Fic: Out of Control
A beautifully cherubic face, unblemished and soft is framed by gently tousled blond hair. Pink, bow-shaped lips are kissable and innocent brown eyes are wide, trusting.
He sticks out like a sore thumb in a place like this.
Shorts short, because his frame is lean and long, his legs are still full and ripe, pale like the rest of him, but bruised around the knees. He’s been in trouble, used to it, even. Lifting a hand to swipe a lock of hair out of his eyes, his lips form a pout as his shirt rides up, baring underdeveloped muscles and a loose belt.
Perfect. Easy.
He sways through the crowd toward the gorgeous boy, for a boy is what he is, despite the carding this type of place requires, and gives him a grin that promises things.
The boy smiles back, a blush of all things spreading across his cheeks when he looks down.
With a sure hand, he raises the boy’s chin so their eyes meet.
“Why don’t we skip the dancing, and get out of here?”
He can feel rather than see the hum before he nods, and though surprised at how simple it is, pleasure and anticipation quickly drowns it out.
He can already see him screaming and crying in pain.
Once out in the night the boy shivers, his clothing retaining no heat. With a carefully placed arm around the boy’s shoulder, he guides him into a cab.
“Where to, beautiful?”
The boy gives an address of a nearby hotel, and sighs softly as he’s pulled into a rough kiss, callused hands too impatient as they caress his legs.
He lets out a soft mewl when it moves between his thighs, pressing and fondling the hardness growing in his shorts. Gasping, its only the driver’s second cough that pulls them apart.
With a sheepish little smile, the boy tries to compose himself while he pays the driver. Then out of the car and up to the room, he’s too excited to wait, pulling that cupid mouth to his and thrusting his tongue in just to hear him moan again, legs turning weak.
The room is low lit as they stumble in, but the boy tugs him over to the bed, hands everywhere as they divest each other of clothing. The bed creaks as they fall into the middle, the boy eager and noisy as he yanks down his pants, easily taking him into his mouth.
Hands sift into that baby soft hair and hold him still as he fucks that mouth raw, groaning and shuddering at the choking noises and then the splash of tears that wet the sheets.
He’s so beautiful when he cries.
Eventually he lets the boy go, watching in sadistic pleasure as he sits up with a sniffle and wipes his lips. He wants to see them busted and bleeding, but not yet.
They’ve got all night.
The boy crawls up his front and kisses from his jaw inward, letting callused hands divest him of his shorts and shoving them down his thighs. Mewling, whimpering, the boy shakes in his hold as he rubs him harshly through his underwear, fueling his fantasies of breaking this angelic boy.
He’ll be so beautiful when he’s bruised and broken.
Shoving his hand under the plain blue undies, he feels himself jerk at the breathless moan it evokes, thinking nothing of the boy’s hand taking his. “Oppa,” The boy gasps, head falling to his shoulder as he tries to buck his hip into the rough hand. “Oppa, are you going to hurt me?”
With a growl he twists his hand harshly, just to hear him cry out. “I’m going to destroy you, baby.”
The answering moan is not like the others - lower, whorish, his brow furrows in confusion as something latches around his wrist.
Glancing behind him, his head whips around to look at the boy as his other hand is secured to the other leather cuff hanging over the headboard.
“What the fuck?!”
The boy smirks, and his face isn’t angelic at all as he leans in to brush that petal pink mouth against his. “What’s the matter, Oppa? Don’t you like it?”
He shakes his head, struggling against his restraints and swearing offensively at the boy. The boy pouts, and reaches over to the bedside drawer. The first thing he pulls out is a strip of cloth, quickly and efficiently tying it around the man’s head. The next is a tube of lube and a knife, glittering dully in the low light of the room.
The door opens with a quiet click, and the boy’s face lights up as he turns toward it. A man a bit younger than he approaches the bed with a quiet sigh. “You didn’t wait for me, Junhong-ah?”
“Sorry, hyung.” He chirps, accepting the deep kiss given when the man leans over the bed. Moaning low in his throat, the boy licks his lips when the other breaks the kiss, turning with a smile to the one still tied to the bed. “That’s Yonggukhyung. He likes to watch.”
