In His Place 3/4 (yeah, not my fault)
Title: In His Place 3/4
Pairing: Yoochun/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Man, if they were my butlers ... but alas, they are not.
Summary: Changmin is protected. The heir to the throne is always a target. He must be protected. Confined. Imprisoned. Until he is needed. He cannot handle it. He cannot survive like that. He is ready to do something drastic. And then Yoochun-nim shows him a way to relax, a way to unwind. A way to rebel.
A/N: I know, I know. Another fic. But this one is not my fault. Well, mostly. I've been watching "Black Butler" for about a week, and well, yeah ... I only stole the phrase "Young Master" from that because just ... unf. Anyway. That said, this fic is not underage, but it does have an age gap. Changmin is 18, and Yoochun is 35.
A/N2: This is 4 parts now because Yoochun wanted to fuck Changmin and Changmin needed some kisses ... and a reason to smile. ;)
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Part 3:
I updated the warnings for this fic:
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Tight.
Relax.
Tight
Relax.
It mattered on what was inside his ass, how many times in one minute he went through the process. When it was something that vibrated, it was more. When it was just a buttplug or a dildo, it was less.
It mattered on if he had been allowed to come within the last few hours or not. Needing to come made the process faster.
It mattered on if he was sitting in a chair (a higher number) or laying on his bed (a lower number) or in position, waiting for Yoochun-master to use him (the highest number).
Changmin learned that it didn’t matter how often his body went through the process. But that orgasms mattered. At least one a day, two if he really needed it, three if Yoochun-master was feeling extra generous.
Changmin learned that leaving his clothes on the floor meant he was tossed over Yoochun-master’s lap and his ass giving a thorough spanking. Leaving books strewn about his study or attempting to eat without Yoochun-master to feed him prompted the same punishment.
Not that he minded. He was an adult. He knew how to take care of himself. He knew how to clean up after himself. But that was not the point of the small things that let him rebel and get in trouble.
And skin on skin hurt in the most delicious way.
Leather on skin made his head light, his body float, his skin sizzle.
And wood on skin, the rough hewn scrape of a paddle, well, Changmin had yet to explain what exactly that made him do besides come without permission.
Changmin analyzed his brain almost on a daily basis. It was different now than it had been two months ago. But different how? Just enough that he no longer threw chairs at the window. He no longer thought to throw chairs at the window. But he still felt caged, looking down at the people so far below. Specks moving this way and that.
His breath still quickened when he thought of that. His life moved slow. His life moved through four rooms. Four because he was honest with himself.
And then life stopped, for brief moments, just like his orgasms stopped for long moments. Yoochun-master took it all away. For a while. Changmin still had to exercise. He still had to study. He still had to learn law and history and science and physics. Because ultimately his life had a goal and a purpose. But it was different because Yoochun-master let him study with a plug in his ass, let him exercise different parts of his body with other parts of his body restrained, let him recite obscure laws and decrees and have a paddle slap against his ass if he got it wrong, which made it more tempting to answer wrong, but if he answered all wrong, then his orgasm was denied for another few hours, and as he learned early on, the orgasms mattered.
“That is twice you have sighed in the last twenty minutes, Changmin-ah,” Yoochun-master said, running his hands through Changmin’s hair.
Changmin shut his eyes and tilted his head into the touch that trailed down his neck, fingers soft against the hickys and faded bite marks. He shifted on the floor, the small plug in his ass, shifted with him, and he let out a little sigh. The book on ancient history, when their country was split in two, lay across one knee. He had read the same paragraph four times. So unlike him.
“I cannot concentrate today, Yoochun-master.”
“Why not?”
Changmin frowned and thought about that. The day had been no different than the day before except that Yoochun-master had allowed him to come in the shower while Yoochun-master pissed over his skin.
“I ...”
Changmin was also learning how to talk about what he was feeling, usually because Yoochun-master ordered him to.
“I ... I am ... content. Happy, maybe?”
“And this bothers you?”
Changmin bit his lip and nodded.
Yoochun-master tugged on his ear. “How come?”
Glancing up, Changmin felt his cheeks flush, his neck heat, and he said, “What if it all goes away?”
“You are afraid,” Yoochun-master said. He tugged on the back of Changmin’s neck, pulling in a command to turn, kneel, and Changmin did, shuffling between his legs. He kept his hands on Yoochun-master’s thighs because he did not have permission to touch anywhere else. He felt his eyes tighten, tears threatening.
He was too old to cry when he was not being denied an orgasm.
“What are you afraid of?”
Changmin met his eyes, pondering how to say it, how to explain, if he should say it, what if he shouldn’t. “I do not want you to go away.”
Yoochun-master smiled. “I will not.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. Trust me, Changmin-ah. I am not going anywhere.”
“What about--” He glanced at the window. He never talked to Yoochun-master about outside. About after. About his future. He understood his future. He understood what was expected of him as the heir to the throne. The Shim family had ruled the United Republic of Korea for centuries. Other countries’ media called it “Shim Korea” or “Shim’s Family Playland.” It was definitely not a republic. His family ruled with laws and decrees that kept control of the people. He understood how to rule and Yoochun-master even coached him on how to keep the farce of a parliament in line to the Shim control.
