Keep me warm
Title: Keep me warm
Pairing; Key/Taemin
Rating: R
Warning: angst, smut, apathy
Summary: Kibum's sort of bad and Taemin's sort of sad.
“Hey, dollface. C’mere for a bit.”
He glanced over at the cot and heard a few welcoming pats.
“Like, now.”
Taemin dropped his PSP, the clatter it made on the floor being as much protest as he would ever bother giving, and made his way over to the body strewn across the bed. The older man was dressed in sweatpants and a thin cotton tank top that showed off the gentle swells of his arm muscles, but Taemin’s eyes were more draw to the long-barreled silver handgun in the void of his crossed legs. It shone - he’d been cleaning it. He cleaned his guns compulsively.
“Look at you,” the dark haired man muttered with a chuckle and fell back on his throne of pillows at the head of the bed, tracing Taemin with his eyes. “All lips and legs.”
Taemin thought he would be a lot less leg if only he’d been given any pants but rather than comment he let his head and shoulders sway four times side-to-side like a silly mute. He slid into the indicated spot next to the other boy when prompted, carefully smoothing out the creases his body made in the sheets. One big hand with long knobbed fingers enveloped his smaller one.
Kibum was his keeper. Taemin had been stored in his small apartment full of dark and dust for the better part of two months, unable to attend school or contact his old friends or so much as take a trip outside to a corner GS25, idling away his time as he waited for his father to pay off the debt that had put Taemin at the mercy of Kibum’s family in the first place.
Well, not waiting exactly. Waiting would imply expectation or hope and Taemin wasn’t going to be taken in by any of that. From the moment he heard his father owed money and had offered his son up to play collateral he hadn’t bothered to consider holding his breath. He’d known his father for a long time - too long, ask him any day and he’d tell you it’d been too long - long enough certainly to know that he wasn’t acting mere placeholder for his forty thousand. Taemin had as good as been sold.
But for the time being, while the debtors waited on the cash they didn’t know they’d never see, Kibum looked after Taemin. And it actually wasn’t so bad. A lot less horrible, anyway, than what he’d imagined his fate to be when he was first blindfolded, gagged and bodily tossed into the back of a van on the walk home from school. Kibum was only a handful of years older than Taemin but often enjoyed treating him like an infant - cooking for and feeding Taemin, washing his hair and picking out clothes for him to wear.
No, it really wasn’t bad at all. He was bored and it was cramped; the walls sometimes snuck in closer around him and more often than not he was lonely. He’d get terribly lonely when Kibum went away for days on end - lonely enough to make small talk with miscellaneous shadows he could find around the flat but when Kibum was there it was almost fine. It had only taken him a week or so to get used to being irregularly back up into walls or bent over the occasional table - it became normal; his desire to return home had vanished almost entirely.
At least Kibum seemed to like him.
From the start it’d been obvious he liked Taemin. He had volunteered for the job of watching him - looking over Taemin with a diamond edged smirk and matching glint in his eye when had offered his services, so Taemin wasn’t exactly flabbergast when Kibum put him to bed that first night by following him beneath the covers.
“We should dye your hair.” Nails grated his skull, just behind the ear like you would a cat, “You’d make a pretty redhead. What do you think?”
Taemin applied a small smile.
“We can get it done proper in a salon, and then I’ll buy you some new clothes.”
“You’ll let me go out?”
Kibum picked up his gun and cloth again, pointing with it between his legs until Taemin crawled to him obediently. “Well, not alone, of course. But if you’re a good boy…”
Taemin watched the gun bob before his face as it was wiped with repeated, practiced strokes - tended to almost lovingly. It gleamed; in its long barrel he could see his own envy darkened eyes.
“I have been, haven’t I?”
“Been good?”
“Haven’t I?”
“Very.” The gun came nearer still, until the mouth was suspended a mere centimeter from his bottom lip. Taemin was half-surprised not to feel its hot breath mix with his. “Keep it up.”
Keep it up.
The erection between them was no secret, throbbing for attention against his arm, but that wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted - somehow he knew precisely what Kibum was asking of him. It was the idea that he understood the older boy well after only a couple months that made him grin slightly and flutter his lashes before letting his lips fall apart and leaning forward.
He wasn’t bothered by the scratch of metal over his bottom lip or clacking against his teeth but the taste was unpleasant - like chewing the wrong side of the pencil and getting a mouthful of granite, only far more toxic. Kibum hummed and Taemin pulled back to stroke the underside with his tongue, licking the rim and wondering if the chemicals he felt singeing as they mixed with his saliva could make him sick.
