growling in Taemin's ear as they grind together. "No orgasms without permission," he purrs, dropping his head so that Taemin feels the cool sweep of Sir's silky hair against his chest a moment before the hot flick of Sir's tongue assaults his hard nipples.
Taemin feels his toes curl, his body hitch up against the soft burn of Sir's mouth on his sensitive skin and a quivering pulse slides through his erection leaving a spreading circle of damp on the silk boxers he's wearing. He can't imagine how he possibly can keep from climaxing when he's already so fucking hard, aching and heavy with lust. One touch on his bare cock and he fears he'll explode. Still he has no protest in him, the words wouldn't form even if he wanted them to.
"Rule 3," Sir begins and pulls back out of the reach of Taemin's arching hips and squirming body while still holding him prisoner against the wall.
Taemin makes himself focus on Sir's handsome face, on the strong elegant lines of his throat and shoulders as revealed in the cling of his dress shirt. God, this man is so gorgeous it's almost impossible to stay conscious... and the effort to keep the bubbling swear words of utter worship behind his teeth makes Taemin quiver even more. Their eyes meet for a moment and Taemin feels one finger glide lightly over his cheekbone and down his jaw.
"If I tell you to do something that frightens you or is too painful.... remember to say 'Never'. I want pleasure from you, pretty boy and nothing more." Sir's dark eyes are so stern, so demanding that Taemin wonders how anyone ever denies him anything.
"Yes, Sir," he breathes. "I'll remember." Privately though, Taemin thinks he'll never use the safe word at all.
Sir steps back then, just a pace or two but Taemin feels a whimper of loss rise to his lips and break free just the same. Sir's body feels like heat and power and demand against his own and Taemin already craves the sensations of his touch almost unbearably. He stays against the wall as Sir left him, dropping his eyes after a brief incandescent eye contact passes between them.
Taemin slips his tongue out to moisten his desert dry lips, completely aware of the other man in a way he's never experienced before. His skin feels hot all over, damp with a light sheen of sweat despite the cool air from the air conditioning vents. He shifts his head, tossing the soft strands of his hair back from his face as if anything but Sir can possibly cool him down at this point.
"You have the most beautiful porcelain skin," Sir comments after the silence seems to stretch endlessly. "I can't help but imagine that you bruise up so prettily." As the deep tones roll over Taemin, Sir's wide palm lays against his sternum and presses firmly in a silent demand that Taemin stay where he is.
Taemin catches his breath, the thought of being bruised by this man, this sensuous and powerful stranger right out of his deepest fantasies is far from frightening. He widens his stance a bit to ease the tightness of his underpants as his whole body prickles with excitement at the idea of seeing red marks, or purple-blue rising on his own skin from Sir's handling.
The hand that rests against Taemin's skin slides down slowly, brushing with demanding pressure against Taemin's rib cage and over his belly. It's not a caress that touch, but it does feel amazing. Taemin finds himself biting his lip, hoping and praying for the friction to glide over his trapped cock... and yet terrified he might lose control of himself when the touch is granted.
"You're so beautifully sensitive," Sir praises, reaching out with both hands now to curl around Taemin's hip bones and massage the sides of his body. His thumbs are pressing, exploring the hard bulge of Taemin's erection at the same time, mercilessly stimulating. "Exactly what I was hoping for."
Taemin doesn't know how to reply to the purring words, to the indulgent and even affection lilt in Sir's voice. It's hard to concentrate on anything more than lifting his hips into those hands tormenting him in just the way he always has fantasized about.
"Oh, God, Sir... Ffff.... can't.... "
"You can," Sir orders sharply, and nips at Taemin's lower lip as if to remind him to keep the dirty words out of his mouth. "Nothing is more beautiful or more arousing than to see a sweet submissive like you struggling so hard against your own responses."
One hand slips down, skating over the silk boxers now damp and tight around Taemin's cock and balls. Sir's hand cups the swollen round shape of his balls and massages, pressing further back to apply knowing pressure to Taemin's perineum and along the crack of his ass.
Taemin is moaning and gasping non stop, held against the wall by Sir's dark glance while his hips roll and shift and twist against the waves of firm even slightly cruel stimulation washing over him. He could have come a half dozen times from the way Sir touches and toys with him through the thin silk. He can't imagine how he'll live through anything even more intimate.
"Does it... am I... are you..." Taemin stammers, his eyes wide and pupils blown after a long breathless period of wanting to scream for just the right touch and the permission to get off. Sir's face is so intent, so completely focused that Taemin suddenly wonders if this is even affecting him at all, despite the promising hard bulge against the perfectly tailored pinstripe trousers.