Junhong says it with a cute little wink, and he watches as Yongguk settles in the chair beside the bed, eyes surveying the scene.
Junhong pays him little mind, settling between his captive’s legs and hooking his legs over his thighs to give him the perfect view. Slicking his fingers, he brings two down to his entrance and slides them in with a whine. Despite his trepidation, he watches hungrily as the boy fucks himself open, his moans a mix between innocent and offensive. Junhong whimpers as he slides a third in, and he growls behind his gag.
“Y-Yongguk..”
It’s a kittenish mewl, and he watches as the boy turns his head to look at the man in the chair, face flushed.
Yongguk meets his eyes for a moment. “Go on then, Junhongie.”
Biting his lip, Junhong removes his fingers and crawls across the sheets to grab a condom packet from the drawer. Ripping it open with his teeth, he rolls it down over his captive’s cock, giving him a smile. “You’re gonna love this, Oppa.”
Holding it still, he sits down on it, tilting his flushed face back as the man stretches him even more than his fingers.
“Mmmm, Oppa~”
He doesn’t care anymore, planting his feet on the bed to buck up into that tight heat. Its tight and the pain on the boy’s face is only making it hotter.
He certainly doesn’t expect the suckerpunch that snaps his face to the side.
Or the next one that snaps it to the other side.
Junhong’s smile is a full blown smirk now, and his eyes widen as the boy picks up the knife.
Still rolling his hips against the other man’s, Junhong leans in to brush his lips against the fabric gag. “Faster, Oppa..” He purrs, digging the tip into the skin beneath his collarbone, watching in fascination as blood pools and slides down the man’s sweaty chest.
His eyes are wide with fear and he bucks his hips faster. Junhong loves it, taking the knife away only to plunge it into the area just below his ribs.
Junhong moans as the man screams, bouncing harder in his lap. “Fuck Oppa, again..” Ripping out the knife, he slashes him across the chest, once, twice, three times.
He cries out, and Junhong clenches around him. He’s close.
Plunging the knife a last time into his thigh, Junhong lets out an animalistic noise as he wraps his fingers around his captive’s neck, squeezing and squeezing until the colour drains from his face and he stops thrashing.
Junhong whines as a hand wraps around his arousal, preventing him from coming.
“Not yet,” Yongguk murmurs against his ear, lifting him up and onto his knees.
“Hands on the bed, Junhong.”
Junhong immediately falls forward onto his hands, and his moan is raw as Yongguk sinks into him, thin hands falling into place on his hips.
Right from the get go he’s rough, fucking Junhong the way he likes to be fucked. A hand yanking him up by the hair makes him keen, and Yongguk’s voice is just as pleasure torn as he growls against the younger boy’s ear. “Look, Junhongie. Look what you did.”
Junhong opens his eyes, and feels himself start to unravel as he looks at the lifeless body, the blood still pooling silently from the man’s wounds.
“You murdered him, Junhongie. Can you still feel him inside you? Struggling beneath your fingers?”
Junhong’s so close he’s a whimpering mess, forcing himself back as hard as he can against Yongguk. His hands clench in the sheets, almost able to feel the muscles beneath his fingers..
A wet hand slaps over his face and Junhong screams, his orgasm over taking him as the blood drips down his face and into his mouth before Yongguk closes his palm over it.
Nirvana crashes through him and rips the very air from his lungs. The blackness is inevitable.
***
When he wakes up, the shower is running and the shower tiles are cool against his back. Yongguk smiles at him as he runs his soapy hands over Junhong’s body, and Junhong watches the pink swirl down the drain with a pout.
“Is it time yet, Yonggukhyung?”
Yongguk hums, and begins rubbing shampoo through the boy’s hair.
“No, Junhongie. It’s not your turn to die yet.”
“Next time?”
Yongguk chuckles, and nudges him nearer the shower to rinse. “Maybe.”
Junhong pouts harder. “But you know how you’re going to do it, right? Like, like that,” He gestures to the other room, “But better. Much better.”
Yongguk nods and pulls him in for a gentle kiss.
“Yes Junhongie.” He traces his face with a smile. “Much better.”