And how would that be?
Of all the things to make him sick?
Tisssssss Kibum hissed in his ear, cupping his thighs to bring him up close as he moved in all around Taemin with a single motion, a heaving sigh, sharp elbow held up and out at the ready. An archer, and Taemin his bow. Strong fingers gripped the curling hair at the nape of his neck, which Taemin took for a sign to elongate the top of his spine, flare back his shoulders and reach with his chin.
Relax. Just in time. Breathe through your nose and concentrate on nothing else but keeping the peace between meanly made foreign object and the flimsy back of your throat. Breathe through your nose, stay calm, stay relaxed.
Kibum made a sound - a cracked up, frantic, pitchy groan pressed against Taemin’s jaw - as though his weapon were a physical extension of his body. As though he was his gun and as though the sensation of Taemin was too much for him to contain within himself. As though he might explode. Taemin’s eyes rolled down his nose to the muzzle disappeared into his face and wondered if each instance of passing thought might be his last, quickly becoming too terrified to think anything worthwhile at all.
Frozen thinking about thoughts, trying to get his keeper to climax without cumming into the back of his head with a bullet. It was hard, everything at that moment was hard, “you’re beautiful” - he struggled to do more to appreciate the compliment than blink, but it was very hard.
The gun was exited without warning and it burned the seam of his face on its way out.
Kibum grabbed him around the undersides of his thighs, pulling them apart and pressing the weapon in close to his skin of one so that it pinched something wicked. The pain prompted him to look down and he shuddered at the aim to the very core of his body, sandwiched between Kibum’s sweaty hand and his leg. His gaze returned to Kibum’s revealed wild eyes, glassy and distant over a panting mouth - Taemin’s chest pumped full with adrenalin, a mix of wonder at his own ability to take the man before him to pieces and an absolute fear that Kibum would any moment pull the trigger and do the very same to him.
His hands shook as he tried to move them soothingly as possible over Kibum’s chest, push reason into his brain and any possible tension out of his trigger finger - his own digits up and down between the bones of Kibum’s ribcage. Finally, finally to Taemin’s mind although it had probably taken less than a minute, he felt some of the taut muscles beneath him go slack and Kibum’s hold loosened enough for Taemin to move back on his haunches.
He didn’t have to be asked, directing his own fingers to the waistband of Kibum’s pants, using all five to pull and at an exceedingly slow pace, as if moving lead rather than cotton.
“You aren’t going to hurt me?”
Compared to the gun, swallowing Kibum down felt like a balm of warm milk and honey. Numbing the ache. The need for all his aches to be numbed and the memory of warmth suddenly made him think of when he was sick and still had a mother and of the hot drinks she’d bring him at night if he ever came down with a cold. At a time like this, nose against pubic bone, thinking of his mother. He took one hand for himself and brought it low to rub his belly like he could remember she had done when he was ill, the other remaining to hold the base of the cock steady as he dragged his tongue up the vein on the underside. He hummed, something she had hummed while she rubbed him and made him well.
Kibum must have thought he was pleasuring himself.
“You like this?”
He was so close.
Taemin shut his eyes. He tried to match the faded memory of a tune to the noises he could hear coming from himself. It was a stretch. He hummed louder, clamped down with his lips, pushed up with his tongue and closed off his esophagus like he was killing a sob and it was all that was needed for Kibum to grab his hair and finish off inside him.
He drank everything up and curled on his side when it was over. Face half-buried in the sheets, he watched Kibum collect himself, hard pants evening out to slow and languid breaths. He tossed his gun into a drawer and yanked his clothes back into place, looking almost self-conscious as he fixed his hair. Taemin folded his shirt over his belly and stroked it in circles with one hand, trying to hum again. He could really feel the hurt in his throat now.
Kibum saw what he was doing and slid Taemin’s limp body back into the cradle between his legs. He placed his head on Taemin shoulder and watched him message himself, tilting his ear toward Taemin’s mouth. He hummed almost a full time through, or what Taemin thought might be a full time through, before loosing his place and having to start again.
“What song is that?”
“I don’t know. Do you recognize it?”
“No. Where’s it from?”
“I don’t know. A while ago. It’s beautiful, right?”
“Yeah.” Kibum’s hand replaced his atop his stomach, rubbing in perfect circles, “I was going to say, it’s beautiful.”
