[fic] All Wrong; Ryeo
Title: All Wrong
Fandom: SuJu
Paring: Ryeowook
Wordcount: 751
Rating: R
Notes: Read to find out the pairing; vampire, slightly noncon, and angst.
Ryeowook felt like a kitten trapped in a box, too small to make any sort of attempt to escape its current situation, only having the power to mewl and hope someone would come and rescue him.
A single pale, cool hand pressed his wrists down above his head, while another ran a smooth line down the front of him. It felt like eternity before it reached the hem of his shirt and carefully began to creep under fabric. The press of it splayed cold across his belly seemed to burn, as though it could brand itself into the flesh. He let a yelp escape his lips, eyes screwed shut as tight as he can, as thought out-of-sight-out-of-mind could really apply to his circumstances as those same hands divulged him of clothing.
“Shhh…” soft voice, filled with sugar and false hope murmured into his ear, naked bodies pressed flush, pushing him against the wall.
But it was all wrong.
There should be hot breath to accompany it, a bright pulse coming from the neck by his cheek, heat pouring off his body. There should be breath, there should be a pulse, there should be life, but there isn’t and his mind screams with the need to get away.
Tears drop from his shut eyes and he gasps when a tongue laps up a drop that pooled slightly at the corner of his mouth, and that tongue slips into his parted lips. The kiss is soft, familiar, but Ryeowook shrinks back to try and get away; it’s wrong and it’s corrupt and he can tastes something unpleasant, his mouth filling with the tang of iron and he wants to cry when he realizes its blood. He lets out a noise, muffled by a mouth and a tongue, and a surge of adrenalin lets him buck and writhe and tries to get away from the body pressed to his.
Lips break away, but Ryeowook can still feel them close, so close they’re almost brushing again. It makes his shiver and it’s not far enough.
“Why so upset, love? What’s the matter?”
Ryeowook feels like throwing up or yelling (you’re not you anymore, I can’t do this, oh god stop, please!), but can only manage a choked sob. His knees buckle and give out when he feels that tongue again, this time tracing the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the length of a clavicle.
He feels only the rumble of a sigh as lips began an accent, painstakingly slow, up his neck and tracing his carotid artery through skin and muscle. Teeth brushed ever so softly against his skin, but enough nips and his skin starts to feel raw, and his eyes snapped open. Moving away from his neck, eyes locking in an intense stare, but instead of the usually spark that hid in his captors eyes, there lay nothing but fathomless black, flat and dead.
Then he felt him, hard and sick and ready, pressing into him, and Ryeowook couldn’t help the natural reaction of his head bending back, eyes shut again, while his lips rounded into a silent gasp. Lips dove back to his exposed neck, working at the red skin with lips and licks. His legs acted on instinct, muscle memory forcing them up to wrap and lock around the hips pressed deeply into his own, letting a hand help lift him up. He let himself believe this was another time, let himself believe that there wasn’t anything wrong, let himself arch up into the motion and deepen the penetration. It’s slow and rough and his mind almost fools himself.
But it was all so wrong.
He comes with a loud cry and a name spills from his lips, but he can’t tell if it was from his release or the teeth that had sunk into his neck, nor could he tell whither the dizziness was from his climax or from the blood that pulsed out his neck.
“Why?” he manages to choke out, vision beginning to blur, body too weak to try and push away any more. But he watches as Yesung bites his tongue hard and presses his red stained lips once more to Ryeowook’s. He’s too tired to fight back, and all he can do is let the taste fill his mouth, throat, and burn in the pit of his stomach. Yesung pulls out of the kiss and licks at the bite mark, whispering because I love you against the pale skin of his throat.
-
Fandom: SuJu
Paring: Ryeowook
Wordcount: 751
Rating: R
Notes: Read to find out the pairing; vampire, slightly noncon, and angst.
Ryeowook felt like a kitten trapped in a box, too small to make any sort of attempt to escape its current situation, only having the power to mewl and hope someone would come and rescue him.
A single pale, cool hand pressed his wrists down above his head, while another ran a smooth line down the front of him. It felt like eternity before it reached the hem of his shirt and carefully began to creep under fabric. The press of it splayed cold across his belly seemed to burn, as though it could brand itself into the flesh. He let a yelp escape his lips, eyes screwed shut as tight as he can, as thought out-of-sight-out-of-mind could really apply to his circumstances as those same hands divulged him of clothing.
“Shhh…” soft voice, filled with sugar and false hope murmured into his ear, naked bodies pressed flush, pushing him against the wall.
But it was all wrong.
There should be hot breath to accompany it, a bright pulse coming from the neck by his cheek, heat pouring off his body. There should be breath, there should be a pulse, there should be life, but there isn’t and his mind screams with the need to get away.
Tears drop from his shut eyes and he gasps when a tongue laps up a drop that pooled slightly at the corner of his mouth, and that tongue slips into his parted lips. The kiss is soft, familiar, but Ryeowook shrinks back to try and get away; it’s wrong and it’s corrupt and he can tastes something unpleasant, his mouth filling with the tang of iron and he wants to cry when he realizes its blood. He lets out a noise, muffled by a mouth and a tongue, and a surge of adrenalin lets him buck and writhe and tries to get away from the body pressed to his.
Lips break away, but Ryeowook can still feel them close, so close they’re almost brushing again. It makes his shiver and it’s not far enough.
“Why so upset, love? What’s the matter?”
Ryeowook feels like throwing up or yelling (you’re not you anymore, I can’t do this, oh god stop, please!), but can only manage a choked sob. His knees buckle and give out when he feels that tongue again, this time tracing the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the length of a clavicle.
He feels only the rumble of a sigh as lips began an accent, painstakingly slow, up his neck and tracing his carotid artery through skin and muscle. Teeth brushed ever so softly against his skin, but enough nips and his skin starts to feel raw, and his eyes snapped open. Moving away from his neck, eyes locking in an intense stare, but instead of the usually spark that hid in his captors eyes, there lay nothing but fathomless black, flat and dead.
Then he felt him, hard and sick and ready, pressing into him, and Ryeowook couldn’t help the natural reaction of his head bending back, eyes shut again, while his lips rounded into a silent gasp. Lips dove back to his exposed neck, working at the red skin with lips and licks. His legs acted on instinct, muscle memory forcing them up to wrap and lock around the hips pressed deeply into his own, letting a hand help lift him up. He let himself believe this was another time, let himself believe that there wasn’t anything wrong, let himself arch up into the motion and deepen the penetration. It’s slow and rough and his mind almost fools himself.
But it was all so wrong.
He comes with a loud cry and a name spills from his lips, but he can’t tell if it was from his release or the teeth that had sunk into his neck, nor could he tell whither the dizziness was from his climax or from the blood that pulsed out his neck.
“Why?” he manages to choke out, vision beginning to blur, body too weak to try and push away any more. But he watches as Yesung bites his tongue hard and presses his red stained lips once more to Ryeowook’s. He’s too tired to fight back, and all he can do is let the taste fill his mouth, throat, and burn in the pit of his stomach. Yesung pulls out of the kiss and licks at the bite mark, whispering because I love you against the pale skin of his throat.
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