seventy-two, kris/kai

[carvone]

Seventy-Two
kris/kai, nc-17, 7,748w
the classic fuck-or-die scenario: exo get captured and locked up. they've got 72 hours to find a way out of this... by fucking each other. (obviously the pwp version of 48 Hours.)
warnings: dub/noncon



Seventy-Two.

The floor is hard and cold against his cheek when he wakes up. Someone is slapping- punching his back, and Kris lets out a low growl, flipping himself backwards to retaliate against whoever that is, except Lu Han has already jumped backwards after delivering a final kick to his legs.

"Ugh, finally, like a dead horse," Lu Han rolls his eyes, and Kris would have snapped back if he hadn't immediately caught on to the strange solemn frown on Lu Han's face that speaks of nervousness, and the fact that he was sleeping on the cold hard floor while he should have-- He should have what?

The last thing he remembers is falling asleep on the bus listening to Chanyeol's mumbling rap of their new song, thinking about the few minutes of shut-eye he should get in on their way back from the airport. His throat feels parched, tongue oddly numb and cottony. There's a low ache thudding at the back of his head, but not the kind he gets after a jacked mid-day nap after too many sleepless nights in the practice room.

"You okay?" Yixing's hand feels heavy on his shoulder. Kris nods, then starts to wonder whether he should have said no. A look around reveals eleven other boys looking just as lost and confused and not okay as he feels. Just them. Just the twelve of them.

He's sitting up, and this is definitely not the dorm or any hotel. The room is large but completely bare, the walls looking dirtied with time and unuse even in the low yellow light flooding the room. No windows. A... steel door? In the far corner. Four bare mattresses strewn across the floor. It's almost summer, but there's a light chill in the heavy air.

"Where are we?" He croaks out, but of course there's no answer.

"We woke up just... a while ago in this room." Baekhyun shakes his head, his face looking deadly pale even in the warm yellow lighting. "You were out for longer; we couldn't wake you up." He's pacing from one end of the room to the other and back again, eyes darting around.

He was drugged. He must have been. All of them were. He's a deep sleeper, but not like that.

"Has anyone tried to communicate with us?"

Baekhyun shakes his head again. "We looked around. There's nothing. We've seen no one either. Just us."

There's a loud banging noise, and Kris jerks his head up to see Chanyeol punching the steel door with his fist. It looks heavy. And obviously locked. "Ya, this isn't funny!" He shouts, and slaps his hand flat against the door again. Kyungsoo flinches.

"We're locked in." Trapped like rats inside a box.

"Fuck," Lu Han curses under his breath. "All our phones were taken, too."

Thoughts fly through his head, his brain racing and trying to gauge their situation. A hidden camera for a new show? No, isn't this a little too much - getting drugged (because there's no other way all of them would have slept through all of this) and then locked up in an empty room with no words or direction? Getting kidnapped? Some crazy fan? What kind of fan would have been able to kidnap a whole bus? What about their managers?

"What if this really is just for a show?" Minseok frowns, patting the mattress like he's trying to tear out a clue for their situation. Lu Han shakes his head furiously.

"No, the concert was supposed to be this afternoon. We would need to be at rehearsal by now, there's no time for playing around. We were already rushing it enough as it was. There's something that doesn't feel right about this."

Lu Han is right. There's something unsettling in the bottom of his stomach. Call it nonsense intuition, but there's an odd sense of ominous foreboding about this whole thing, especially as he looks at the steel trap door. When he looks closer, there's a slit with steel lid near the bottom, enough for a tray to be passed in. Like a holding cell. It isn't that cold in here, but a shiver runs through him.

A flash of something red catches his eyes. He grabs Lu Han's wrist, ignoring his surprised yelp, and turns it over. There's a number 2 written in what looks like red marker ink on the inside of his wrist. It looks a little like blood in the lighting. Kris raises his own left hand, pulling back the sleeve of his shirt. On his wrist, a number 3 written in crimson red. He drops his hand. When he looks up, Minseok is holding up his own wrist, showing Kris the number 1. 10 on Tao. 12 on Sehun.

"We're numbered."

"By age order, yes."

Kris is standing up now, walking around the room and taking in every minute detail of the room. There's a clock on the wall that reads twelve forty. Night or day, he isn't sure, since there is no source of natural light. There are four mattresses in the room but they are all just sitting on two and the floor around them, looking anxious and defeated after their own tour of the empty room. Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Lu Han are still standing up like him, walking back and forth with deep frowns, hands running over every crack on the wall. Kris suddenly pauses, looking at the group sprawled on the floor. There's something not right--

"Where's Jongin?" He snaps, walking towards them. Joonmyun blinks.

"He's in the other room."