But his father was mortal. His father would die. Changmin would rule in his place. Changmin would go outside, be outside, walk around outside. Be exposed.
He did not want to bear it if Yoochun-master left him.
Yoochun-master cupped his cheeks. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
Yoochun-master smiled and covered the space between their lips. Kisses were few and far between, usually only given in the moment before Yoochun-master released. Or after, soft kisses of comfort. Kisses like this one were non-existent. Yoochun-master picked up his hands, put them on his own cheeks, and Changmin shivered, able to touch, encouraged to touch, and he slid his hands back, into Yoochun-master’s long hair. His fingers found the ribbon and he tugged on it, loosening its hold, and Yoochun-master hummed into his mouth, sliding his hands down Changmin’s shoulder. He slid his tongue forward and Changmin met it with a noise and a jerk, wanting more of his mouth, more of his taste, more of that outdoor-spicy-forbidden smell of his skin and clothes.
When Yoochun-master pulled away, Changmin was crying. He did not know why he was crying. He did not know why his chest was so tight. He did not know why he wanted to just stare at Yoochun-master, touch his hair, kiss his lips.
Yoochun-master wiped at Changmin’s cheeks. “Let’s break the schedule today, Changmin-ah,” he said. “Go to the bedroom. Be naked and in position for me in the middle of the bed.”
Changmin bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yes, master.”
“Good boy.”
Changmin shifted around and crawled out of the study and into his bedroom. He no longer wanted to think, so instead of folding his clothes properly at the end of the bed like Yoochun-master taught him to do, Changmin flung them on the floor. He climbed on the bed and laid flat for only a moment, letting his body tight relax tight relax around the dildo inside him, and then he pushed up, to his knees, head turned and flat on the bed, gripping his ankles.
And he waited. He normally did not mind waiting. He normally controlled his breathing, relaxed his body, and counted the tight relax tight relax.
But after this, after telling Yoochun-master his fear of him not being there, he panicked and breathed deep. HIs head went light. His muscles shook.
He dug his fingernails into his ankles and did not feel the pain.
Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten.
Changmin’s gasps echoed in the room. He felt the panic close his throat. Felt his lungs fill with non-existent water. Felt his head go light. Felt his muscles attempt to relax and give up and pass out.
But he did not break position. Because what if Yoochun-master walked through the door and he was not as ordered? He did not want to disappoint Yoochun-master. Not ever.
But what if Yoochun-master did not come through the door? What if someone else came through the door?
Changmin whined, a loud, low sound that hurt his throat and squeezed tears from his eyes. His body swayed side to side.
“Shh, Changmin-ah, shh. You’re okay.” Hands ran up the back of his thighs. Yoochun-master cooed at him, talking nonsense until Changmin relaxed.
Changmin gasped in relief, deep sobs that had his back swaying, his knees collapsing.
“I am sorry that took me so long,” Yoochun-master said, running first his hands and then his mouth up the back of Changmin’s thighs and to his ass.
Changmin attempted to steady his breathing, calm now that familiar hands were on him and Yoochun-master would make it hard for him to think about anything else.
“Such a naughty boy, leaving your clothes all over the place. You will be punished for it, don’t think I’ll forget, but not right now. For now, I need to you to roll to your back and lift your hands to the headboard.”
Changmin’s headboard was made of wooden, carved posts that let the white wall behind peek through. When he was younger, he used to pretend it was a jail cell. Now, Yoochun-master used the posts to bind him.
Changmin turned over and lifted his arms. A second later, Yoochun-master straddled his chest, still clothed, the soft fabric of his pants caressing his side. He shivered, skin prickling with goosebumps.
Cold metal clicked around his wrists and Changmin looked up in surprise. Handcuffs. Yoochun-master had never used handcuffs before.
“I snuck them in,” he explained and that was it.
Changmin wanted to ask. It made sense that someone told Yoochun-master what to do outside of the room. He had rules to follow. But Changmin rarely thought about it. Because outside did not affect his inside.
What a lie that was turning out to be. Everything outside affected how he lived his life inside these four, small, illusionary rooms.
“If you do not have red marks on your wrists from those by the time I am done with you, then you are not trying hard enough to show me your pleasure. Understand?”
“Yes, master.”
Yoochun-master smiled as he slid back down his body. “Good boy, but that isn’t really enough, now is it?”
A long dildo pressed against his mouth and Changmin moaned, opening for it. HIs cock pulsed precome onto his stomach as the dildo settled and then Yoochun-muster buckled it around his head.
“Say your safeword,” Yoochun-master demanded, “so I know I can understand it through this gag.”
Changmin used his eyes to pout.
Yoochun-master smiled. “It is just a precaution, Changmin-ah. I plan on playing with you until either you tell me to stop or if I get bored of you and you should know by now that I rarely get bored of you. Say it. Safety is always first, you know that.”
Changmin shut his eyes and tried to talk about the gag. It came out as “efeneetste.” He gagged on the dildo.
