[Fic] Mechanic Errors
Title: Mechanic Errors [Part 1/2]
Pairing: YooMin.
Rating: R (...the next part will be NC-17 though.)
Genre: ...AU Pre-smut
Warnings: A little bondage. Some swearing. Nudity. Allusions to what happened in "Engine Grease".
Notes: Part one of a sequel to "Engine Grease and Bad Drivers".
Disclaimer: While I would like to cover them in grease and oil and many, many other fluids, I haven't, and probably won't.
Summary: You'd want revenge too, right? After what happened? Changmin does.
When Changmin finally woke, the first thing he realised was that he was cold. One cheek was pressed against the concrete floor; the heat had been sucked from his bare upper body, and the sweat all over him had long since cooled. The sun was not yet up, though the prone mechanic could see the first hints of light pushing the edges of blackness away through the window.
The second thing he realised was that everything hurt. His arms gave a violent throb as he moved, and refused to support his weight when he tried to push himself up from the floor. His shoulders ached, his back felt as if it had been stomped on, and... well. If anything, his ass hurt worse than the rest of him. As he laid there, shaking, not even noticing the rings of dried blood around his wrists from having been restrained, his mind replayed its most recent memories.
Recalling it was, if anything, worse. Body threatening collapse, he nonetheless forced himself to stand. It was bad now. It would be worse if Minho and HyunJoong found him here in a few hours. Limping slightly, knees sore from heavy contact with the floor at least once, he made his way to his apartment.
Somehow he managed the stairs, one hand clinging to the railing and the other to the opposite wall. The door was still wide open, the lights still on; the television had continued on its way through several other programs, and now in the early hours of the day, was trying to sell something. Changmin pushed the door closed, sliding the chain lock into place and leaning heavily against it for a minute or two before stumbling toward the bathroom.
Hot water scalded away the lingering feeling of lips and tongue, of fingers touching his skin. He scrubbed at his body angrily, half-pressed against the wall for not having the energy to stand, but not everything could be washed down the drain. The ghost of a breath in his ear. The bitter tang of blood in his mouth from biting down so hard on his lip. And always that internal ache that he knew wouldn't disappear quickly.
He didn't bother to dry himself off. Avoiding the mirror, not wanting to get caught up examining his swollen, bruised lips, he staggered from the steam-filled room and collapsed onto his mattress, weakly gathering blankets around himself. The sheets eagerly lapped up the water droplets his body carried, and the young man pressed his face into his pillow and lost his grip on the world once more. He only woke once that day, when Minho knocked on the door; voice cracking slightly, he called out that he was sick, not moving from where he was. Minho and HyunJoong could either stay and work or go home. He didn't care.
It wasn't until three days later that he managed to focus his thoughts enough to stop feeling victimised and start feeling angry. He woke early, his dream merely a replay of the situation, and felt hot anger begin its first course through him. Who the fuck did Park Yoochun think he was? Who was he to break into Changmin's home, restrain him, and take him as if he were merely just a thing, to take that which had never been offered to him?
Who the fuck was Park Yoochun? He was a man who was most definitely going to be taught a lesson.
When Minho and HyunJoong arrived for work that morning, Changmin was already in the garage, elbow deep in Yoochun's half-rebuilt engine. The old man's car, the one Yoochun had shoved Changmin against, was gone, but Yoochun's had been left to sit on the floor, untouched since Changmin had last worked on it. Boxed parts that had arrived as replacements were stacked on the work bench nearest it, and Changmin had already gone through four of them. Minho peered around the hood, eyes wide.
"Hyung!"
Changmin didn't look up, simply continued on with what he was doing.
"Hyung, are you sure you should be-" Minho touched his arm, and Changmin jerked away, almost dropping the part he was holding. The younger man's surprise showed on his face, and Changmin frowned darkly at him. "Are you sure you're better now? Maybe you should take another day off... it's Friday, you could make it a long weekend."
"Go... go elsewhere," Changmin finally responded, shooing his dongsaeng with blackened hands. "I'm fine. Go... do work."