Deft hands leave off their sweet torture and sweep up to the tie still draped around Taemin's throat. He sags against the wall, hitching himself against the air shamelessly. He suddenly feels the soft silk tie drawn tight but not chokingly so around his neck, formed into a smooth slip knot. Sir pulls at the tie, silently urging Taemin away from the wall.
Taemin decides he doesn't dare try to walk at this point and slithers down to his hands and knees, noticing that the tie seems to be extra long... allowing just enough room so that he can crawl beside Sir without suffering lack of air.
Sir leads him in silence into the next room, set up as a small sitting area. They cross the soft carpeting and Sir sits down in a large leather arm chair, spreading his muscular legs to leave a space for Taemin to kneel.
"Does this?" he prompts, holding the tie in his hand though leaving a good bit of play in the length when Taemin stills.
Feeling those hard firm muscles brushing against his sides, seeing the light sheen of dampness on Sir's sculpted cheekbones and along his collarbones turns Taemin on even more... though it doesn't seem possible. He wants to unfasten those neatly done buttons, loosen the cufflinks and lick every square inch he can find beneath the shirt. Then he wants to do the same thing to the skin under Sir's trousers....slowly, passionately, endlessly, sucking Sir's tantalizingly large erection right down his throat or try his hardest to do so.
Taemin swallows, forcing himself to return his attention to Sir's face and those demanding eyes. "Does this... does touching me... making me whimper and moan... please you?" he asks softly, even shyly.
Sir laughs softly and takes Taemin's hand... letting Taemin's palm press butterfly lightly against the bulge in his pants. The feel of him, hot, heavy, almost painfully masculine twists Taemin's insides into knots and he gasps softly, knowing his face is contorting with the extremity of his passion for the other man.
"What do you think, pretty boy?" Sir asks.
"Yes.... oh God... yes," Taemin breathes shakily and looks at Sir with wide dark hungry eyes.
"Am I?" Sir repeats, reaching down and beginning to loose the fly of his trousers at last. Taemin finds himself raptly watching each button come open and has to think hard a moment before he remembers what he was thinking.
"I... Am I? What you expecting? What you wanted?" Licking his lips, Taemin stutters out the words, still painfully aware that this stranger thinks he's someone else altogether.
The fly opens at last and with a low groan, Sir lets himself spring free of the confinement of dark boxers and fine tailored pants. Taemin finds himself digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching out with both hands to caress Sir's erection. Taemin's seen a few naked men in his life, watched a few porn movies of various sorts besides. But this man... as far as Taemin is concerned, this man... at this moment... is a God.
"Much, much more than I expected," Sir answers after an aching pause.
Taemin almost purrs with pleasure at the praise, dragging his longing glance from Sir's lap back to his face.
"Thank you Sir," Taemin says softly.
"Are you?" Sir prompts, repeating the third of Taemin's stuttered questions of a moment ago.
"Oh... um... Oh, Sir... Are you going to let me suck you off, Sir? Are you going to fuck me until I scream? God, please Sir..." There's this odd sensation of letting go, of release that Taemin doesn't really understand and has no ability to analyze right now. All of a sudden words are flying out of his mouth and the word 'Sir' has never felt so good on his tongue before.
Sir's soft lips curve in a slow and sultry smile at the anxious questions. "Most likely," he answers, "several times over... until you are too sore to take me any longer."
Taemin whimpers, eyes falling closed at the implications of that answer. The idea of being completely, totally, taken over and over again until he literally can't any more sweeps over his feverish mind and makes his every nerve quiver with excitement.
"I won't be satisfied until your jaw is aching, your tight little hole is red and swollen and your hands are too weak to jerk me off any longer," Sir continues, his voice calm, inexorable, insistent.
"Please, please, please...." Taemin whispers. He knows better to lay hands on Sir without permission or invitation, but oh he wants to so very badly.
"However," Sir's voice changes and Taemin looks up into his eyes, captivated yet again by the mesmerising strength of Sir's glance. "Didn't I tell you to watch your language, pretty boy?"
Taemin's eyes go wide and then wider. "I didn't mean... I'm so sorry Sir... I ...I didn't think," He was so busy craving Sir's big fat dick that he hadn't even thought about using the forbidden f-word. He squirms on his knees, almost shuddering at the uncertainty of what will happen next.
"But, you want to please me - don't you?" Sir asks, reaching out and taking a handful of Taemin's soft hair, pulling it hard enough so that his scalp prickles with a sensation right on the very edge of pleasure and pain. "You want to obey me - don't you?"
Taemin mewls in the grasp, arching his back, almost boneless as he's drawn half across Sir's thighs. "Yes... yes... I do... so badly..." It's nothing less than the truth...his heart actually hurts at the thought of such a simple failure.