Yoochun-master told him to say it again and then scream it. And he nodded. “Good boy. That dildo is going to stay in your throat, so I need to know what your safeword sounds like coming through it. Now.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together before taking a thick cock ring from his pocket. It had a loop on it and Changmin moaned at the idea of all the uses for that loop.
“No coming,” Yoochun-master said, “not even by accident. I plan on doing more than enough to make you come, so you get a cockring today. Thank me.”
Changmin said thank you even though it was muffled.
Yoochun-master stroked his cock a couple of times before latching the cockring at the base. It snugged tightly and Changmin felt his cock throb around it and under it, through it. Yoochun-master gripped his knees and lifted them up. His hand slid to his ankles, and then both of his legs were up, straight, and then pressed against the headboard, next to his hands.
Changmin groaned from the stretch, eyes shut, tears leaking from them.
The soft sash from Changmin’s terrywood robe tied one foot to the frame and then looped through both cuffs at his wrists and tied the other foot to the frame.
“Lovely,” Yoochun-master said and trailed a finger down Changmin’s leg, pausing to tickle his knee.
Changmin shivered, head falling back with a whimper. He was very thankful when Yoochun-master’s tongue followed the same trail. It gave Changmin something to focus on. Something to anticipate. Each leg was licked and bit, and hickys were added to the inside of his knees and down the back of his thighs.
“I will be right back,” Yoochun-master whispered.
Changmin’s eyes shot open and his cry of protest stayed muffled behind the dildo. He gagged again, body lurching from the suddenness.
Yoochun-master smiled and rubbed his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “Trust me. I will be right back. I am only going to the closet to dig through the toy drawer.”
Changmin shut his eyes and nodded.
Yoochun-master pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Such a good boy.”
And as Yoochun-master left the room, he started whistling. Changmin focused on the sound, followed it away from the room, into the closet and it was no longer loud, but still there, showing him that Yoochun-master did not leave. And then it grew closer again, and it was in the room, and Changmin did not have time to panic at being alone because he hadn’t been alone.
He hadn’t been alone since Yoochun-master first walked through the door.
“God, you’re gorgeous, Changmin-ah. It’s a wonder I managed to keep my hands off you for so long.”
Changmin whimpered, body sagging in the bindings, head falling back between his arms. He’d never had his legs and arms stretched so much before. There was a little give, so his knees were slightly bent, just enough that he did not feel like his hips were going to come out of the sockets. But he hoped that Yoochun-master released him soon. He had only used his safe word once. Too many smacks to the face. Too many punches on his side. Too many breaths denied. He had almost passed out.
“So pretty like this.” Yoochun-master ran his hands up Changmin’s legs again. “I have been wanting to touch you since you were thirteen years old, even when you were throwing things and yelling, or being a complete and utter brat. But you were also letting me take care of you and hold you when you were having panic attacks.” Fingers ran up and down his stomach, to his cock and then down to his balls. “There were so many times when I thought about just fucking you, raping you, forcing you open with my cock, leaving you bleeding and crying, but I knew that if I just waited a little, had a little more patience, you’d come to me.” Yoochun-master squeezed his balls, and Changmin moaned behind the gag. “That day when you asked me to touch you, well, I thought I was dreaming.”
Something trailed along the sensitive skin of Changmin’s balls, and then his erection was tugged up, and Yoochun-master chuckled.
“This is a shoelace that I am now wrapping around your balls.”
Changmin’s head shot up and he opened his eyes to look. Vision blurry, he saw the black shoelace go up and around the red skin of his sac. Around each one, between them, looped through the ring on his cock, and then moved down, and looped through the small ring of the plug still inside him, tying everything together. When his cock jerked, the string yanked on his balls, which threatened to pull out the plug,
tight tight tight tight tight
And that pulled at the string and then the ring around his cock.
Changmin moaned.
“Do you like it?”
Changmin nodded.
Yoochun-master flicked his balls and Changmin screamed from the suddenness and the sharp pain that sliced up his skin.
“Now, pretty sure just a few moments ago, you left your clothes all over the floor and threw your book to the side without caring how it landed.” Yoochun-master yanked his own belt off, and Changmin moaned, skin flushing in anticipation. “Count them. With your fingers.” He folded the belt, gripping the buckle, and brought the leather down across Changmin’s hip.
Changmin whimpered. When the first quick slap echoed around the room, Changmin unclenched a fist and held up one finger. Difficult with his hands in cuffs, metal cuffs that bit into the skin of his wrists. Too tight. They jangled against the wooden headboard.
The second hit landed across his ass, the third right above it. The fourth went just a tad bit too high and caught his balls and Changmin cried out.
“You are not counting,” Yoochun-master said, and Changmin quickly moved his hand to show four fingers.
The next hit went right across his cock and balls and the pain that shot up Changmin’s skin was almost more than he had ever endured. He felt himself scream, heard it echo around his room, and then another slap landed in the same place, and then another. His head swam and he had a vision of his ceiling, a glass ceiling where someone, lots of someones, watched him writhe and watched him suffer on the bed, and then the ceiling broke and the glass shattered and Changmin’s skin bloomed with red holes that did not bleed and his breath stopped, and the ceiling, the normal one, turned gray and swirly and his body sagged in its bindings.