"There's another room?" Kris follows Joonmyun's pointing hand, and he suddenly sees it. A door on the other side of the room, painted the same colour as the wall so he didn't notice at first.

"It's just another empty windowless room, same as this one, but smaller. We've all looked through it," Kyungsoo says. "There's a bathroom attached inside though."

He walks towards the door, pushing it open. Kyungsoo was right - just another empty cell, but much smaller. Jongin, just standing in the middle of the room, looks startled when he barges in.

"Anything?"

The kid shakes his head, worrying his lower lip with teeth and then his finger. "I've looked. Nothing." The flash of red on the kid's wrist reads 11.

Calling the bathroom a bathroom is an overstatement. There's a toilet and a sink, that's it. Kris sighs, making his round, eyes sweeping every corner. There's a tiny cabinet over the sink. He tries to open it, but it's locked. Kris frowns, but a more forceful jerk cracks it open, tearing the thin wood cabinet doors in the process. Inside, there's a large plastic water bottle, still full, and a few clear plastic cups. Kris grabs them. His throat is still parched with that cottony feeling.

"What is it?" Jongin appears next to him, crowding the tiny bathroom.

"I found water." Kris uncaps the bottle and sniffs. It smells like clean water. He takes a plastic cup and pours it full. "Want some?"

"...Yes please," Jongin nods, biting down on his chapped lip. Kris has seen him touch his throat earlier. He hands Jongin the cup he's just poured, then pours another one for himself. The kid gulps it down like he's been dying of thirst, but Kris has to admit the water feels like heaven to his throat, the liquid so cool and soothing on its way down.

"Hey, we should-" Jongdae appears at the doorway, but then stops short when he catches sight of them. "What's that?"

"We found a water bottle." Kris points to the broken cabinet then to the water bottle, raising his cup. However, contrary to his expectation, Jongdae frowns at them. He stalks over, grabbing the bottle out of Kris' hand and staring holes into it.

"Are you sure you should be ingesting anything left in this place?"

Jongin slowly put downs his cup, looking chastised. Kris raises both his hands. "Hey, calm down, it's just water. It tastes normal." Jongdae's frown deepens.

"I don't know, I just don't think... Nevermind, just drink water straight from the tap, hyung. Might not be clean but I'd trust it over a bottle left in a locked cabinet."

Jongdae shuffles both of them back to the main room. Strategic meeting, he said. Jongin drops down next to Sehun and Lu Han on the mattress, while Kris chooses to remain standing, leaning against the wall. He feels a little jittery.

"So what do we do?" Baekhyun gnaws on his knuckles, foot tapping the floor. He's huddled between Kyungsoo and Tao, looking discomfited.

"The question is what can we do," Kris shakes his head. "There's no way out; we've all checked every single crack on the wall. We don't know where we are, we don't know why we are here, no one has told us anything. There's little we can do but to wait for the one who locked us in to come out and say what they want out of this, if it's some terrible practical joke or..." He trails off, and none of them seems willing to fill in the gap.

The half-hearted squabbles over what they can do continue, ideas thrown out and rejected just as quickly. Kris slides down the wall half-way, rubbing his palms over his knees. They come away damp with sweat. The room seems to be getting a little hotter somehow, and the jittery feeling has only increased, sending fluttery shivers through his palms and the arch of his feet. Kris flexes his fingers slowly, trying not to look at the number inked on his skin. Numbered, like cattle in a farm.

"Are you okay?" He looks up, and there's Chanyeol's hand on his forehead. It feels cool against his skin. Chanyeol's lips purse as his frown deepens. He looks serious - an odd and worrying sight because Chanyeol's face is not shaped for seriousness. "You feel a little warm, hyung."

Now that Chanyeol's said it, Kris does feel a little warm. There's something that feels a little like hot, thick liquid trickling down his insides. He wants to attribute it to being drugged earlier, but the headache earlier has disappeared, and he still feels a little not okay, but in a different way. There's something jittery crawling underneath his skin, pumping his heartbeat just a little faster. It makes him feel unsettled.

He pushes Chanyeol's hand away, shaking his head, but he can't shake Chanyeol's worrying gaze off him now. He doesn't want to bother them with something that might turn out to be just nerves or a stomach bug, but there's a pressure building slow and hot in the bottom of his stomach that feels a little too familiar...