Minho continued to stare at him for a minute, eyes lingering on the marks still marring Changmin's wrists, before finally turning on his heel and scurrying off to work on some other car that had been brought in for electrical issues. Changmin watched him, then set himself back to mindlessly replacing parts. While he appeared to be focused, his thoughts were buzzing around his head far too much. All his movements were automatic, engrained with having done things like this for several years.
All he could think about was what he was going to do to Park Yoochun.
It was easy enough to get him to the garage. Just before HyunJoong and Minho were meant to leave for the weekend, Changmin lowered the hood of Yoochun's car. He'd meticulously fixed the engine, as he would for anyone else. After all, nothing was worth losing face for his business. Rubbing at his dirtied palms with a rag, he approached the pair as they stood near the lockers. Minho was busy stripping his work shirt off, having been heavily drenched by a spilled oil pan shortly before clock out. HyunJoong was busy laughing at him.
They both went quiet when they realised he was there.
"HyunJoong. Call the asshole, tell him his car's done and he should come get it out of my garage before I charge him storage for the weekend." HyunJoong sunk his teeth into his lower lip and nodded hesitantly. Changmin didn't miss the way his eyes surveyed his body, as if he were looking for something he expected to be there, but wasn't. "What?"
The tow truck driver jumped slightly at the sharpness of the question. "Huh? N-nothing." He blinked rapidly, looking away. "I'll... I'll go call him now."
He scurried off, fingers scrambling at pockets for his phone; Changmin was left alone with Minho, who had paused halfway through redressing himself. Arms were shoved inside his shirt, one hand sticking out through the sleeve, a vacant expression lingering on his face. Changmin raised an eyebrow at him, obviously vaguely amused, before turning and leaving the wide-eyed dongsaeng to himself once more.
He had work to do.
The pair were long gone by the time Yoochun finally arrived. Changmin was nowhere to be found when the racer slipped through the open garage door and into the silent building; half the lights had been turned off already, leaving the large, open space dimly lit. Yoochun peered into the office, and upon finding it empty, groaned and moved toward his car, one hand wrapping around the door handle and giving it a tug.
It was locked.
"God. Fuck you, Changmin," he muttered, frowning. He was sure he hadn't taken that long to get here... sighing, he tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way toward the stairs that led to Changmin's apartment. He wasn't leaving without his car.
The mechanic was settled on a step halfway up, eyes closed and arms stretched across his knees. He was clean, Yoochun noted, and had already changed out of his work clothes and into sweatpants and a teeshirt. Water still clung to his short hair, droplets occasionally gathering enough that they dripped from the ends or ran down his neck. He almost looked like he'd fallen asleep sitting there, waiting for the racer to arrive, but when Yoochun set his foot on the bottom step, Changmin's brown eyes snapped open.
They simply stared at each other for a moment; Changmin's breath caught in his throat, eyes not straying from Yoochun's face. There was a hint of fear hidden behind the blankness, and Yoochun found himself grinning because of it. He took another step forward, a rather impish, dark expression taking over his features, and Changmin let slip the softest of uncomfortable sounds.
"Stay away from me."
The mechanic was full of apprehension, both in voice and in body. His muscles were visibly tensed, voice wavering as he watched the smirking face of the man who had taken him. The man who could probably take him again. Probably wanted to.
Yoochun moved up another step. "Did you let Minho touch my car again, mechanic? Is that why you're afraid right now?" Another step. Changmin's hands found the edge of the one he was settled on, and he pushed himself up to the next. "Do I have to punish you again?"
"I'm not afraid of you." Even as Changmin made to move himself up another, once more away, Yoochun reached out and grabbed his ankle. A sharp tug managed to deseat the mechanic, stretching his body out over several steps as his hands scrambled to grab hold of the nearest. Yoochun moved up again, grip moving from the mechanic's ankle to his hip, fingers grabbing a fistful of his clothing to keep him from escaping as Yoochun set one foot on either side of Changmin's legs.