Yoochun-master chuckled. Above him? Below him? From somewhere.
The plug left his ass, and Changmin whimpered in protest as his body clamped and tightened around nothing. Something dripped to his skin, his body, the plug yanked on his balls. His skin hurt, his head ached, everything felt just perfect.
And then Yoochun-master’s hands gripped his hips and his cock slid into him all the way and that was just about perfect. Changmin would have come right then without all the bindings. Hands and fingers spread through his hair and lips danced over his cheek and neck. He heard Yoochun-master’s voice but not the words. The tone, happy and teasing. Changmin’s chest tightened, tears fell from his eyes. Not in pain, even if everything hurt. But from Yoochun-master, who always seemed to know just what he needed. Even when it came to sex. Especially when it came to sex.
Yoochun-master moved slowly inside him, hands never pausing, sliding over Changmin’s sore bleeding? skin and down his chest, touching his nipples and his muscles. Fingertips teased the curve of his knee and the tips of his toes.
He took out the dildo from his throat and replaced it with his tongue, barely giving Changmin enough time to take a heavy deep breath. His kiss was a frantic fuck of a tongue in his throat. But his hips stayed steady, slow, controlled. Changmin’s own body was not his own and he pulled at his wrists, using the support to attempt to thrust up, meet Yoochun’s movements. A weird aching pain traveled down his arms, and then Yoochun-master stopped, told him to hold still. His fingers were at his ankles, and the sudden release had blood flowing back to his toes and he screamed at the sudden painful feeling and then both legs were hooked at Yoochun-master’s elbows. He shifted and held him and then fucked him, harder, faster, and Changmin screamed out his pleasure, the pain, the perfection through the room. The headboard smacked into the wall, the metal cut into his wrists as he tried again and again to yank his arms down to hold.
He had forgotten about the plug, the shoelace, the cockring, but Yoochun-master suddenly pulled on the string, and it slid against the sensitive skin, leaving a line of pain as it left him, and the cockring was gone.
Yoochun-master’s warm hand replaced it and Changmin felt more than heard Yoochun-master tell him to come. Just in time too. After only a few pumps of his master’s hand, Changmin was screaming, body shaking, and he was coming, releasing and spraying his orgasm all the way up to his face and neck. His lungs tried to work, pulling in air and expelling it in heavy sobs. His entire body shook, muscles cramping.
Yoochun-master released the cuffs and Changmin continued to cry, curled up against Yoochun-master’s chest with his hands running over his skin, pushing into his muscles to relax them. It felt like a panic attack but with pleasure stealing his voice, his movements, his breath. Instead of fear.
There was no fear. Not in Yoochun-master’s arms.
“Good boy,” Yoochun-master whispered. “Such a good boy. Let go, baby. It’s okay to let go.”
Aware of his face pressed to bare skin, Changmin clung to Yoochun-master, arms around his waist, but then he did as he was told, and he let go and sagged boneless to the bed and let himself pass out. Because he was safe, he knew he was safe.
---
Changmin woke up, practically with a smile on his face, though he did not smile often. He woke up feeling ... relief. Yes, relief, though he was not sure why.
He woke up feeling satisfied. A little sore, but really satisfied.
And he woke up, for the first time, with a feeling of belonging. He did not feel alone, and that was why he smiled.
He woke up and he was not alone.
Blinking, he turned to the side to watch Yoochun-master beside him. Yoochun-master had his eyes shut, though Changmin did not know if he was actually asleep. Yoochun-master was naked, long, wavy, soft black hair a sharp contrast to his hard muscles and pale skin, their bodies close and Changmin shifted the few tiny spaces to press their skin together.
Yoochun-master took a deep breath and moved, rolled to his side, arms around Changmin’s body, and pulled him close. Changmin went and ended up with his face pressed against Yoochun-master’s chest, an arm around his middle, legs easily shifting to wrap together. Naked. Head to toe. Sleeping. Touching. Holding.
Changmin did not sleep, but smiled and smiled and smiled until Yoochun-master woke up. He smiled at the sleepy kiss Yoochun-master gave him. He smiled at the soft touch on his ass. He smiled at the whispered command to roll over and smiled when he got into position and let Yoochun-master fuck away their erections. He smiled through their bath together. He smiled through the massage. He smiled when Yoochun-master spread ointment over the cuts and bruises at his wrists and ankles, cooing at him and calling him a good boy. He smiled when Yoochun-master fed him dinner from his fingers, and afterward, he smiled as Yoochun-master trailed the welts from the belt with is tongue and smiled when Yoochun-master ate out his ass and fingered him and fucked him while he was bent over the dining room table.
And he smiled when Yoochun-master did not tuck him into bed and leave that night, but stripped and crawled in with him and held him tightly until they both fell asleep.
Part 4: Nothing Nice
Part 2: Nothing Normal
Part 1: Nothing New
.