Kris shifts, and almost gasps outloud as something pulses through the rush of blood in his ears. The skin of his thighs feel hypersensitive as it brushes against the rough fabric of his jeans, but it feels good. A little too good. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach when he reluctantly puts a name to it. It's arousal. Hot, aching, thrumming arousal in his veins. He wants to deny it because it seems so out of place and impossible. He's no longer some teenager with inconvenient boners popping up at the slightest touch; there has been absolutely nothing to guarantee this hot rush of arousal in his blood, and yet--

Kris' head snaps up, catching Jongin's gaze on the other side. He has scooted far away from the others on the mattress, legs pulled up to his chin as he leans against the wall, but Jongin's face is flushed with heat, soft cheeks tainted dark pink and teeth clamping down hard on reddened lip. His eyes are wide and confused as he looks at Kris, but Kris could see the haze of arousal clouding his gaze and the way his nails are digging deep crescents into his arms.

Chanyeol's hand touches his arm, and Kris nearly jumps out of his skin, half-toppling over at the feeling of skin contact. Chanyeol's hands steady him, but he knows all of them are looking at him now.

"He's getting warmer," Chanyeol is not even speaking to him, turning to address everyone else. Tao and Yixing immediately crawl over to stare at him, reaching out to feel his forehead. He swats their hands away.

"What's wrong?"

I'm about to sprout a boner so hard I hope it knocks me unconscious, he wants to say, but settles for gritting out "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather."

Yixing clearly looks unimpressed, but before he could say anything, Jongdae has jumped forward. "Is it the water earlier?"

"What water?"

"Duizhang found a water bottle in the bathroom earlier. Jongin and he were drinking from it."

Everyone's head snaps back to look at Jongin. Kris feels a little relieved that the scrutiny on him has lessened, but feels bad for the way Jongin seems to shrink even smaller at the new attention. Lu Han, nearest to Jongin on the mattress, curses under his breath and crawls backward, reaching out to touch him.

"Don't!" Jongin's shout startles Lu Han, making him drop his hand instantly. "Don't- don't touch me."

If anyone weren't convinced there was something wrong with Jongin and him, they certainly are now.

"What's wrong? How are you feeling?" Kyungsoo crawls over from the next mattress, looking concerned but authoritative. He doesn't touch Jongin, just sitting down in front of him and staring holes into the boy. Jongin has gnawed his lower lip blood red.

"Just- just a little hot." He stutters out, wrapping his arms tighter around his legs.

"There must have been something in the water," Jongdae has returned with the bottle in hand. "Duizhang and Jongin seem to be the only ones affected."

"But what's wrong--"

There's a loud crackle overhead. A loud high-pitched shrieking noise startles them into wide-eyed silence. There's a speaker somewhere in the room, and it's coming to life.

"Welcome."

The voice coming through the speaker is twisted and mechanical, clearly masked by extreme audio tuning. It comes through hoarse and rumbly, something out of a clichéd horror flick. The looks on all their faces range from frightened to wary to down-right pissed off.

"Who are you?" Kris raises his voice, hoping they could finally get somewhere with this and get the hell out of here. "Is this some kind of joke, because it isn't funny!"

"That is irrelevant, and I can assure you this is no joke," the voice rumbles. "You can say this is a kind of... social experiment."

There's heat bubbling in his stomach. Kris clenches his fists harder.

"To achieve favourable outcome and reach the end of the experiment - upon which you will be released, unharmed, back to society - the first act you are required to complete is to select two Numbers who will be required to engage in sexual intercourse."

That takes a few seconds to sink in.

"What--?"

"That's fucking crazy, why would we ever--"

"Fortunately, the selection process has been completed by the candidates themselves. The drug ingested by Number 3 and Number 11 in the water is ultimately fatal."

The room drops into dead silence as everyone turns to stare in shock at him and Jongin. There's a buzzing noise in his ears and a hollow feeling in his stomach. When he glances down, the number 3 burns red in his eyes. His body flashes hot and cold. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jongin's arms go slack around his legs, the wrist with the number 11 drops to the mattress.

"Hyper-arousal will be the primary and prolonged symptom, however this will lead to severe dehydration, cardiovascular problems, and other fatal complications. Number 3 and 11 have 6 hours left, unless they carry out the required experiment, after which they will be supplied with the antidote."

The voice pauses, leaving a short burst of scratchy static, then picks up again.

"Experiment A: Number 3. Number 11."

The final announcement is detached and mechanical. Another brief burst of static, and then the speaker noise goes dead. It sounds a little like the sound of a final nail on the coffin.

No one says anything as Kris stands up and goes to the other room, shutting the door behind him.

