In His Place Epilogue
Title: In His Place Epilogue
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.
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Epilogue:
I updated the warnings for this fic:
Warning: This chapter contains het.
14 months later...
Changmin decided that if he had known that being king meant fighting for every little thing he wanted, he never would have left his four rooms on the top of the tower. Every decision he made was questioned, reworded, thrown back at him, confused, twisted. His words were taken out of context. His actions scrutinized by the media he supposedly controlled and by the Parliament who resented his control.
It took months to sway the Parliament, months of word games and orders. Months of almost losing his temper.
Months of tight relax tight relax tight relax. He learned very early on that having either a cockring, a buttplug, or nipple clamps helped him keep his head, helped him focus, helped him weave words back at the politicians that tried to fight him. It was not as difficult as it could have been though, as Yoochun-master continually told him. The head of parliament was Jung Yunho, one of Kim Jaejoong’s childhood friends, and Yoochun-master told him once that he was sure the two of them were fucking. Jung Yunho usually agreed with Changmin, but it was the other twelve that they had to convince.
He was raised believing the king had ultimate control, and he did, but he just fought for it every single day.
Fought for it every day and let himself sink into his master’s hands every single night.
He fought for so many things that his own father never bothered about. He read his father’s daily notes on everything from the smallest choice of the color of the new paint on his walls to the decision of letting people out of their country who were not exactly Korean. But his father did not care about Changmin’s mother. His mother was discussed two weeks after his father’s coronation. “The wife is not yet pregnant.” The next time she was mentioned was two weeks after. “The wife has finally conceived. It had better be a boy.” And then, “The baby is a boy, which means my wife has fulfilled her purpose.”
Eight months later, the first mention of Changmin said nothing about his mother. “The heir was born and will be protected as before.”
His mother was never mentioned again, never mentioned by name. He had no idea who she was.
He vowed to change that, and even Yoochun-master fought him on that decision. But as always, he won, so when Seohyun’s very first child ended up being a girl, the baby was not “erased,” but born nine months after Changmin had been crowned king. He allowed his wife to name their daughter Soomin.
He did not write out his ledgers with “the wife.” He called her by name and even paused once to fill an entire page of her face. He drew pretty well, Yoochun-nim had told him. And his daughter had a special page, just for her, describing her face and her eyes and the way her nose scrunched just before she cried. Every week, he added something new in there about his wife, about Sunny, about his daughter, the first time she smiled, the first time she laughed, the first time she ate something not sucked from her mother’s breast. He liked to re-read it and read it to Seohyun (who had never learned to read because it was not her place, but Sunny knew how, and was slowly teaching her).
Yoochun-master did not approve at first about his daughter, but it was only because it meant that after the princess’ birth, Changmin had to fuck his wife again.
Changmin did not mind, and the punishments afterward were more of rewards to Changmin anyway.
Changmin’s second child was a son. Changmin fought to keep his wife out of the heir’s tower for her own protection. Junsu assigned her bodyguards instead. He refused to let his son grow as he did. He had almost gone crazy. He did not want to risk his own son’s mentality on whether or not he had a “Yoochun-master” as his own.
And unlike during her first pregnancy, Seohyun wanted and needed to be touched and fucked. Sunny did a pretty good job with toys, mouth, and fingers, but it wasn’t the same, according to Seohyun, so he bent her over her favorite divan, took her from behind, fingers in her ass, and gave her more orgasms in the first four months than she knew what to do with.
Of course, because he wasn’t actually trying to get Seohyun pregnant, he himself was not allowed to come, ordered not to, and Changmin did not mind that at all. He stayed hard and aching, cockrings digging into his flesh, while his wife came again and again. And afterward, depending on how completely angry his master was, Yoochun-master kept him from coming for hours longer.
Yoochun-master was jealous, though Changmin had no idea why. He fucked and begged and submitted to Yoochun-master way more than he joined his wife in bed.
Maybe it was the same reason why Changmin grew annoyed when he saw his master laughing and sitting with Kim Jaejoong or Kim Junsu. Jealousy was an ugly thing. He did not like to share. He grew up never having to share anything.
One night, almost five months into his wife’s second pregnancy, Changmin left her in bed, left her to Sunny to clean up or get distracted. He pressed a kiss to Seohyun’s forehead and said goodnight to both of them. He went into his own private rooms. He had not won with securing Seohyun her own rooms, so Changmin started calling their private quarters just Seohyun’s quarters. She spent way more time there than he did. He spent way more time in his quarters with Yoochun-master.
When he arrived at his rooms, his master was not there, which only meant he had to wait, and that was okay. Waiting made the anticipation worse. Waiting made the need to come worse.
He did not shower. He did not dress. He kneeled on the length of rug from the bed to the closet and he waited in position.
tight relax tight relax
Changmin centered his breathing. Even though his cock was restrained, a thin stream of precome dripped from the tip, breaking when his stomach muscles twitched, jerking his cock up to smack against his skin. He started sweating.