Pairing: Yoochun/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Man, if they were my butlers ... but alas, they are not.
Summary: Changmin is protected. The heir to the throne is always a target. He must be protected. Confined. Imprisoned. Until he is needed. He cannot handle it. He cannot survive like that. He is ready to do something drastic. And then Yoochun-nim shows him a way to relax, a way to unwind. A way to rebel.
A/N: I know, I know. Another fic. But this one is not my fault. Well, mostly. I've been watching "Black Butler" for about a week, and well, yeah ... I only stole the phrase "Young Master" from that because just ... unf. Anyway. That said, this fic is not underage, but it does have an age gap. Changmin is 18, and Yoochun is 35.
A/N2: This is 4 parts now because Yoochun wanted to fuck Changmin and Changmin needed some kisses ... and a reason to smile. ;)
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Part 3:
I updated the warnings for this fic:
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Tight.
Relax.
Tight
Relax.
It mattered on what was inside his ass, how many times in one minute he went through the process. When it was something that vibrated, it was more. When it was just a buttplug or a dildo, it was less.
It mattered on if he had been allowed to come within the last few hours or not. Needing to come made the process faster.
It mattered on if he was sitting in a chair (a higher number) or laying on his bed (a lower number) or in position, waiting for Yoochun-master to use him (the highest number).
Changmin learned that it didn’t matter how often his body went through the process. But that orgasms mattered. At least one a day, two if he really needed it, three if Yoochun-master was feeling extra generous.
Changmin learned that leaving his clothes on the floor meant he was tossed over Yoochun-master’s lap and his ass giving a thorough spanking. Leaving books strewn about his study or attempting to eat without Yoochun-master to feed him prompted the same punishment.
Not that he minded. He was an adult. He knew how to take care of himself. He knew how to clean up after himself. But that was not the point of the small things that let him rebel and get in trouble.
And skin on skin hurt in the most delicious way.
Leather on skin made his head light, his body float, his skin sizzle.
And wood on skin, the rough hewn scrape of a paddle, well, Changmin had yet to explain what exactly that made him do besides come without permission.
Changmin analyzed his brain almost on a daily basis. It was different now than it had been two months ago. But different how? Just enough that he no longer threw chairs at the window. He no longer thought to throw chairs at the window. But he still felt caged, looking down at the people so far below. Specks moving this way and that.
His breath still quickened when he thought of that. His life moved slow. His life moved through four rooms. Four because he was honest with himself.
And then life stopped, for brief moments, just like his orgasms stopped for long moments. Yoochun-master took it all away. For a while. Changmin still had to exercise. He still had to study. He still had to learn law and history and science and physics. Because ultimately his life had a goal and a purpose. But it was different because Yoochun-master let him study with a plug in his ass, let him exercise different parts of his body with other parts of his body restrained, let him recite obscure laws and decrees and have a paddle slap against his ass if he got it wrong, which made it more tempting to answer wrong, but if he answered all wrong, then his orgasm was denied for another few hours, and as he learned early on, the orgasms mattered.
“That is twice you have sighed in the last twenty minutes, Changmin-ah,” Yoochun-master said, running his hands through Changmin’s hair.
Changmin shut his eyes and tilted his head into the touch that trailed down his neck, fingers soft against the hickys and faded bite marks. He shifted on the floor, the small plug in his ass, shifted with him, and he let out a little sigh. The book on ancient history, when their country was split in two, lay across one knee. He had read the same paragraph four times. So unlike him.
“I cannot concentrate today, Yoochun-master.”
“Why not?”
Changmin frowned and thought about that. The day had been no different than the day before except that Yoochun-master had allowed him to come in the shower while Yoochun-master pissed over his skin.
“I ...”
Changmin was also learning how to talk about what he was feeling, usually because Yoochun-master ordered him to.
“I ... I am ... content. Happy, maybe?”
“And this bothers you?”
Changmin bit his lip and nodded.
Yoochun-master tugged on his ear. “How come?”
Glancing up, Changmin felt his cheeks flush, his neck heat, and he said, “What if it all goes away?”
“You are afraid,” Yoochun-master said. He tugged on the back of Changmin’s neck, pulling in a command to turn, kneel, and Changmin did, shuffling between his legs. He kept his hands on Yoochun-master’s thighs because he did not have permission to touch anywhere else. He felt his eyes tighten, tears threatening.
He was too old to cry when he was not being denied an orgasm.
“What are you afraid of?”
Changmin met his eyes, pondering how to say it, how to explain, if he should say it, what if he shouldn’t. “I do not want you to go away.”
Yoochun-master smiled. “I will not.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. Trust me, Changmin-ah. I am not going anywhere.”
“What about--” He glanced at the window. He never talked to Yoochun-master about outside. About after. About his future. He understood his future. He understood what was expected of him as the heir to the throne. The Shim family had ruled the United Republic of Korea for centuries. Other countries’ media called it “Shim Korea” or “Shim’s Family Playland.” It was definitely not a republic. His family ruled with laws and decrees that kept control of the people. He understood how to rule and Yoochun-master even coached him on how to keep the farce of a parliament in line to the Shim control.