Suddenly his face is pressed against the arm of the chair and his body draped sideways over Sir's thighs. Taemin can feel the other man's erection against his bare stomach and that's a torment all of its own. His bare feet find the floor to balance him but he's painfully aware of both his excitement and his remorse, his desire and his fear.
"Then let me give you something to help you remember to keep your pretty mouth clean." Sir says, and there's a jerk and a ripping sound, the boxers coming loose from Taemin's hips.
Taemin moans, trying his best not to hump himself over Sir's hard cock, his own pressed against Sir's thigh. He digs his nails into the arm of the chair trying to steady himself but really the cool air on his ass cheeks feels almost like a blow in itself.
"Sir... please Sir," Taemin mutters, dragging his teeth against his lip.
Sir opens a drawer in the table beside the chair and then there's the familiar sound of a cap popping open, a squeezing sound and then something cool is pressed against his ass. Before Taemin even knows it, the small thin vibrator slips inside him, driven by Sir's strong hand. The thing is already turned on, vibrating ruthlessly against his prostate. Taemin wants to cry at the intense stimulation. There's no way he can resist it... his whole body has been too excited for too long and Sir's thigh is right there.
It's while he's thinking about this, bracing himself as best he can against the pleasure sweeping over him that the first blow slaps against his thigh... right at the place where his thigh meets his ass. It's a good hard blow, strobing his vision white with a burst of pain that mingles so perfectly with the vibrating pleasure that Taemin cries out loud.
"Count, pretty boy. And do not even think about coming." Sir purrs the words, fingertips massaging and pinching at the red mark Taemin can feel on his skin.
"One... Siirrr... One... "
Then a second slap follows the first, sending another white red white red burst of pleasure and pain cascading through him, reddening his skin and making him leave damp streaks on Sir's dress pants.
"Two... Oh my God... Two... Sir..."
Again and again Sir spanks him, varying the site of each blow, judging the strength of each one to a hair. Taemin is incoherent within minutes, barely babbling out each number between each blow... sobbing and begging for mercy, promising to be absolutely perfect for Sir if only he'll let him finally climax.
Taemin sobs and shudders, already forgetting the last number that slipped between his quivering lips... distantly grateful when the vibrator finally stops. He barely even registers the change in position, straddling Sir's lap until the hard, hard, delicious, hard, full, gorgeous, hurt, sweet, pleasure of Sir's cock slides into him deep and completely.
"Now," Sir hisses, holding Taemin's burning ass against his lap and forcing him to to give Sir exactly what he wants.
Like a key that turns a secret lock, the one single lock that causes everything in Taemin to release in a blurring frighteningly powerful explosion. He screams but can't hear his own voice, can only cling and claw and push and pull and shudder and squeeze and clench until everything goes white with pleasure.
When Taemin can think even slightly, he's held warmly in Sir's arms, the two of them curled in a massive canopy bed. Sir is deliciously naked and his lips are brushing light caresses against Taemin's brow. Taemin wraps a shaky arm around Sir's neck and cuddles closer. There's a pure white roaring in his mind... peaceful and rare. He hums his delight against Sir's chest.
Sir strokes a hand down Taemin's back and hugs him close. He chuckles lightly. "I'm not finished with you, pretty boy."
Title Pretty Boy in Pink
Pairing Onew/Taemin
Genre Romance, Erotica, BDSM
Rating NC17
Word Count 5065
Warnings Jinki being insanely hot, does that count? Power exchange, light cross dressing, Dominance/Submission, Spanking, Toys... Voyeurism *SIR is Onew just fyi*
Summary On a business trip to a conference, Taemin is mistaken for a working boy of another kind.
Notes Okay so... I know I owe updates on fic. But updates on fic are not coming so I had to write something or my head was going to explode. In an effort to help kill my writer's block I've been reading a fair amount of Erotica. The idea for this fic came from a short story by Erika Masten. I then adapted, changed and wrote it for On/Tae. With thanks to min7girl for companionship, friendship and all the fic you write girlfriend <3
Taemin shifts a little in his seat, shaking out the folds of the newspaper he's pretending to read. His dinner is finished and there's a glass of wine on the table that he's sipping from occasionally. Conferences like this are a part of the job he could really do without, and he still has two days to go of the week long event. Oh well, at least he can spend some time people watching.
He lets his eyes slide to the side, around the edge of the newspaper and feels his face flush and his eyes widen as he spots another one of those "encounters" he's been noticing since he's been here. He bites his lip and fastens his gaze back on the business section, even though he's not reading a word. It took him an embarrassingly long time to catch on. It's an expensive and well known hotel after all, he should have realized.