He leaned forward, one hand on a step to balance himself as he placed his body directly over Changmin's. The younger man's chest rattled with a forced breath at the closeness; while there was still space, empty air between their two bodies, Yoochun had effectively trapped him against the stairs. His face was far too close for comfort.
"Do you need another lesson, huh? Mechanic?"
His gazed flickered, moving from Changmin's widened eyes to his lips, and it was then that the change happened. The fright disappeared; the mechanic's full, pink lips pressed against each other, drawing up at the corners. He was smiling. Smirking, even. Yoochun's eyes immediately went back to the younger man's, and where there had been fear and apprehension, there was now fiery anger and...
"I think you're the one that needs a lesson, asshole."
With a twist of his body, Changmin swung a fist, putting as much force behind it as he could at this angle. The racer wasn't ready for it, didn't even move to protect himself as it collided heavily against the side of his head. Stars exploded, concealing his vision and then giving way to darkness as he collapsed.
Triumph, he realised as his head flooded only momentarily with pain. Anger and triumph were what he'd witnessed in the mechanic's gaze.
The unconscious body settled itself on top of Changmin's sprawled form, face pressing against his neck, grip on his hip relaxing completely as the hand slid away. Changmin allowed their bodies to remain that way for only a moment before he maneuvered himself out from beneath the racer and, with a grin, dragged him carefully down the stairs and toward the supply closet.
It was his turn, this time.
--
By the time Yoochun had come around, Changmin had already finished what he'd needed to do. The racer had been stripped naked, his clothing tossed haphazardly in a pile near the door. He sat on the floor, back pressed against a heavy metal rack littered with car parts and other general garage supplies; thick, rough wire had been wound around both his wrists and threaded through the shelf that pressed into his shoulderblades. It held his arms both up and out, away from his body, and when he gave an experimental tug, he was met with a dull sting. The wire would not give, but would instead press into his soft skin if he struggled too much against it.
The floor was cold beneath his bare ass and legs. He bent his knees up almost automatically, legs closing from their splayed position to hide what little of his body that he could.
Changmin was leaning against the door, watchful eyes never leaving Yoochun as the racer's breaths started coming faster, slightly panicked. When the man finally spotted him, saw his long, lithe body in the near darkness, Changmin flicked on the light.
"I was going to throw water on you if you didn't wake up soon," the tall man mused, the vaguest hints of a smile visible around his mouth. "You kept mumbling, I was sure you had come round a few times before this."
"Was I mumbling about how much of a dick you are?" Yoochun spat, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a headache; whether from Changmin's fist or from the smell of gasoline and car fluids in the room, he didn't know. "Is this some kind of payback for my having sex with you, then?"
Changmin separated from the door, hands still in his pockets as he approached the bound racer. The smile had immediately faded from existence at his words, and any hints of amusement had disappeared. His expression had gone hard, his eyes angry and tinged with bitterness. One hand knitted itself into Yoochun's long hair, and he pulled the man's head back painfully until he was looking straight up at him. Yoochun gritted his teeth against the sharp jab, almost afraid the mechanic would pull his hair straight from his scalp with his heavy grip.
"Is that what you call it? You call what you did to me 'having sex'?" Yoochun's lips curled into a smirk, and he attempted a nod against Changmin's painful hold. The mechanic let slip a disgusted sound and leaned down, for the first time putting his face close to Yoochun's. "You shouldn't touch what isn't yours, Park Yoochun. And you need to learn the difference between what you did and what 'sex' is."
"Why don't you teach me, then?" Yoochun's voice was breathy, heavy with intent. Changmin was sure that whatever the racer believed was going to happen wasn't what he was planning to do. Wrinkling his nose, he lowered himself to one knee next to Yoochun, not caring that his shift in stance had him pulling Yoochun's hair a bit harder. The man winced and tilted his head against the hand. "No such thing as light touches when you're a mechanic, are there."
Changmin gave a sharp tug and leaned near, mouth against Yoochun's ear. "You don't deserve gentleness, asshole."