But his father was mortal. His father would die. Changmin would rule in his place. Changmin would go outside, be outside, walk around outside. Be exposed.
He did not want to bear it if Yoochun-master left him.
Yoochun-master cupped his cheeks. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
Yoochun-master smiled and covered the space between their lips. Kisses were few and far between, usually only given in the moment before Yoochun-master released. Or after, soft kisses of comfort. Kisses like this one were non-existent. Yoochun-master picked up his hands, put them on his own cheeks, and Changmin shivered, able to touch, encouraged to touch, and he slid his hands back, into Yoochun-master’s long hair. His fingers found the ribbon and he tugged on it, loosening its hold, and Yoochun-master hummed into his mouth, sliding his hands down Changmin’s shoulder. He slid his tongue forward and Changmin met it with a noise and a jerk, wanting more of his mouth, more of his taste, more of that outdoor-spicy-forbidden smell of his skin and clothes.
When Yoochun-master pulled away, Changmin was crying. He did not know why he was crying. He did not know why his chest was so tight. He did not know why he wanted to just stare at Yoochun-master, touch his hair, kiss his lips.
Yoochun-master wiped at Changmin’s cheeks. “Let’s break the schedule today, Changmin-ah,” he said. “Go to the bedroom. Be naked and in position for me in the middle of the bed.”
Changmin bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yes, master.”
“Good boy.”
Changmin shifted around and crawled out of the study and into his bedroom. He no longer wanted to think, so instead of folding his clothes properly at the end of the bed like Yoochun-master taught him to do, Changmin flung them on the floor. He climbed on the bed and laid flat for only a moment, letting his body tight relax tight relax around the dildo inside him, and then he pushed up, to his knees, head turned and flat on the bed, gripping his ankles.
And he waited. He normally did not mind waiting. He normally controlled his breathing, relaxed his body, and counted the tight relax tight relax.
But after this, after telling Yoochun-master his fear of him not being there, he panicked and breathed deep. HIs head went light. His muscles shook.
He dug his fingernails into his ankles and did not feel the pain.
Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten.
Changmin’s gasps echoed in the room. He felt the panic close his throat. Felt his lungs fill with non-existent water. Felt his head go light. Felt his muscles attempt to relax and give up and pass out.
But he did not break position. Because what if Yoochun-master walked through the door and he was not as ordered? He did not want to disappoint Yoochun-master. Not ever.
But what if Yoochun-master did not come through the door? What if someone else came through the door?
Changmin whined, a loud, low sound that hurt his throat and squeezed tears from his eyes. His body swayed side to side.
“Shh, Changmin-ah, shh. You’re okay.” Hands ran up the back of his thighs. Yoochun-master cooed at him, talking nonsense until Changmin relaxed.
Changmin gasped in relief, deep sobs that had his back swaying, his knees collapsing.
“I am sorry that took me so long,” Yoochun-master said, running first his hands and then his mouth up the back of Changmin’s thighs and to his ass.
Changmin attempted to steady his breathing, calm now that familiar hands were on him and Yoochun-master would make it hard for him to think about anything else.
“Such a naughty boy, leaving your clothes all over the place. You will be punished for it, don’t think I’ll forget, but not right now. For now, I need to you to roll to your back and lift your hands to the headboard.”
Changmin’s headboard was made of wooden, carved posts that let the white wall behind peek through. When he was younger, he used to pretend it was a jail cell. Now, Yoochun-master used the posts to bind him.
Changmin turned over and lifted his arms. A second later, Yoochun-master straddled his chest, still clothed, the soft fabric of his pants caressing his side. He shivered, skin prickling with goosebumps.
Cold metal clicked around his wrists and Changmin looked up in surprise. Handcuffs. Yoochun-master had never used handcuffs before.
“I snuck them in,” he explained and that was it.
Changmin wanted to ask. It made sense that someone told Yoochun-master what to do outside of the room. He had rules to follow. But Changmin rarely thought about it. Because outside did not affect his inside.
What a lie that was turning out to be. Everything outside affected how he lived his life inside these four, small, illusionary rooms.
“If you do not have red marks on your wrists from those by the time I am done with you, then you are not trying hard enough to show me your pleasure. Understand?”
“Yes, master.”
Yoochun-master smiled as he slid back down his body. “Good boy, but that isn’t really enough, now is it?”
A long dildo pressed against his mouth and Changmin moaned, opening for it. HIs cock pulsed precome onto his stomach as the dildo settled and then Yoochun-muster buckled it around his head.
“Say your safeword,” Yoochun-master demanded, “so I know I can understand it through this gag.”
Changmin used his eyes to pout.
Yoochun-master smiled. “It is just a precaution, Changmin-ah. I plan on playing with you until either you tell me to stop or if I get bored of you and you should know by now that I rarely get bored of you. Say it. Safety is always first, you know that.”
Changmin shut his eyes and tried to talk about the gag. It came out as “efeneetste.” He gagged on the dildo.