A truly beautiful young man sitting alone in the restaurant is joined by someone who looks a lot like a rather nondescript older brother or even uncle. Heaven forbid he should look old enough to be the first man's father, Taemin thinks with a small shudder. There's an exchange of birthday card or wrapped gift or something of the sort. There's a small discreet exclamation of delight and in a little while the pair walk off together with the pretty one clinging adoringly to the other man's arm.
Of course. The pretty men are prostitutes and the pantomime of the gift exchange is a way of offering the price of admission as it were. He unconsciously bites his lip and shifts a little in his seat. Taemin couldn't help but fantasize a bit, imagining what it might be like to be bought for the night. Of course, he didn't imagine the client as any of the men he's seen making offers here in the hotel. No, his fantasy man was someone else. A business traveler like himself, dressed in a softly clinging lightweight purple knit sweater and slacks the last time Taemin had seen him.
Taemin tosses down the paper and stares at the tablecloth before him, taking a small sip of his wine as a sense of frustration washes through him. He'd spent the last two evenings stealing peeks of his fantasy man in fact, taking mental notes of the sleek soft waves of hair cut long over his brow and brushing past the edges of his collar in back. The stranger's eyes were dark, his nose strong and with a slight bump as if it had been broken at some point. He had a perfect smile, Taemin muses, with soft looking sensual lips. His shoulders were strong and there was a suggestion of toned muscle in his torso and arms, tapering down to slim hips and firm thighs and the speculation about what was hidden in his fitted trousers made Taemin sweat. There was something about the man that made Taemin feel powerfully attracted even though their gazes had never even crossed nor had they spoken. He sighs and lifts his face to glance around the restaurant.
Perhaps he should go back to his room and get some sleep.
"Good evening," a deep and soothing male voice greets him just a few minutes after he begins idly watching one of the hosts wandering around the restaurant. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was detained with business."
Taemin looks up, eyes widening as he finds himself staring into the deep brown eyes of his fantasy man. The same man he's been watching surreptitiously every time they've both been in the restaurant. He blinks a few times, so surprised that he barely even registers the way the man is speaking to him as if they know each other. He sits down in the chair beside Taemin's, folding the extremely expensive looking leather trench coat over the back of the seat as he does so.
"I hope you weren't waiting too long," the stranger says warmly, gazing into Taemin's eyes.
Up close, the man is even better looking than he was in all of Taemin's peeking. He's wearing a beautifully crisp looking white dress shirt, collar opened a button or two and simple statement cufflinks of black onyx and platinum fastening his French cuffs into place. The shirt is quite thin, giving the suggestion of the warm skin beneath it - tucked in neatly beneath the waist line of a pair of dark blue pinstriped trousers. Taemin takes a sip of his wine before he starts drooling, especially when he registers that his fantasy man also smells wonderful... the lightest trace of some masculine cologne reaching his nose after a moment. God
Taemin opens his mouth to explain that the stranger must be making some kind of mistake but before he can get the first words out a warm finger is laid lightly over his lips to shush him. He has the insane urge to lick the man's skin and find out how he tastes, to suck the finger into his mouth and see if those dark eyes get even darker and more intense. He bites the inside of his cheek and remains silent, gazing at the stranger questioningly.
From the pocket of his coat, the stranger pulls out a paperback novel and places it facedown on the table. Two fingers slide the book across the surface and then the man sits back with a faint smile curling his sensuous lips. "You know the book?" he asks.
Automatically Taemin reaches for the book and registers that it seems somehow padded. He's so mesmerised by the stranger's presence at his table, talking to him that it takes him a few seconds to refocus his attention on the book. He bites his lip, holding in a gasp of surprise when he flicks open the back of the book and finds it generously stuffed with high denomination bills. Long lashes flutter against his flushed cheeks as Taemin realizes that the stranger has made an even bigger mistake than he first thought.
He thinks I'm a prostitute he's ordered for tonight! A part of him considers getting angry about the assumption, but he's also intrigued, interested, aroused, even fascinated at the idea. As he hesitates, not sure what to do, he turns the book over in his hands and his stomach clenches. The book is a rather famous gay bdsm novel. It's also one of Taemin's favorite books. He feels goose bumps spread over his skin under the lightweight button down and khakis he's wearing.
"I... yes, I do," he manages quietly, peeking at the stranger through his lashes and warmed by the half-smile that blooms on the other man's lips.
"Excellent. Then you'll know what I expect." There's a brief pause and warm fingers close lightly around his wrist in a touch Taemin feels is subtly posessive. "What is your safe word?"
Taemin licks his lips and tries frantically to think of a word to use. He also tries to make himself tell this beautiful stranger that he's made a mistake. But the words won't leave his throat, somehow. "Never," he finally says, his voice soft even to his own ears.