His teeth were sharper than Yoochun's had been, finding skin between their edges and leaving a trail of angry red marks from the man's ear to his shoulder. When Changmin had reached the soft stretch of skin between neck and shoulder, he paused, and leaned away, licking his lips. The hand holding Yoochun's head back slipped away long enough for the mechanic to tug his tee-shirt to the side; while it had been a few days, the violently purple cresent of a mouth-shaped bruise was still dark against his skin.
"You fought me," Yoochun pointed out, as if it were a good enough reason to leave such a mark. Changmin's fingers grasped at his hair again, and he jerked the man's head to one side before clamping his teeth down on the tender flesh. If Yoochun was going to brush off leaving marks, then Changmin was going to leave a few of his own.
The strangled gasp was almost gratifying, and Changmin could hear the yelp dying in Yoochun's throat before it could make itself fully heard. He pressed his teeth down harder before letting go, pulling his mouth away and giving the spot a playful lick. The imprints of his teeth were clear and deep, the skin quickly going dark red around them. Yoochun shivered, tugging his arm against the wire restraint.
"You should grow a conscience. Or I'll leave a lot worse than that on you."
Yoochun growled, annoyed. "Either hurt me or fuck me, mechanic. Whatever you do, just stop talking. Your voice is only sexy when you're gasping my name."
The open-palmed slap was unexpected, and Yoochun's head jerked slightly, face turning away as his cheek reddened almost immediately. Changmin's expression had gone from playful to flat and emotionless without notice, and Yoochun felt something akin to fear begin bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He scowled at the man, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder the best he could to make the stinging subside faster.
"You're such an-" The mechanic slapped him again, wide hand catching across cheek, jaw, and mouth, and Yoochun let out a tiny yelp of pain. "-asshole."
"Don't speak unless you're spoken to," Changmin said simply, sounding almost as if he were trying to teach proper etiquette to a small child. Yoochun's lips parted, about to spew a protest, but Changmin silenced him with a look. "Don't speak unless you want to be slapped, dog."
The racer was silent.
"I thought it'd turn out like this. Can't train you to act like the human being you're supposed to be, so I'll just have to train you like the dog you are." He leaned back, long fingers lacing together and elbows resting on his knees as he shifted, and considered the obviously fuming racer. "It's impolite to interrupt a lesson when you're a brainless idiot. So every time you speak without being told to, you'll be punished."
Dark eyes regarded him, trying to decide if the threat was a bluff or not. In the end, it seemed that Yoochun would take him at his word, as the man's mouth closed without a word, and he nodded. A smile tipped Changmin's lips again, and he shifted stance once more, one knee pressing against the cold stone floor as he leaned in.
"Good. Now... you seem to have a distinct issue with boundaries. While I'm sure that's probably not completely your fault..." Changmin's lips brushed against Yoochun's ear, and the racer shivered as hot breath tickled him. "It's an issue for me."
Agile fingers traced across tensed shoulders, and Yoochun shuddered, body warming as the touches circled over his skin, leaving a tingling sensation behind. His hands twitched, eager to do as they would have in a normal situation. He wasn't used to beng the one that was restrained. He wanted to touch, and feel, because Changmin's touches were straight-out teasing. He wanted to force the man to touch him the way he was supposed to.
His lips parted enough to let out a shaky sigh, and the hands disappeared.
"You really have no self-control." Changmin's fingers gripped Yoochun's chin, turning the racer's face toward him; the mechanic looked almost amused. "Half hard and I didn't even really do anything." He let go, standing slowly, and took a few steps toward the door. Yoochun bit back on the whine that was forming in his throat. "If you teach a dog too many things at once, it won't remember all its lessons. You’ve got all weekend to learn what I want you to know."
“You fucker.”
Changmin raised an eyebrow, laying on hand on the doorknob as he observed the racer give his body an annoyed jerk.
“I’ll discipline you for that tomorrow.”
I figured I should make it two parts, because there's still two days left in the weekend. If I made it all one post, it'd be well over 7000 words long.