He jerks himself off in the tiny bathroom, fingers pulling hard and tight around his hard cock. There's a fire building in the bottom of his stomach, and he wants to get it out out out, but nothing ever seems to be enough. He tries not to think of anything at all but the sensation of fingers around his cock and the rough fabric of his clothes rubbing against oversensitive skin, focusing on the physical waves of fierce pleasure rising up under his skin. He tries to think of the simplest fantasy of a hot wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, so soft and plush as he thrusts into it over and over until it's red and swollen and there's a small whimpering noise as his cock hits the back of the throat--

His back arches as he comes all over his hand, fingers still pulling up and down the shaft, smearing it with semen, trying to milk the last drop out of his over-sensitive cock. It's still flushed red, throbbing in his grasp. He pants open-mouthed into his arm, trying to pull air into his aching lungs. It doesn't feel enough. It isn't enough. His hips are still jerking forward, his thighs twitching with hot arousal.

He tries to bring himself off two more times before Lu Han comes in to ask if he's alright. By now it's already clear that there's nothing he can do to get this poison out of his veins.

"You okay?" Lu Han asks, because there's nothing else he could ask as Kris stumbles out of the bathroom looking disheveled and red in the face. Kris makes his way back into the main room, throwing himself down a wall opposite from where everyone else is sitting. Everything feels a little too hot now; even the wall only provides a few brief moments of coolness against his back. Chanyeol and Tao move towards him, but he waves them away.

"I'm horribly turned on, but it doesn't feel good. It feels pretty damn horrible, it's gut-wrenching."

Chanyeol's face does a few facial acrobatic moves before it settles on wide-eyed incredulity. It would have been funny if some sick asshole hadn't just told him he got 6 hours left to fuck his bandmate before he died of a heart attack for some social experiment.

When he looks over, Jongin has curled up into himself at the far end of the mattress. The other kids hover, but no one touches him. Kris feels pretty damn horrible, because after all this was his fault. It was him who offered Jongin the water. It was him who should have been more alert, should have known better than being so fucking stupid-

"I know what you're thinking, and I suggest you stop thinking it now." Lu Han's voice is low next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. "It isn't your fault. It's none of our fault. The one responsible is the sick asshole who's locked us up in here. Jongin wouldn't blame you." Lu Han is looking at Jongin now, eyes sad. Kris shakes his head but refuses to reply.

In a way, he's glad it turns out to be him who gets caught in this mess. Better him than any of the others, because even if the title of a leader is more in name than actual duties in this group who are all adults that can take care of themselves, he feels a responsibility for them as one of the oldest. They're all his little brothers somehow, his family, even Lu Han and Minseok, and it's better him being the first one up than anyone else. Except it's Jongin who gets caught along with him, and that makes his heart clench because Jongin- Jongin is number 11 out of 12. One number away from the youngest in their whole group, even though they often forget about it because of the way he carries himself.

It's more than obvious now in the way Jongin curls tight into himself, body shivering just the slightest. He wants to say sorry, but the words get choked in his throat. How could he be responsible for anyone now in the face of what he's about to do?

The next few hours fly by way too fast. The pressure keeps building, and the fire itches underneath his skin, clawing to burst out. His breathing has started to come in shorter, heavier gasps, and the hard arousal between his legs is an insistent presence no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. It's starting to hurt, the pressure too great for him to handle. Everyone tries to look away as well, but the elephant in the room is there in the heavy, nervous chatter that's stilted and tense. Jongin has been still and silent the whole time, but his shaking has gotten worse, and Kris can see all the efforts that go into Jongin holding himself back in the tense line of his shoulders.

No one is prepared when Jongin suddenly springs up from the mattress, hissing "I don't want this!" and stalking to the other room, slamming the door behind him. Sehun rises to his feet when they hear the click of a lock. That door could be locked from the inside.

"Jongin! Ya, Kim Jongin!" Sehun slams his hand repeatedly on the door, shaking the door knob to no avail, but there's no reply. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him they have 2 hours left. Jongin looked just as bad as he felt. Jongin looked angry.

"I can't do it," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "This is crazy. I can't." His stomach is churning at the thought. The worst thing is he can't even tell if it's anything but arousal.

"I don't want you to die," Tao's voice is small and shaky with choked up sobs in the sudden silence of the room. "I don't want Jongin to die either."

Tao said it in Chinese, but the way all the Korean boys look at him tell him they carry the same sentiment.

But what could anyone do if Jongin would rather die than fuck him?

Forty minutes left, and Kris feels like he's burning from the inside out, his organs all getting liquified in the scorching heat. He thought that maybe, just maybe they could hold this one out, but now he's facing the looming reality that they might not. He feels horrible. The fever is too high. It's getting a little harder to breathe.