"Never it is," the stranger murmurs.
There's a small pause and Taemin is almost painfully aware of the warm fingers on his wrist and the thumb moving lightly against the sensitive veins on the underside. "What... um... what would you like me to call you?" he asks, cursing himself for stuttering rather than sounding calm and professional.
The stranger's smile becomes wickedly alluring. "You will call me Sir." He passes over a gift wrapped box large enough for a shirt or some other garment along with a room key card and Taemin notes that the card is for one of the expensive upper floor suites of the hotel a bit dizzily. Is he really going to do this?
"I want you at my door in 30 minutes wearing only what's contained in this box. If you're late, I will punish you." He stands up, then leans over, brushing his warm palm against Taemin's flushed cheek. "Don't be late."
Taemin barely remembers to check his watch for the time as the other man pulls away and walks calmly out of the restaurant. Standing, Taemin tosses down some money for his drink and gathers up the book stuffed with cash, the keycard and the gift box and rushes out of the restaurant to head for the elevator.
Safely inside his hotel room, he places the gift box on the dresser and tears through the wrapping in record time. Taemin tosses off the top of the box and paws through the tissue paper to get to the items inside. What he finds almost gives him a heart attack and then all the blood drains into his cock and balls. He looks at his own face in the mirror and knows there's no way he can back out of this... not without regretting at least taking the chance it could be amazing.
The contents are, one pair of baby pink boxer shorts that look as if they are actually intended for a girl. One very beautiful Paul Smith striped silk tie is underneath that and finally a set of baby pink braided leather wrist bands, studded and adorned with chain fasteners and D rings. Telling himself to breathe, he darts into the bathroom for a quick scrub up before donning the items requested. It never even occurs to Taemin to question the color of the items...interestingly enough. Maybe his fantasy man has a fetish for pink.
It takes him only a few minutes for a quick wash and even quicker pat dry with a fresh towel before he wiggles himself into the soft silk shorts. They fit a little low on his hips, and it takes a bit of maneuvering to find enough room for his dick but somehow Taemin manages. He's shivering with excitement, fear, desire, hope, and anxiety by the time he gets the cuffs clipped into place on his slim wrists and the tie draped in what he hopes is an alluring manner around his throat. But wait, he can't go traipsing around the hotel dressed like this. What if someone from the conference sees him. He flicks through the very utilitarian and business focussed attire in his suitcase and the small wardrobe of the hotel room but all that he finds are his old and rather grungy worn flannel bath robe or the white fleece cape he bought for his best friend as a joke.
But wait... the cape has a hood and if it will fit Kibum, it should fit him also. And it has a certain elegant something about it. Now anxious over every second passing, Taemin rips through the plastic bag the cape is hanging in and drapes the soft white fabric around his bare shoulders - finding the loose sleeves and flipping up the hood with quick hands. There's a few frog closures to hold the fabric together so he should hopefully not be flashing anyone and he slips his feet into a pair of shower thongs for the quick trip upstairs.
Almost running, Taemin scampers to the elevator, waits impatiently for the doors to open and again on the 10th floor then rushes down the hall to the suite number picked out in gold on the key card he was given. He pauses to take a deep breath at the door, not wanting to seem anything but professional as he arrives at his "client's" door. Kicking out of the thongs, Taemin slips out of the cape and scoops up the thin shoes, bundling the fabric and shoes together over his arm then knocks a few times on the door of the suite. When there's no answer, Taemin uses the key card to let himself in.
"Hello, Sir?" he calls softly in the dim light that greets him as the door of the hotel room swings shut behind him with a firm snap.
Hotel room, Taemin sees as he glances quickly around himself in the quiet, is really not the right word for the stranger's accommodations. Suite fits it better since he seems to be standing in a kind of foyer and there's a door open on what he assumes is a tiny coat closet then the area opens out.
That's all he's given time to see as his fantasy man steps in front of him and gently but firmly yanks his burden of fleece cape and shower shoes out of Taemin's arms and disposes of it in the open closet with quick impatient motions. Then Taemin is being pushed into the wall by a firm, warm, strong male body and his whole being seems to seize for a moment with the overwhelming pleasure of that sensation.
"I knew you'd be such a good boy for me," Sir says against Taemin's throat. His hands take hold of Taemin's and pull them over his head, holding them pinned while a string of hot open mouthed kisses glide over Taemin's sensitive neck and jaw and end with a decadent drag of teeth over his earlobe. Taemin feels himself pulse in response, arching up against the promising bulge he can feel pushing hard against his hip.