Yoochun-master told him to say it again and then scream it. And he nodded. “Good boy. That dildo is going to stay in your throat, so I need to know what your safeword sounds like coming through it. Now.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together before taking a thick cock ring from his pocket. It had a loop on it and Changmin moaned at the idea of all the uses for that loop.
“No coming,” Yoochun-master said, “not even by accident. I plan on doing more than enough to make you come, so you get a cockring today. Thank me.”
Changmin said thank you even though it was muffled.
Yoochun-master stroked his cock a couple of times before latching the cockring at the base. It snugged tightly and Changmin felt his cock throb around it and under it, through it. Yoochun-master gripped his knees and lifted them up. His hand slid to his ankles, and then both of his legs were up, straight, and then pressed against the headboard, next to his hands.
Changmin groaned from the stretch, eyes shut, tears leaking from them.
The soft sash from Changmin’s terrywood robe tied one foot to the frame and then looped through both cuffs at his wrists and tied the other foot to the frame.
“Lovely,” Yoochun-master said and trailed a finger down Changmin’s leg, pausing to tickle his knee.
Changmin shivered, head falling back with a whimper. He was very thankful when Yoochun-master’s tongue followed the same trail. It gave Changmin something to focus on. Something to anticipate. Each leg was licked and bit, and hickys were added to the inside of his knees and down the back of his thighs.
“I will be right back,” Yoochun-master whispered.
Changmin’s eyes shot open and his cry of protest stayed muffled behind the dildo. He gagged again, body lurching from the suddenness.
Yoochun-master smiled and rubbed his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “Trust me. I will be right back. I am only going to the closet to dig through the toy drawer.”
Changmin shut his eyes and nodded.
Yoochun-master pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Such a good boy.”
And as Yoochun-master left the room, he started whistling. Changmin focused on the sound, followed it away from the room, into the closet and it was no longer loud, but still there, showing him that Yoochun-master did not leave. And then it grew closer again, and it was in the room, and Changmin did not have time to panic at being alone because he hadn’t been alone.
He hadn’t been alone since Yoochun-master first walked through the door.
“God, you’re gorgeous, Changmin-ah. It’s a wonder I managed to keep my hands off you for so long.”
Changmin whimpered, body sagging in the bindings, head falling back between his arms. He’d never had his legs and arms stretched so much before. There was a little give, so his knees were slightly bent, just enough that he did not feel like his hips were going to come out of the sockets. But he hoped that Yoochun-master released him soon. He had only used his safe word once. Too many smacks to the face. Too many punches on his side. Too many breaths denied. He had almost passed out.
“So pretty like this.” Yoochun-master ran his hands up Changmin’s legs again. “I have been wanting to touch you since you were thirteen years old, even when you were throwing things and yelling, or being a complete and utter brat. But you were also letting me take care of you and hold you when you were having panic attacks.” Fingers ran up and down his stomach, to his cock and then down to his balls. “There were so many times when I thought about just fucking you, raping you, forcing you open with my cock, leaving you bleeding and crying, but I knew that if I just waited a little, had a little more patience, you’d come to me.” Yoochun-master squeezed his balls, and Changmin moaned behind the gag. “That day when you asked me to touch you, well, I thought I was dreaming.”
Something trailed along the sensitive skin of Changmin’s balls, and then his erection was tugged up, and Yoochun-master chuckled.
“This is a shoelace that I am now wrapping around your balls.”
Changmin’s head shot up and he opened his eyes to look. Vision blurry, he saw the black shoelace go up and around the red skin of his sac. Around each one, between them, looped through the ring on his cock, and then moved down, and looped through the small ring of the plug still inside him, tying everything together. When his cock jerked, the string yanked on his balls, which threatened to pull out the plug,
tight tight tight tight tight
And that pulled at the string and then the ring around his cock.
Changmin moaned.
“Do you like it?”
Changmin nodded.
Yoochun-master flicked his balls and Changmin screamed from the suddenness and the sharp pain that sliced up his skin.
“Now, pretty sure just a few moments ago, you left your clothes all over the floor and threw your book to the side without caring how it landed.” Yoochun-master yanked his own belt off, and Changmin moaned, skin flushing in anticipation. “Count them. With your fingers.” He folded the belt, gripping the buckle, and brought the leather down across Changmin’s hip.
Changmin whimpered. When the first quick slap echoed around the room, Changmin unclenched a fist and held up one finger. Difficult with his hands in cuffs, metal cuffs that bit into the skin of his wrists. Too tight. They jangled against the wooden headboard.
The second hit landed across his ass, the third right above it. The fourth went just a tad bit too high and caught his balls and Changmin cried out.
“You are not counting,” Yoochun-master said, and Changmin quickly moved his hand to show four fingers.
The next hit went right across his cock and balls and the pain that shot up Changmin’s skin was almost more than he had ever endured. He felt himself scream, heard it echo around his room, and then another slap landed in the same place, and then another. His head swam and he had a vision of his ceiling, a glass ceiling where someone, lots of someones, watched him writhe and watched him suffer on the bed, and then the ceiling broke and the glass shattered and Changmin’s skin bloomed with red holes that did not bleed and his breath stopped, and the ceiling, the normal one, turned gray and swirly and his body sagged in its bindings.