He's on the floor, leaning against the locked door of the side-room now. The sounds from the other side are faint, but he knows Jongin has been desperately trying to jerk himself off, finally secure in his privacy. He could see it in his head, Jongin's thighs shaking as he pulls down his jeans and boxer briefs, fingers curling around hot hard cock as he's splayed on the floor, back arching against the hard wall when he comes in spurts again and again, thinking it would pass but it never does, hand tugging at his own hair and then trailing down to his mouth... biting down on his own fingers to keep down the noise because everyone is just on the other side of the wall... It's sick, but the fire in his blood makes the images in his head way too vivid and tempting.

Kris jerks up when a loud banging noise explodes from the other side of the room. Chanyeol. Chanyeol is banging on the steel door again, the banging sometimes rhythmic, sometimes angry and erratic. His knuckle is clearly losing the fight against that door, looking red and swollen already.

"Chanyeol." He calls out, but Chanyeol shows no sign of hearing him. No one dares go near him, even though Kyungsoo is already standing up, frowning. "Chanyeol, stop. You're just hurting your hand for no reason."

The final violent bang comes at the same time Kris feels a quiet click of the door behind him and barely balances himself in time when the wooden door is tugged open behind his back. The room falls away into silence as Kris turns to look up at Jongin. Jongin who looks just as disheveled and miserable as Kris expected he would be, his frame shaking as he leans against the edge of the door. Kris struggles to pull himself up. He could see that look in Jongin's eyes, the look that says he has come to a decision and he would not back down now. All steel and fire. He's seen it before, when Jongin gritted his teeth through a twisted ankle and back injury from Seoul to Beijing and back again for their debut showcases.

"Are you sure?" He asks, even as Jongin is stepping backwards to let him in.

"It makes no sense to die like this," Jongin's deep voice comes out so hoarse, it sends a sliver of hot arousal down his spine. "Lock the door behind you."

He does, and ignores the heavy gazes of everyone burning holes into his back.

Jongin's jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, barely clinging to his hips. His thin t-shirt is crumpled and bunched up around the waistband of his jeans, revealing flashes of smooth tanned skin. Kris knows how sensitive it feels for that smooth skin to rub against the fabric, because he feels the same. He could see the way Jongin's hands shake as they hesitantly tug down his jeans, just past his hips at first, and then down his thighs, to his knees, down to his ankles. Jongin is bare-feet now, stepping his way out his jeans, legs trembling if he looks very closely. He pulls off his t-shirt next, tousling his already messed up hair in the process. The bulge of Jongin's arousal is clearly visible in hard lines underneath his tight boxer briefs.

Kris doesn't fuck guys, but he's done his fair share of experimentation back in Canada in the locker room after hot and sweaty basketball practice sessions, and it isn't hard for him to appreciate how well sculpted and lithe Jongin's young body is, smooth skin like liquid gold over dancer muscles. It isn't hard for him to rake his eyes over Jongin's fluttering stomach and imagine how it would feel underneath his touch, especially with the fire burning in his blood. It isn't hard for him to focus on the way Jongin's teeth are still biting down on plump swollen lip, so red and painful-looking now.

Except Jongin looks afraid underneath all that bravado and the lust pumping through his veins, and he flinches away when Kris steps towards him. Kris stops just one step away from him, close enough to feel the heat of Jongin's body. The boy is not meeting his eyes.

"Jongin. Hey, look at me." His hand hovers over the slope of the boy's bare shoulder before hesitantly settling on the back of his head, fingers carding through soft dark hair. Jongin's eyes flicker up to meet his. "It's just me. Do you trust me?"

They might not be the closest friends in this group, Jongin with his own circle and Kris with his, but he's seen Jongin grow up nonetheless. They've shared meals and sleepless nights and the adrenaline pumping through their blood for their very first stage. Kris might not be Jongin's leader, but Jongin has always leaned into his touch whenever he wraps an arm around Jongin's shoulders and asks if he's okay. It's just him, not some stranger in this wretched place.

"I'm sorry," Kris is saying now. He wonders if Jongin wishes it could have been anyone else closer to him, Kyungsoo or Sehun or god, even Lu Han who would probably know how to better deal with this, but it's just him, and the truth is he doesn't regret it.

"No, it's... it's okay." The tension in Jongin's frame eases just that tiny little bit. "I trust you." Jongin's eyelids flicker closed as Kris finally pulls him close for a hug, Jongin's face buried in the nape of his neck.

The reality of what they are to do hits him with a fresh wave of arousal as Jongin's hot breath tickles the sensitive spot on his neck and soft warm lips touch his collarbone. Jongin is almost naked in his arms, body so tense but also willing, waiting for his touch. And fuck, Jongin feels good in his arms. Not soft and delicate like all the girls he's ever slept with, but so warm and solid. He runs his hand from the back of Jongin's neck to the slope between his shoulder blades, and then down his back, roaming all over heated smooth skin. Jongin shifts a little closer, too, leaning into his touch.