"Oh God, Fuck, he breathes in a low and suffocated voice, tipping his head back against the wall to give Sir greater access.
"Language," Sir's voice scolds and the press of teeth inflict sensual punishment on the curve of Taemin's bare shoulder. Taemin whines instantly, at the same time arching his back into that hard delicious insistent pressure against his hip. He twists against the grip on his wrists, struggling a little in an effort to touch and caress Sir as well but the effort is useless. Though the grip is painlss, it's also impossible to escape.
The realization makes Taemin moan even more, and he has to fight not to swear again in the sheer overload of arousal and fear and desire and anxiety twisting into hot coils in his stomach.
"Rule 1," Sir begins, freeing one hand to slide down Taemin's rib cage and side and thigh then hitching Taemin's thigh up along his own hip. "No swearing, pretty boy." His breath skates over Taemin's shoulder and neck and his one hand is just as good as two at holding Taemin prisoner.
"Nnngh, Sir... please..." Taemin begins, hardly even knowing what he's begging for except that he needs more and more. The soft silk of the boxers he's wearing is already stretched almost painfully tight against his swelling erection.
"Shhhh," Sir soothes but his body is pressing in tight against Taemin's - crowding him right into the wall so that their two covered erections rub together. And God, Sir feels huge, demanding, and there's an edgy sense of danger throbbing between them as well. It makes Taemin want to climb the wall.
"Rule 2," Sir continues after a short burning interval of that luscious deep sweet voice all but growling in Taemin's ear as they grind together. "No orgasms without permission," he purrs, dropping his head so that Taemin feels the cool sweep of Sir's silky hair against his chest a moment before the hot flick of Sir's tongue assaults his hard nipples.
Taemin feels his toes curl, his body hitch up against the soft burn of Sir's mouth on his sensitive skin and a quivering pulse slides through his erection leaving a spreading circle of damp on the silk boxers he's wearing. He can't imagine how he possibly can keep from climaxing when he's already so fucking hard, aching and heavy with lust. One touch on his bare cock and he fears he'll explode. Still he has no protest in him, the words wouldn't form even if he wanted them to.
"Rule 3," Sir begins and pulls back out of the reach of Taemin's arching hips and squirming body while still holding him prisoner against the wall.
Taemin makes himself focus on Sir's handsome face, on the strong elegant lines of his throat and shoulders as revealed in the cling of his dress shirt. God, this man is so gorgeous it's almost impossible to stay conscious... and the effort to keep the bubbling swear words of utter worship behind his teeth makes Taemin quiver even more. Their eyes meet for a moment and Taemin feels one finger glide lightly over his cheekbone and down his jaw.
"If I tell you to do something that frightens you or is too painful.... remember to say 'Never'. I want pleasure from you, pretty boy and nothing more." Sir's dark eyes are so stern, so demanding that Taemin wonders how anyone ever denies him anything.
"Yes, Sir," he breathes. "I'll remember." Privately though, Taemin thinks he'll never use the safe word at all.
Sir steps back then, just a pace or two but Taemin feels a whimper of loss rise to his lips and break free just the same. Sir's body feels like heat and power and demand against his own and Taemin already craves the sensations of his touch almost unbearably. He stays against the wall as Sir left him, dropping his eyes after a brief incandescent eye contact passes between them.
Taemin slips his tongue out to moisten his desert dry lips, completely aware of the other man in a way he's never experienced before. His skin feels hot all over, damp with a light sheen of sweat despite the cool air from the air conditioning vents. He shifts his head, tossing the soft strands of his hair back from his face as if anything but Sir can possibly cool him down at this point.
"You have the most beautiful porcelain skin," Sir comments after the silence seems to stretch endlessly. "I can't help but imagine that you bruise up so prettily." As the deep tones roll over Taemin, Sir's wide palm lays against his sternum and presses firmly in a silent demand that Taemin stay where he is.
Taemin catches his breath, the thought of being bruised by this man, this sensuous and powerful stranger right out of his deepest fantasies is far from frightening. He widens his stance a bit to ease the tightness of his underpants as his whole body prickles with excitement at the idea of seeing red marks, or purple-blue rising on his own skin from Sir's handling.
The hand that rests against Taemin's skin slides down slowly, brushing with demanding pressure against Taemin's rib cage and over his belly. It's not a caress that touch, but it does feel amazing. Taemin finds himself biting his lip, hoping and praying for the friction to glide over his trapped cock... and yet terrified he might lose control of himself when the touch is granted.
"You're so beautifully sensitive," Sir praises, reaching out with both hands now to curl around Taemin's hip bones and massage the sides of his body. His thumbs are pressing, exploring the hard bulge of Taemin's erection at the same time, mercilessly stimulating. "Exactly what I was hoping for."