Yoochun-master chuckled. Above him? Below him? From somewhere.
The plug left his ass, and Changmin whimpered in protest as his body clamped and tightened around nothing. Something dripped to his skin, his body, the plug yanked on his balls. His skin hurt, his head ached, everything felt just perfect.
And then Yoochun-master’s hands gripped his hips and his cock slid into him all the way and that was just about perfect. Changmin would have come right then without all the bindings. Hands and fingers spread through his hair and lips danced over his cheek and neck. He heard Yoochun-master’s voice but not the words. The tone, happy and teasing. Changmin’s chest tightened, tears fell from his eyes. Not in pain, even if everything hurt. But from Yoochun-master, who always seemed to know just what he needed. Even when it came to sex. Especially when it came to sex.
Yoochun-master moved slowly inside him, hands never pausing, sliding over Changmin’s sore bleeding? skin and down his chest, touching his nipples and his muscles. Fingertips teased the curve of his knee and the tips of his toes.
He took out the dildo from his throat and replaced it with his tongue, barely giving Changmin enough time to take a heavy deep breath. His kiss was a frantic fuck of a tongue in his throat. But his hips stayed steady, slow, controlled. Changmin’s own body was not his own and he pulled at his wrists, using the support to attempt to thrust up, meet Yoochun’s movements. A weird aching pain traveled down his arms, and then Yoochun-master stopped, told him to hold still. His fingers were at his ankles, and the sudden release had blood flowing back to his toes and he screamed at the sudden painful feeling and then both legs were hooked at Yoochun-master’s elbows. He shifted and held him and then fucked him, harder, faster, and Changmin screamed out his pleasure, the pain, the perfection through the room. The headboard smacked into the wall, the metal cut into his wrists as he tried again and again to yank his arms down to hold.
He had forgotten about the plug, the shoelace, the cockring, but Yoochun-master suddenly pulled on the string, and it slid against the sensitive skin, leaving a line of pain as it left him, and the cockring was gone.
Yoochun-master’s warm hand replaced it and Changmin felt more than heard Yoochun-master tell him to come. Just in time too. After only a few pumps of his master’s hand, Changmin was screaming, body shaking, and he was coming, releasing and spraying his orgasm all the way up to his face and neck. His lungs tried to work, pulling in air and expelling it in heavy sobs. His entire body shook, muscles cramping.
Yoochun-master released the cuffs and Changmin continued to cry, curled up against Yoochun-master’s chest with his hands running over his skin, pushing into his muscles to relax them. It felt like a panic attack but with pleasure stealing his voice, his movements, his breath. Instead of fear.
There was no fear. Not in Yoochun-master’s arms.
“Good boy,” Yoochun-master whispered. “Such a good boy. Let go, baby. It’s okay to let go.”
Aware of his face pressed to bare skin, Changmin clung to Yoochun-master, arms around his waist, but then he did as he was told, and he let go and sagged boneless to the bed and let himself pass out. Because he was safe, he knew he was safe.
---
Changmin woke up, practically with a smile on his face, though he did not smile often. He woke up feeling ... relief. Yes, relief, though he was not sure why.
He woke up feeling satisfied. A little sore, but really satisfied.
And he woke up, for the first time, with a feeling of belonging. He did not feel alone, and that was why he smiled.
He woke up and he was not alone.
Blinking, he turned to the side to watch Yoochun-master beside him. Yoochun-master had his eyes shut, though Changmin did not know if he was actually asleep. Yoochun-master was naked, long, wavy, soft black hair a sharp contrast to his hard muscles and pale skin, their bodies close and Changmin shifted the few tiny spaces to press their skin together.
Yoochun-master took a deep breath and moved, rolled to his side, arms around Changmin’s body, and pulled him close. Changmin went and ended up with his face pressed against Yoochun-master’s chest, an arm around his middle, legs easily shifting to wrap together. Naked. Head to toe. Sleeping. Touching. Holding.
Changmin did not sleep, but smiled and smiled and smiled until Yoochun-master woke up. He smiled at the sleepy kiss Yoochun-master gave him. He smiled at the soft touch on his ass. He smiled at the whispered command to roll over and smiled when he got into position and let Yoochun-master fuck away their erections. He smiled through their bath together. He smiled through the massage. He smiled when Yoochun-master spread ointment over the cuts and bruises at his wrists and ankles, cooing at him and calling him a good boy. He smiled when Yoochun-master fed him dinner from his fingers, and afterward, he smiled as Yoochun-master trailed the welts from the belt with is tongue and smiled when Yoochun-master ate out his ass and fingered him and fucked him while he was bent over the dining room table.
And he smiled when Yoochun-master did not tuck him into bed and leave that night, but stripped and crawled in with him and held him tightly until they both fell asleep.
Part 4: Nothing Nice
Part 2: Nothing Normal
Part 1: Nothing New
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