Kris' knees almost buckle when the boy's bare thigh slides between his own, rubbing against him in minute twitching motion as if he just can't help it. Jongin's cock is hot and hard against his thigh, and the boy lets out a choked gasp at the first contact. He lets Jongin desperately rub against him for a while, body swaying and falling into him and practically riding on his thigh, thigh muscles squeezing and clenching around his. Both of them are shaking, lost in the heat of each other's body even though they don't want it... They don't want it, but their bodies crave it.

Kris' legs give out, and they break away for a moment, dropping to the floor. Jongin's fingers are clinging to the sleeves of his shirt, and Kris has to tug them away to pull off the garment. He's kneeling between Jongin's splayed legs now, tugging down his pants finally and breathing out a gasp of relief as he pulls out his cock. Jongin's face is flushed a dark shade of pink, the boy's eyes skittering away as he worries his bottom lip. It sends a throb of arousal straight to Kris' cock, the way Jongin's lips look so tender and plump now, shiny with spit. He looks afraid, but his dark eyes are dilated and glazed over with arousal.

He runs his hands up Jongin's thighs, almost a gesture of comfort. Jongin's hands shoot out to grab his wrists when his fingers hook the waistband of Jongin's boxer briefs, but eventually relent when he very slowly pulls them off the boy's hips. Jongin's cock looks so hard it must hurt, flushed dark red and leaking precum with every throb. Jongin gasps and collapses backwards when he closes his fingers around the boy's hardness.

Both of them are naked now, and Kris tries to touch Jongin only as much as necessary, but it's impossible not to press himself along the length of Jongin's body on the floor, his own hard cock rubbing against Jongin's thigh as his hand strokes the boy's dick hard and fast, the way he likes it. It feels good, but it isn't enough, and he's getting desperate enough to tug at Jongin's hand, leading it to his swollen cock. He doesn't want to do it, but he wants...

Jongin blinks up at him when his fingers touch Kris' hard dick, the boy's eyes wide in shock, but Kris just molds Jongin's fingers in his grasp, loosely keeping the boy's fingers around his cock and stroking in rhythm with his hand around Jongin's, hoping the boy would do it. And Jongin does, after several moments of hesitation and clumsy grasping.

"Have you ever--?"

Jongin furiously shakes his head before Kris could even finish his question. He whispers "it's okay" into the sharp dip of Jongin's collarbone and speeds up his hand, setting the pace for both of them. Jongin's grip is clumsy and weak at first, but he gradually catches on, reciprocating with the fervor of the drugs pumping through their blood. It just feels too good to have anyone touch him, because it's been such an awfully long time with their schedule and restrictions.

"Do you- do you think this is enough?" Jongin rasps out in panting breaths, but he's already turning sideway to press more of his body against Kris', desperate for skin-on-skin contact and the heat of their bodies.

"I don't know," Kris hitches the boy's hips closer and both of them gasp as their cocks brush against each other. Kris closes his hand around both, stroking furiously over Jongin's more tentative fingers. Jongin's thighs are burning hot against his. When he looks down, his eyes catch Jongin's plush red lips parted in soft pants, and he shouldn't- he really shouldn't, but he's jerked off way too many times over the past few months thinking about it, desperate for a mouth to take him in and suck him off, and the blood rushing in his veins is telling his hazy brain that Jongin's mouth looks sinfully perfect right now.

Jongin whines when he pulls his hand away, and his eyes widen when Kris' fingers reach up to touch his lips. He swallows a groan because those lips feel just as plush and tender as they look under his touch. His eyes flicker down to his cock rubbing up against Jongin's, then back up again, and he could see the moment realization dawns in Jongin's eyes.

Kris curses outloud when Jongin slides down his body. He didn't dare think that Jongin would do it, but there he is, down between his legs and hovering over his throbbing cock.

"You don't have to--"

"I don't know how--"

Kris takes a deep, shaky breath and runs his fingers gently through Jongin's hair. He's offering, and Kris shouldn't, but he's so fucking hard and dizzy with heat he can't even think about why he shouldn't. "Slowly. Just the tip first. Pull your lips over your teeth."

He lets out a loud gasp when the head of his cock slips into Jongin's burning hot mouth. It feels so warm and wet, and the tentative flick of tongue in the boy's mouth sends hot shivers down his spine. He almost cries out when Jongin pulls back only to look up at him in hesitation.

"It's good," he murmurs, keeping his hand on Jongin's head but only slightly so the boy could break away if he wanted to. Jongin nods and takes him in again, red swollen lips stretched obscenely around his shaft. He tries his hardest to keep still, but the inexperienced tentative kitten licks of Jongin's tongue is driving him crazy, and it's impossible for his hips not to hitch up again and again, trying to bury just a little deeper inside that perfect hot mouth.