Taemin doesn't know how to reply to the purring words, to the indulgent and even affection lilt in Sir's voice. It's hard to concentrate on anything more than lifting his hips into those hands tormenting him in just the way he always has fantasized about.
"Oh, God, Sir... Ffff.... can't.... "
"You can," Sir orders sharply, and nips at Taemin's lower lip as if to remind him to keep the dirty words out of his mouth. "Nothing is more beautiful or more arousing than to see a sweet submissive like you struggling so hard against your own responses."
One hand slips down, skating over the silk boxers now damp and tight around Taemin's cock and balls. Sir's hand cups the swollen round shape of his balls and massages, pressing further back to apply knowing pressure to Taemin's perineum and along the crack of his ass.
Taemin is moaning and gasping non stop, held against the wall by Sir's dark glance while his hips roll and shift and twist against the waves of firm even slightly cruel stimulation washing over him. He could have come a half dozen times from the way Sir touches and toys with him through the thin silk. He can't imagine how he'll live through anything even more intimate.
"Does it... am I... are you..." Taemin stammers, his eyes wide and pupils blown after a long breathless period of wanting to scream for just the right touch and the permission to get off. Sir's face is so intent, so completely focused that Taemin suddenly wonders if this is even affecting him at all, despite the promising hard bulge against the perfectly tailored pinstripe trousers.
Deft hands leave off their sweet torture and sweep up to the tie still draped around Taemin's throat. He sags against the wall, hitching himself against the air shamelessly. He suddenly feels the soft silk tie drawn tight but not chokingly so around his neck, formed into a smooth slip knot. Sir pulls at the tie, silently urging Taemin away from the wall.
Taemin decides he doesn't dare try to walk at this point and slithers down to his hands and knees, noticing that the tie seems to be extra long... allowing just enough room so that he can crawl beside Sir without suffering lack of air.
Sir leads him in silence into the next room, set up as a small sitting area. They cross the soft carpeting and Sir sits down in a large leather arm chair, spreading his muscular legs to leave a space for Taemin to kneel.
"Does this?" he prompts, holding the tie in his hand though leaving a good bit of play in the length when Taemin stills.
Feeling those hard firm muscles brushing against his sides, seeing the light sheen of dampness on Sir's sculpted cheekbones and along his collarbones turns Taemin on even more... though it doesn't seem possible. He wants to unfasten those neatly done buttons, loosen the cufflinks and lick every square inch he can find beneath the shirt. Then he wants to do the same thing to the skin under Sir's trousers....slowly, passionately, endlessly, sucking Sir's tantalizingly large erection right down his throat or try his hardest to do so.
Taemin swallows, forcing himself to return his attention to Sir's face and those demanding eyes. "Does this... does touching me... making me whimper and moan... please you?" he asks softly, even shyly.
Sir laughs softly and takes Taemin's hand... letting Taemin's palm press butterfly lightly against the bulge in his pants. The feel of him, hot, heavy, almost painfully masculine twists Taemin's insides into knots and he gasps softly, knowing his face is contorting with the extremity of his passion for the other man.
"What do you think, pretty boy?" Sir asks.
"Yes.... oh God... yes," Taemin breathes shakily and looks at Sir with wide dark hungry eyes.
"Am I?" Sir repeats, reaching down and beginning to loose the fly of his trousers at last. Taemin finds himself raptly watching each button come open and has to think hard a moment before he remembers what he was thinking.
"I... Am I? What you expecting? What you wanted?" Licking his lips, Taemin stutters out the words, still painfully aware that this stranger thinks he's someone else altogether.
The fly opens at last and with a low groan, Sir lets himself spring free of the confinement of dark boxers and fine tailored pants. Taemin finds himself digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching out with both hands to caress Sir's erection. Taemin's seen a few naked men in his life, watched a few porn movies of various sorts besides. But this man... as far as Taemin is concerned, this man... at this moment... is a God.
"Much, much more than I expected," Sir answers after an aching pause.
Taemin almost purrs with pleasure at the praise, dragging his longing glance from Sir's lap back to his face.
"Thank you Sir," Taemin says softly.
"Are you?" Sir prompts, repeating the third of Taemin's stuttered questions of a moment ago.
"Oh... um... Oh, Sir... Are you going to let me suck you off, Sir? Are you going to fuck me until I scream? God, please Sir..." There's this odd sensation of letting go, of release that Taemin doesn't really understand and has no ability to analyze right now. All of a sudden words are flying out of his mouth and the word 'Sir' has never felt so good on his tongue before.
Sir's soft lips curve in a slow and sultry smile at the anxious questions. "Most likely," he answers, "several times over... until you are too sore to take me any longer."