And Taemin hummed to them both like they were sick.
Pairing; Key/Taemin
Rating: R
Warning: angst, smut, apathy
Summary: Kibum's sort of bad and Taemin's sort of sad.
“Hey, dollface. C’mere for a bit.”
He glanced over at the cot and heard a few welcoming pats.
“Like, now.”
Taemin dropped his PSP, the clatter it made on the floor being as much protest as he would ever bother giving, and made his way over to the body strewn across the bed. The older man was dressed in sweatpants and a thin cotton tank top that showed off the gentle swells of his arm muscles, but Taemin’s eyes were more draw to the long-barreled silver handgun in the void of his crossed legs. It shone - he’d been cleaning it. He cleaned his guns compulsively.
“Look at you,” the dark haired man muttered with a chuckle and fell back on his throne of pillows at the head of the bed, tracing Taemin with his eyes. “All lips and legs.”
Taemin thought he would be a lot less leg if only he’d been given any pants but rather than comment he let his head and shoulders sway four times side-to-side like a silly mute. He slid into the indicated spot next to the other boy when prompted, carefully smoothing out the creases his body made in the sheets. One big hand with long knobbed fingers enveloped his smaller one.
Kibum was his keeper. Taemin had been stored in his small apartment full of dark and dust for the better part of two months, unable to attend school or contact his old friends or so much as take a trip outside to a corner GS25, idling away his time as he waited for his father to pay off the debt that had put Taemin at the mercy of Kibum’s family in the first place.
Well, not waiting exactly. Waiting would imply expectation or hope and Taemin wasn’t going to be taken in by any of that. From the moment he heard his father owed money and had offered his son up to play collateral he hadn’t bothered to consider holding his breath. He’d known his father for a long time - too long, ask him any day and he’d tell you it’d been too long - long enough certainly to know that he wasn’t acting mere placeholder for his forty thousand. Taemin had as good as been sold.
But for the time being, while the debtors waited on the cash they didn’t know they’d never see, Kibum looked after Taemin. And it actually wasn’t so bad. A lot less horrible, anyway, than what he’d imagined his fate to be when he was first blindfolded, gagged and bodily tossed into the back of a van on the walk home from school. Kibum was only a handful of years older than Taemin but often enjoyed treating him like an infant - cooking for and feeding Taemin, washing his hair and picking out clothes for him to wear.
No, it really wasn’t bad at all. He was bored and it was cramped; the walls sometimes snuck in closer around him and more often than not he was lonely. He’d get terribly lonely when Kibum went away for days on end - lonely enough to make small talk with miscellaneous shadows he could find around the flat but when Kibum was there it was almost fine. It had only taken him a week or so to get used to being irregularly back up into walls or bent over the occasional table - it became normal; his desire to return home had vanished almost entirely.
At least Kibum seemed to like him.
From the start it’d been obvious he liked Taemin. He had volunteered for the job of watching him - looking over Taemin with a diamond edged smirk and matching glint in his eye when had offered his services, so Taemin wasn’t exactly flabbergast when Kibum put him to bed that first night by following him beneath the covers.
“We should dye your hair.” Nails grated his skull, just behind the ear like you would a cat, “You’d make a pretty redhead. What do you think?”
Taemin applied a small smile.
“We can get it done proper in a salon, and then I’ll buy you some new clothes.”
“You’ll let me go out?”
Kibum picked up his gun and cloth again, pointing with it between his legs until Taemin crawled to him obediently. “Well, not alone, of course. But if you’re a good boy…”
Taemin watched the gun bob before his face as it was wiped with repeated, practiced strokes - tended to almost lovingly. It gleamed; in its long barrel he could see his own envy darkened eyes.
“I have been, haven’t I?”
“Been good?”
“Haven’t I?”
“Very.” The gun came nearer still, until the mouth was suspended a mere centimeter from his bottom lip. Taemin was half-surprised not to feel its hot breath mix with his. “Keep it up.”
Keep it up.
The erection between them was no secret, throbbing for attention against his arm, but that wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted - somehow he knew precisely what Kibum was asking of him. It was the idea that he understood the older boy well after only a couple months that made him grin slightly and flutter his lashes before letting his lips fall apart and leaning forward.
He wasn’t bothered by the scratch of metal over his bottom lip or clacking against his teeth but the taste was unpleasant - like chewing the wrong side of the pencil and getting a mouthful of granite, only far more toxic. Kibum hummed and Taemin pulled back to stroke the underside with his tongue, licking the rim and wondering if the chemicals he felt singeing as they mixed with his saliva could make him sick.