Jongin takes it with quiet whines in his throat, and Kris has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from blowing his load. If this morning someone told him this would happen he would have called them crazy, but here he is, with his naked bandmate sprawled all over his lap and sucking him off, his own arousal rubbing against Kris' legs. He wonders if it would be enough for their psycho kidnapper, him coming into Jongin's mouth like this. There must be cameras around the room, he thinks hazily as he glances up to the ceiling. Somewhere, someone is watching Jongin and him rubbing against each other like cats in heat.

He groans in almost-pain when Jongin pulls off a little too soon, but then Jongin is pushing something into his fingers. Kris' eyes widen when he looks at the tube of lube in his hand.

"Where did you even find this?"

"Behind the cabinet. Earlier when I was..." Jongin trails off, the fever high on his cheeks. His lips look even shinier and more swollen now with a soft sheen of spit and precum. Kris curses under his breath. Everything really had been prepared for them. At least now he wouldn't have to- He turns to stare at Jongin's shaking hand.

"We--" He wants to say we don't have to, but suddenly realizes this is not such an easy choice to make, because the possible alternative is both of their deaths. Kris swallows. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you," Jongin mumbles.

He is starting to think Jongin really shouldn't.

Kris' hand trails over the soft curve of Jongin's ass, slick fingers dipping in between the cleft of his butt cheeks. Jongin gasps when the tip of his finger presses into his hole, his thighs jerking around Kris. The slide of the first finger is slow and difficult, because Jongin is so fucking tight. But it's hot, and Kris' head is dizzy from the rush of blood in his veins and the anticipation. Jongin goes quiet while he starts thrusting in and out with just one finger, slicking him up and getting him used to the feeling of something inside of him. Kris has done it just once with one of his ex-girlfriends a long time ago, but he knows he has to take it slow.

Except it's impossible to take it slow when the lust and the heat are singing in his blood, reducing him to burning primal urges. He slips a second finger in, and the pace picks up this time, his fingers thrusting and fucking into Jongin's fluttering hole, smearing slick lube on the curve of Jongin's cheeks. But Jongin is making soft murmuring sounds, and when Kris looks up, he has his eyes squeezed shut, fingers pulling tight at the bracelets on his wrist, chest heaving as his mouth forms soundless words. It takes him a few seconds to fight through the haze and realize Jongin is praying.

The guilt doubles him over like a freight train, the realization of what they're doing and why they're doing this returning full-force. He has his fingers up in Jongin's ass, and the boy is praying for forgiveness.

"Jongin." He raises up to press a kiss to the boy's knee, voice coming out hoarser than he expected. "It's okay. I'm sorry. Everything will be okay."

He flips Jongin to his hands and knees, saying it would make things easier. Jongin's arms shake too badly even just as he's brushing his cock between the cleft of his cheeks, and they give away eventually, sending Jongin to balance on his elbows with his face pressed against the floor. One of his hands roams over the smooth golden skin of Jongin's back, while the other steadies the boy's hips, raising his ass up to a good angle.

He's shaking just as badly as Jongin at the first slide in, Jongin's muscles fluttering and clenching around his cock. It's too hot, too tight even with so much lube and all the stretching, and there's nothing he wants more than fucking Jongin open right there on the floor. His hips snap forward on their own accord at the last inch, pushing Jongin's soft ass cheeks flush against his crotch. He hears Jongin cry out somewhere faraway, but the blood rushing in his ears propels him to bury deeper and deeper in that tight heat, filling him up and rendering him boneless and pliant in his arms.

His heartbeat is pounding too loudly in his chest, the pressure building and building. He pulls out a little too fast and slams back in, sending Jongin's body skittering forward on the floor. He wants to go slow, but he can't. His hips keep snapping forward, setting a harsh pace as his hand digs into Jongin's hips, holding the boy in place. The loud slap of skin against skin is wet and obscene in the room, punctuating the loud panting and deep hoarse moans from both of them. Jongin is so tight, so good around him, and Kris stares in fascination at the way his cock slides in and out of the boy's reddening ass. So tight, because he's the first one to touch Jongin like this.

He runs his hand all over Jongin's trembling thighs, soothing him as he keeps fucking the boy, and he notes with a vague sense of relief that Jongin's hips are twitching back on their own now. Jongin is fucking himself back on Kris' cock, just tiny minute motions like he can't help it, desperate for the friction and to be filled up. It just incites further the fire in his blood, and he reaches forward to wrap his hand around Jongin's aching cock in appreciation. It sends a visible shudder through the boy's body. The upper half of his body is putty and useless against the floor now, his mouth panting moans into the arm propping his face up.