Taemin whimpers, eyes falling closed at the implications of that answer. The idea of being completely, totally, taken over and over again until he literally can't any more sweeps over his feverish mind and makes his every nerve quiver with excitement.
"I won't be satisfied until your jaw is aching, your tight little hole is red and swollen and your hands are too weak to jerk me off any longer," Sir continues, his voice calm, inexorable, insistent.
"Please, please, please...." Taemin whispers. He knows better to lay hands on Sir without permission or invitation, but oh he wants to so very badly.
"However," Sir's voice changes and Taemin looks up into his eyes, captivated yet again by the mesmerising strength of Sir's glance. "Didn't I tell you to watch your language, pretty boy?"
Taemin's eyes go wide and then wider. "I didn't mean... I'm so sorry Sir... I ...I didn't think," He was so busy craving Sir's big fat dick that he hadn't even thought about using the forbidden f-word. He squirms on his knees, almost shuddering at the uncertainty of what will happen next.
"But, you want to please me - don't you?" Sir asks, reaching out and taking a handful of Taemin's soft hair, pulling it hard enough so that his scalp prickles with a sensation right on the very edge of pleasure and pain. "You want to obey me - don't you?"
Taemin mewls in the grasp, arching his back, almost boneless as he's drawn half across Sir's thighs. "Yes... yes... I do... so badly..." It's nothing less than the truth...his heart actually hurts at the thought of such a simple failure.
Suddenly his face is pressed against the arm of the chair and his body draped sideways over Sir's thighs. Taemin can feel the other man's erection against his bare stomach and that's a torment all of its own. His bare feet find the floor to balance him but he's painfully aware of both his excitement and his remorse, his desire and his fear.
"Then let me give you something to help you remember to keep your pretty mouth clean." Sir says, and there's a jerk and a ripping sound, the boxers coming loose from Taemin's hips.
Taemin moans, trying his best not to hump himself over Sir's hard cock, his own pressed against Sir's thigh. He digs his nails into the arm of the chair trying to steady himself but really the cool air on his ass cheeks feels almost like a blow in itself.
"Sir... please Sir," Taemin mutters, dragging his teeth against his lip.
Sir opens a drawer in the table beside the chair and then there's the familiar sound of a cap popping open, a squeezing sound and then something cool is pressed against his ass. Before Taemin even knows it, the small thin vibrator slips inside him, driven by Sir's strong hand. The thing is already turned on, vibrating ruthlessly against his prostate. Taemin wants to cry at the intense stimulation. There's no way he can resist it... his whole body has been too excited for too long and Sir's thigh is right there.
It's while he's thinking about this, bracing himself as best he can against the pleasure sweeping over him that the first blow slaps against his thigh... right at the place where his thigh meets his ass. It's a good hard blow, strobing his vision white with a burst of pain that mingles so perfectly with the vibrating pleasure that Taemin cries out loud.
"Count, pretty boy. And do not even think about coming." Sir purrs the words, fingertips massaging and pinching at the red mark Taemin can feel on his skin.
"One... Siirrr... One... "
Then a second slap follows the first, sending another white red white red burst of pleasure and pain cascading through him, reddening his skin and making him leave damp streaks on Sir's dress pants.
"Two... Oh my God... Two... Sir..."
Again and again Sir spanks him, varying the site of each blow, judging the strength of each one to a hair. Taemin is incoherent within minutes, barely babbling out each number between each blow... sobbing and begging for mercy, promising to be absolutely perfect for Sir if only he'll let him finally climax.
Taemin sobs and shudders, already forgetting the last number that slipped between his quivering lips... distantly grateful when the vibrator finally stops. He barely even registers the change in position, straddling Sir's lap until the hard, hard, delicious, hard, full, gorgeous, hurt, sweet, pleasure of Sir's cock slides into him deep and completely.
"Now," Sir hisses, holding Taemin's burning ass against his lap and forcing him to to give Sir exactly what he wants.
Like a key that turns a secret lock, the one single lock that causes everything in Taemin to release in a blurring frighteningly powerful explosion. He screams but can't hear his own voice, can only cling and claw and push and pull and shudder and squeeze and clench until everything goes white with pleasure.
When Taemin can think even slightly, he's held warmly in Sir's arms, the two of them curled in a massive canopy bed. Sir is deliciously naked and his lips are brushing light caresses against Taemin's brow. Taemin wraps a shaky arm around Sir's neck and cuddles closer. There's a pure white roaring in his mind... peaceful and rare. He hums his delight against Sir's chest.
Sir strokes a hand down Taemin's back and hugs him close. He chuckles lightly. "I'm not finished with you, pretty boy."