Pairing: YooMin.
Rating: R (...the next part will be NC-17 though.)
Genre: ...AU Pre-smut
Warnings: A little bondage. Some swearing. Nudity. Allusions to what happened in "Engine Grease".
Notes: Part one of a sequel to "Engine Grease and Bad Drivers".
Disclaimer: While I would like to cover them in grease and oil and many, many other fluids, I haven't, and probably won't.
Summary: You'd want revenge too, right? After what happened? Changmin does.
When Changmin finally woke, the first thing he realised was that he was cold. One cheek was pressed against the concrete floor; the heat had been sucked from his bare upper body, and the sweat all over him had long since cooled. The sun was not yet up, though the prone mechanic could see the first hints of light pushing the edges of blackness away through the window.
The second thing he realised was that everything hurt. His arms gave a violent throb as he moved, and refused to support his weight when he tried to push himself up from the floor. His shoulders ached, his back felt as if it had been stomped on, and... well. If anything, his ass hurt worse than the rest of him. As he laid there, shaking, not even noticing the rings of dried blood around his wrists from having been restrained, his mind replayed its most recent memories.
Recalling it was, if anything, worse. Body threatening collapse, he nonetheless forced himself to stand. It was bad now. It would be worse if Minho and HyunJoong found him here in a few hours. Limping slightly, knees sore from heavy contact with the floor at least once, he made his way to his apartment.
Somehow he managed the stairs, one hand clinging to the railing and the other to the opposite wall. The door was still wide open, the lights still on; the television had continued on its way through several other programs, and now in the early hours of the day, was trying to sell something. Changmin pushed the door closed, sliding the chain lock into place and leaning heavily against it for a minute or two before stumbling toward the bathroom.
Hot water scalded away the lingering feeling of lips and tongue, of fingers touching his skin. He scrubbed at his body angrily, half-pressed against the wall for not having the energy to stand, but not everything could be washed down the drain. The ghost of a breath in his ear. The bitter tang of blood in his mouth from biting down so hard on his lip. And always that internal ache that he knew wouldn't disappear quickly.
He didn't bother to dry himself off. Avoiding the mirror, not wanting to get caught up examining his swollen, bruised lips, he staggered from the steam-filled room and collapsed onto his mattress, weakly gathering blankets around himself. The sheets eagerly lapped up the water droplets his body carried, and the young man pressed his face into his pillow and lost his grip on the world once more. He only woke once that day, when Minho knocked on the door; voice cracking slightly, he called out that he was sick, not moving from where he was. Minho and HyunJoong could either stay and work or go home. He didn't care.
It wasn't until three days later that he managed to focus his thoughts enough to stop feeling victimised and start feeling angry. He woke early, his dream merely a replay of the situation, and felt hot anger begin its first course through him. Who the fuck did Park Yoochun think he was? Who was he to break into Changmin's home, restrain him, and take him as if he were merely just a thing, to take that which had never been offered to him?
Who the fuck was Park Yoochun? He was a man who was most definitely going to be taught a lesson.
When Minho and HyunJoong arrived for work that morning, Changmin was already in the garage, elbow deep in Yoochun's half-rebuilt engine. The old man's car, the one Yoochun had shoved Changmin against, was gone, but Yoochun's had been left to sit on the floor, untouched since Changmin had last worked on it. Boxed parts that had arrived as replacements were stacked on the work bench nearest it, and Changmin had already gone through four of them. Minho peered around the hood, eyes wide.
"Hyung!"
Changmin didn't look up, simply continued on with what he was doing.
"Hyung, are you sure you should be-" Minho touched his arm, and Changmin jerked away, almost dropping the part he was holding. The younger man's surprise showed on his face, and Changmin frowned darkly at him. "Are you sure you're better now? Maybe you should take another day off... it's Friday, you could make it a long weekend."
"Go... go elsewhere," Changmin finally responded, shooing his dongsaeng with blackened hands. "I'm fine. Go... do work."