Then Kris shifts on his knees, changing the angle, and Jongin screams into his arm, coming hard all over Kris' fingers and the floor. The throbbing clench of Jongin's ass around his cock makes him dig his fingers hard into the boy's hips, but it doesn't stop him from fucking Jongin through his orgasm and the helpless jerks of his body. When Jongin's body finally calms down and goes boneless in his arms, he pulls out, flipping the boy over. The rough pull of his hand brings him to orgasm, his cock spurting come on Jongin's fluttering stomach, the liquid catching the edge of the boy's belly button. When he finally slumps down between Jongin's trembling thighs and looks up, Jongin's eyes are red, but he isn't crying. Kris collapses next to him on the floor, hand reaching up to pat Jongin's head reassuringly.

He doesn't even realize he's passed out until the loud banging on the door jerks him awake. Someone is shouting his and Jongin's names on the other side of the door, and Kris struggles up, the room suddenly spinning and his body feeling oddly heavy. There's a pressure in his chest, and it's so hard to breathe. It isn't difficult to notice that he's still hard between his legs, the arousal painful and raw now. He stumbles to the door, not even minding that he's still naked as he fumbles with the lock and tugs it open.

Lu Han's eyes are wide with shock when he sees them, but he recovers quickly enough to push two small bottles into Kris' fumbling hands. "The antidote... they've just given us," he chokes out. Kris could see the rest of the boys hovering behind him, staring.

Kris steadies himself against the edge of the door and tugs the cap of one bottle open, knocking back the murky white liquid. It's only faintly sweet, but he still chokes on it. Lu Han tries to look over his shoulders to catch sight of Jongin, and Kris could read the horror in his eyes when he finally sees Jongin's slumped form on the floor.

"He's okay. I'll give it to him." Kris grouses out, and shuts the door on Lu Han's face, stumbling backwards.

Jongin is conscious, but barely just, and Kris carefully props the boy's head up with his arm and leg. Jongin's skin is too hot, even against his own feverish body. He tugs the cap of the second bottle open and gently tips it to Jongin's swollen chapped lips, stroking his throat to make him swallow down the liquid. He throws the bottle away when it's empty, settling down again next to Jongin on the floor and drifting off, the heat still throbbing underneath his skin.

When Kris opens his eyes again, the room is empty. His clothes are folded haphazardly next to him on the floor, and he hastily pulls them on before stumbling out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest, only to meet the wide-eyed gaze of the rest of his bandmates.

His eyes dart over the group and seek out Jongin. He's sitting next to Kyungsoo and Yixing on one of the mattresses, looking perfectly alive and well though exhausted, and Kris breathes out a sigh of relief. He only realizes now that he's feeling back to normal again, his skin damp with sweat but cool, as if he's just broken out of a terrible fever. Except Jongin is resolutely not meeting his eyes.

Tao comes up to him, hesitating as if he wants to pull Kris into a hug, but eventually settling for squeezing his arm hard. Chanyeol does the same as he walks past, and it hurts to see them avoid his eyes, but it's better than nothing.

They decide to take turns taking naps after that, because there's nothing they could do but wait. There's a tray of bread on the floor that Lu Han says were thrown in through the slip of the steel door earlier, but no one is touching the food because they don't want to take chances. His stomach grumbles, but Kris agrees. He doesn't want any of them to go through the same thing he just did.

There's an uncomfortable heat coiling in the bottom of his stomach when the clock hits nine and he's barely into the first hour of his half-hearted nap.

Kris lies completely still on the mattress, hoping that it's just a residue of the drugs from earlier, but this feels fresh and all too familiar. He slowly sits up when the tingly heat spreads to the tip of his fingers, and his heart drops to the bottom of his stomach when he looks over and sees Jongin lying too still on the other side of the room, fingers clutching the beads of his bracelet.

Everyone jumps as the speaker crackles back to life.

"Our apologies. It seems the temporary antidote only suppresses the symptoms, and the effects will come back after three hours, fatal complications not withstanding. Hereby, the rules of our experiment are fully revealed.

"The rules are simple. The experiment will be carried on over a period of 72 hours, during which you shall all remain on the premise. Every 6 hours, two people will be randomly selected by a computer program. There might be repeats, if you are lucky. The chosen ones will be required to engage in sexual intercourse. Upon compliance, the temporary antidote will be supplied to Number 3 and Number 11 for continual survival. I hope you enjoy your time."

Kris turns to look at the rest of his bandmates, everyone with the same expression of wide-eyed horror.

A loud burst of static. A pause.

"Experiment B: Number--"

everyone's welcome to continue in this verse...