And how would that be?
Of all the things to make him sick?
Tisssssss Kibum hissed in his ear, cupping his thighs to bring him up close as he moved in all around Taemin with a single motion, a heaving sigh, sharp elbow held up and out at the ready. An archer, and Taemin his bow. Strong fingers gripped the curling hair at the nape of his neck, which Taemin took for a sign to elongate the top of his spine, flare back his shoulders and reach with his chin.
Relax. Just in time. Breathe through your nose and concentrate on nothing else but keeping the peace between meanly made foreign object and the flimsy back of your throat. Breathe through your nose, stay calm, stay relaxed.
Kibum made a sound - a cracked up, frantic, pitchy groan pressed against Taemin’s jaw - as though his weapon were a physical extension of his body. As though he was his gun and as though the sensation of Taemin was too much for him to contain within himself. As though he might explode. Taemin’s eyes rolled down his nose to the muzzle disappeared into his face and wondered if each instance of passing thought might be his last, quickly becoming too terrified to think anything worthwhile at all.
Frozen thinking about thoughts, trying to get his keeper to climax without cumming into the back of his head with a bullet. It was hard, everything at that moment was hard, “you’re beautiful” - he struggled to do more to appreciate the compliment than blink, but it was very hard.
The gun was exited without warning and it burned the seam of his face on its way out.
Kibum grabbed him around the undersides of his thighs, pulling them apart and pressing the weapon in close to his skin of one so that it pinched something wicked. The pain prompted him to look down and he shuddered at the aim to the very core of his body, sandwiched between Kibum’s sweaty hand and his leg. His gaze returned to Kibum’s revealed wild eyes, glassy and distant over a panting mouth - Taemin’s chest pumped full with adrenalin, a mix of wonder at his own ability to take the man before him to pieces and an absolute fear that Kibum would any moment pull the trigger and do the very same to him.
His hands shook as he tried to move them soothingly as possible over Kibum’s chest, push reason into his brain and any possible tension out of his trigger finger - his own digits up and down between the bones of Kibum’s ribcage. Finally, finally to Taemin’s mind although it had probably taken less than a minute, he felt some of the taut muscles beneath him go slack and Kibum’s hold loosened enough for Taemin to move back on his haunches.
He didn’t have to be asked, directing his own fingers to the waistband of Kibum’s pants, using all five to pull and at an exceedingly slow pace, as if moving lead rather than cotton.
“You aren’t going to hurt me?”
Compared to the gun, swallowing Kibum down felt like a balm of warm milk and honey. Numbing the ache. The need for all his aches to be numbed and the memory of warmth suddenly made him think of when he was sick and still had a mother and of the hot drinks she’d bring him at night if he ever came down with a cold. At a time like this, nose against pubic bone, thinking of his mother. He took one hand for himself and brought it low to rub his belly like he could remember she had done when he was ill, the other remaining to hold the base of the cock steady as he dragged his tongue up the vein on the underside. He hummed, something she had hummed while she rubbed him and made him well.
Kibum must have thought he was pleasuring himself.
“You like this?”
He was so close.
Taemin shut his eyes. He tried to match the faded memory of a tune to the noises he could hear coming from himself. It was a stretch. He hummed louder, clamped down with his lips, pushed up with his tongue and closed off his esophagus like he was killing a sob and it was all that was needed for Kibum to grab his hair and finish off inside him.
He drank everything up and curled on his side when it was over. Face half-buried in the sheets, he watched Kibum collect himself, hard pants evening out to slow and languid breaths. He tossed his gun into a drawer and yanked his clothes back into place, looking almost self-conscious as he fixed his hair. Taemin folded his shirt over his belly and stroked it in circles with one hand, trying to hum again. He could really feel the hurt in his throat now.
Kibum saw what he was doing and slid Taemin’s limp body back into the cradle between his legs. He placed his head on Taemin shoulder and watched him message himself, tilting his ear toward Taemin’s mouth. He hummed almost a full time through, or what Taemin thought might be a full time through, before loosing his place and having to start again.
“What song is that?”
“I don’t know. Do you recognize it?”
“No. Where’s it from?”
“I don’t know. A while ago. It’s beautiful, right?”
“Yeah.” Kibum’s hand replaced his atop his stomach, rubbing in perfect circles, “I was going to say, it’s beautiful.”
And Taemin hummed to them both like they were sick.