Minho continued to stare at him for a minute, eyes lingering on the marks still marring Changmin's wrists, before finally turning on his heel and scurrying off to work on some other car that had been brought in for electrical issues. Changmin watched him, then set himself back to mindlessly replacing parts. While he appeared to be focused, his thoughts were buzzing around his head far too much. All his movements were automatic, engrained with having done things like this for several years.
All he could think about was what he was going to do to Park Yoochun.
It was easy enough to get him to the garage. Just before HyunJoong and Minho were meant to leave for the weekend, Changmin lowered the hood of Yoochun's car. He'd meticulously fixed the engine, as he would for anyone else. After all, nothing was worth losing face for his business. Rubbing at his dirtied palms with a rag, he approached the pair as they stood near the lockers. Minho was busy stripping his work shirt off, having been heavily drenched by a spilled oil pan shortly before clock out. HyunJoong was busy laughing at him.
They both went quiet when they realised he was there.
"HyunJoong. Call the asshole, tell him his car's done and he should come get it out of my garage before I charge him storage for the weekend." HyunJoong sunk his teeth into his lower lip and nodded hesitantly. Changmin didn't miss the way his eyes surveyed his body, as if he were looking for something he expected to be there, but wasn't. "What?"
The tow truck driver jumped slightly at the sharpness of the question. "Huh? N-nothing." He blinked rapidly, looking away. "I'll... I'll go call him now."
He scurried off, fingers scrambling at pockets for his phone; Changmin was left alone with Minho, who had paused halfway through redressing himself. Arms were shoved inside his shirt, one hand sticking out through the sleeve, a vacant expression lingering on his face. Changmin raised an eyebrow at him, obviously vaguely amused, before turning and leaving the wide-eyed dongsaeng to himself once more.
He had work to do.
The pair were long gone by the time Yoochun finally arrived. Changmin was nowhere to be found when the racer slipped through the open garage door and into the silent building; half the lights had been turned off already, leaving the large, open space dimly lit. Yoochun peered into the office, and upon finding it empty, groaned and moved toward his car, one hand wrapping around the door handle and giving it a tug.
It was locked.
"God. Fuck you, Changmin," he muttered, frowning. He was sure he hadn't taken that long to get here... sighing, he tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way toward the stairs that led to Changmin's apartment. He wasn't leaving without his car.
The mechanic was settled on a step halfway up, eyes closed and arms stretched across his knees. He was clean, Yoochun noted, and had already changed out of his work clothes and into sweatpants and a teeshirt. Water still clung to his short hair, droplets occasionally gathering enough that they dripped from the ends or ran down his neck. He almost looked like he'd fallen asleep sitting there, waiting for the racer to arrive, but when Yoochun set his foot on the bottom step, Changmin's brown eyes snapped open.
They simply stared at each other for a moment; Changmin's breath caught in his throat, eyes not straying from Yoochun's face. There was a hint of fear hidden behind the blankness, and Yoochun found himself grinning because of it. He took another step forward, a rather impish, dark expression taking over his features, and Changmin let slip the softest of uncomfortable sounds.
"Stay away from me."
The mechanic was full of apprehension, both in voice and in body. His muscles were visibly tensed, voice wavering as he watched the smirking face of the man who had taken him. The man who could probably take him again. Probably wanted to.
Yoochun moved up another step. "Did you let Minho touch my car again, mechanic? Is that why you're afraid right now?" Another step. Changmin's hands found the edge of the one he was settled on, and he pushed himself up to the next. "Do I have to punish you again?"
"I'm not afraid of you." Even as Changmin made to move himself up another, once more away, Yoochun reached out and grabbed his ankle. A sharp tug managed to deseat the mechanic, stretching his body out over several steps as his hands scrambled to grab hold of the nearest. Yoochun moved up again, grip moving from the mechanic's ankle to his hip, fingers grabbing a fistful of his clothing to keep him from escaping as Yoochun set one foot on either side of Changmin's legs.
He leaned forward, one hand on a step to balance himself as he placed his body directly over Changmin's. The younger man's chest rattled with a forced breath at the closeness; while there was still space, empty air between their two bodies, Yoochun had effectively trapped him against the stairs. His face was far too close for comfort.
"Do you need another lesson, huh? Mechanic?"
His gazed flickered, moving from Changmin's widened eyes to his lips, and it was then that the change happened. The fright disappeared; the mechanic's full, pink lips pressed against each other, drawing up at the corners. He was smiling. Smirking, even. Yoochun's eyes immediately went back to the younger man's, and where there had been fear and apprehension, there was now fiery anger and...
"I think you're the one that needs a lesson, asshole."
With a twist of his body, Changmin swung a fist, putting as much force behind it as he could at this angle. The racer wasn't ready for it, didn't even move to protect himself as it collided heavily against the side of his head. Stars exploded, concealing his vision and then giving way to darkness as he collapsed.
Triumph, he realised as his head flooded only momentarily with pain. Anger and triumph were what he'd witnessed in the mechanic's gaze.
The unconscious body settled itself on top of Changmin's sprawled form, face pressing against his neck, grip on his hip relaxing completely as the hand slid away. Changmin allowed their bodies to remain that way for only a moment before he maneuvered himself out from beneath the racer and, with a grin, dragged him carefully down the stairs and toward the supply closet.
It was his turn, this time.
--
By the time Yoochun had come around, Changmin had already finished what he'd needed to do. The racer had been stripped naked, his clothing tossed haphazardly in a pile near the door. He sat on the floor, back pressed against a heavy metal rack littered with car parts and other general garage supplies; thick, rough wire had been wound around both his wrists and threaded through the shelf that pressed into his shoulderblades. It held his arms both up and out, away from his body, and when he gave an experimental tug, he was met with a dull sting. The wire would not give, but would instead press into his soft skin if he struggled too much against it.
The floor was cold beneath his bare ass and legs. He bent his knees up almost automatically, legs closing from their splayed position to hide what little of his body that he could.
Changmin was leaning against the door, watchful eyes never leaving Yoochun as the racer's breaths started coming faster, slightly panicked. When the man finally spotted him, saw his long, lithe body in the near darkness, Changmin flicked on the light.
"I was going to throw water on you if you didn't wake up soon," the tall man mused, the vaguest hints of a smile visible around his mouth. "You kept mumbling, I was sure you had come round a few times before this."
"Was I mumbling about how much of a dick you are?" Yoochun spat, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a headache; whether from Changmin's fist or from the smell of gasoline and car fluids in the room, he didn't know. "Is this some kind of payback for my having sex with you, then?"
Changmin separated from the door, hands still in his pockets as he approached the bound racer. The smile had immediately faded from existence at his words, and any hints of amusement had disappeared. His expression had gone hard, his eyes angry and tinged with bitterness. One hand knitted itself into Yoochun's long hair, and he pulled the man's head back painfully until he was looking straight up at him. Yoochun gritted his teeth against the sharp jab, almost afraid the mechanic would pull his hair straight from his scalp with his heavy grip.
"Is that what you call it? You call what you did to me 'having sex'?" Yoochun's lips curled into a smirk, and he attempted a nod against Changmin's painful hold. The mechanic let slip a disgusted sound and leaned down, for the first time putting his face close to Yoochun's. "You shouldn't touch what isn't yours, Park Yoochun. And you need to learn the difference between what you did and what 'sex' is."
"Why don't you teach me, then?" Yoochun's voice was breathy, heavy with intent. Changmin was sure that whatever the racer believed was going to happen wasn't what he was planning to do. Wrinkling his nose, he lowered himself to one knee next to Yoochun, not caring that his shift in stance had him pulling Yoochun's hair a bit harder. The man winced and tilted his head against the hand. "No such thing as light touches when you're a mechanic, are there."
Changmin gave a sharp tug and leaned near, mouth against Yoochun's ear. "You don't deserve gentleness, asshole."
His teeth were sharper than Yoochun's had been, finding skin between their edges and leaving a trail of angry red marks from the man's ear to his shoulder. When Changmin had reached the soft stretch of skin between neck and shoulder, he paused, and leaned away, licking his lips. The hand holding Yoochun's head back slipped away long enough for the mechanic to tug his tee-shirt to the side; while it had been a few days, the violently purple cresent of a mouth-shaped bruise was still dark against his skin.
"You fought me," Yoochun pointed out, as if it were a good enough reason to leave such a mark. Changmin's fingers grasped at his hair again, and he jerked the man's head to one side before clamping his teeth down on the tender flesh. If Yoochun was going to brush off leaving marks, then Changmin was going to leave a few of his own.
The strangled gasp was almost gratifying, and Changmin could hear the yelp dying in Yoochun's throat before it could make itself fully heard. He pressed his teeth down harder before letting go, pulling his mouth away and giving the spot a playful lick. The imprints of his teeth were clear and deep, the skin quickly going dark red around them. Yoochun shivered, tugging his arm against the wire restraint.
"You should grow a conscience. Or I'll leave a lot worse than that on you."
Yoochun growled, annoyed. "Either hurt me or fuck me, mechanic. Whatever you do, just stop talking. Your voice is only sexy when you're gasping my name."
The open-palmed slap was unexpected, and Yoochun's head jerked slightly, face turning away as his cheek reddened almost immediately. Changmin's expression had gone from playful to flat and emotionless without notice, and Yoochun felt something akin to fear begin bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He scowled at the man, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder the best he could to make the stinging subside faster.
"You're such an-" The mechanic slapped him again, wide hand catching across cheek, jaw, and mouth, and Yoochun let out a tiny yelp of pain. "-asshole."
"Don't speak unless you're spoken to," Changmin said simply, sounding almost as if he were trying to teach proper etiquette to a small child. Yoochun's lips parted, about to spew a protest, but Changmin silenced him with a look. "Don't speak unless you want to be slapped, dog."
The racer was silent.
"I thought it'd turn out like this. Can't train you to act like the human being you're supposed to be, so I'll just have to train you like the dog you are." He leaned back, long fingers lacing together and elbows resting on his knees as he shifted, and considered the obviously fuming racer. "It's impolite to interrupt a lesson when you're a brainless idiot. So every time you speak without being told to, you'll be punished."
Dark eyes regarded him, trying to decide if the threat was a bluff or not. In the end, it seemed that Yoochun would take him at his word, as the man's mouth closed without a word, and he nodded. A smile tipped Changmin's lips again, and he shifted stance once more, one knee pressing against the cold stone floor as he leaned in.
"Good. Now... you seem to have a distinct issue with boundaries. While I'm sure that's probably not completely your fault..." Changmin's lips brushed against Yoochun's ear, and the racer shivered as hot breath tickled him. "It's an issue for me."
Agile fingers traced across tensed shoulders, and Yoochun shuddered, body warming as the touches circled over his skin, leaving a tingling sensation behind. His hands twitched, eager to do as they would have in a normal situation. He wasn't used to beng the one that was restrained. He wanted to touch, and feel, because Changmin's touches were straight-out teasing. He wanted to force the man to touch him the way he was supposed to.
His lips parted enough to let out a shaky sigh, and the hands disappeared.
"You really have no self-control." Changmin's fingers gripped Yoochun's chin, turning the racer's face toward him; the mechanic looked almost amused. "Half hard and I didn't even really do anything." He let go, standing slowly, and took a few steps toward the door. Yoochun bit back on the whine that was forming in his throat. "If you teach a dog too many things at once, it won't remember all its lessons. You’ve got all weekend to learn what I want you to know."
“You fucker.”
Changmin raised an eyebrow, laying on hand on the doorknob as he observed the racer give his body an annoyed jerk.
“I’ll discipline you for that tomorrow.”
I figured I should make it two parts, because there's still two days left in the weekend. If I made it all one post, it'd be well over 7000 words long.