The door opened, and his master laughed, though the noise was combined with Jaejoong’s laughter too. He flushed, not really expecting Yoochun-master to bring someone in, but then again, Changmin was not usually naked and in position without Yoochun-master ordering him that way.
He did not move just breathed a bit faster. tightrelaxtightrelaxtightrelax
“I fucking knew it,” Jaejoong said.
“Shut up. On your knees, Changmin-ah.”
Changmin tightened all his muscles and lifted his upper body from the carpet. He ended up sitting back mostly, ass not quite touching the ground, body supported by his arms, hands still gripping his knees.
“You are going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out about this.”
Yoochun-master scoffed. “Changmin-ah, why do I do what I do for you?”
“Because you are my master.”
Jaejoong made a noise of disbelief.
“And why am I your master?”
Changmin turned his head and instead of looking at Yoochun-master, he looked at Jaejoong. “Because I want you to be my master.”
Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “Are you insane?”
Yoochun-master opened his mouth to answer, but Changmin beat him to it. “Not anymore.”
His master chuckled. “I told you what he was like, Jaejoong. I told you over and over that he had to get out of there. Being raised in a room like that is no way to raise anyone. Especially not a teenager whose biggest fear is dying alone.”
Changmin frowned, but he had no chance to snap at his master for saying that. Yoochun-master gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Changmin winced at the pull and felt tears in his eyes.
“What are you doing in here, Changmin-ah? I quite distinctly heard your wife screaming her way to an orgasm in her bedroom.”
“Another one?” Changmin asked with a smirk. “I thought I’d given her enough.”
Yoochun-master actually growled.
“If you want a taste, I’m sure my mouth and dick still taste like her.”
Changmin heard Jaejoong snort out laughter, but his hair was pulled, a palm sliced across his face, and then his mouth was open and the comforting and much more alluring and appetizing taste of Yoochun-master’s cock slammed into his throat.
Changmin gagged just once, broke the position, hands lifting to steady himself, and then he remembered and put them back on his ankles.
Master growled in annoyance, and Changmin anticipated the punishment to come. Master gripped his hair even tightly, thrusts going faster, growls turning to words that Changmin knew that Yoochun-master did not actually mean. He hated sharing. Changmin hated sharing too. Master’s grumbles faded with the lack of breath. Changmin breathed and choked from the onslaught, but it was too difficult to focus on Master’s pleasure and his breathing, so he picked Master’s pleasure. His head went light, his body swaying. Master held him in place with his fingers tangled in Changmin’s hair. His cock pressed inside his mouth, his face to the front of Master’s shirt. Over and over.
It was his throat that kept his attention, kept his sanity. tight relax tight relax tight relax
When Master pulled away, Changmin whined, mouth open, begging for more. He did not realize that Master was through until come splattered all over his face. He tried to move forward, swallow his cock while he shuddered through his orgasm, but Master held him still until he was through, and then he used both hands to spread his release over Changmin’s face, into his hair, and down his neck. It stung in his eyes.
“Get the smell of her off you.”
Changmin smiled, loopy and content.
“This is not good,” Jaejoong said.
Changmin had forgotten about him.
“First rule,” Master said, smacking his hand to the mess on Changmin’s cheek.
“Safety.”
“What is your safe word?”
“Defenestrate.”
“Tell Jaejoong why you picked that word.”
Changmin looked over at Jaejoong, at the man who gave him advice on the military, the man he respected and who respected him in turn because Jaejoong was loyal to the king, just as his entire family had been his entire life.
“I picked that word because I couldn’t actually throw myself out a window.”
Jaejoong face held no emotion, but Changmin knew he was thinking on that. So he continued, “I could not break the windows. I could not sink into a tub long enough to drown. There was nothing sharp enough to cut into my wrists. There was no medication or cleaning supplies or anything that I could use to poison myself. And there was nowhere that I could twist up a contraption to choke myself. And even if I could, Master was always there anyway. He would not let me. The only thing I wanted to do was escape. Master gave that to me.”
Jaejoong crossed his arms.
“Satisfied?” Master asked.
Jaejoong snorted. “With what?”
“That explanation.”
“Barely.”
“Good enough. Get out.”
Changmin whined and pulled his head back, arching into the grip that Master still had on his hair.
“You want him to watch, Changmin-ah?”
Changmin opened his eyes and smiled. The come was drying on his face, itching and uncomfortable. “I want him to watch how much you please me.”
Yoochun-master licked his lips. “Please you? You are not going to be allowed to come for a very long time.”
“I know. That pleases me greatly.”
“Very well.” Master turned to his friend. Changmin looked at Master. “Stay or go. He needs to be punished.”
Changmin’s knees dragged over the rug, pulling it out of place as Yoochun-master yanked him across the room. He cried out and felt his hair tear, and found himself facedown on the table.
Changmin smiled, spread his arms and legs, and let his master use him.
---
Sometimes Changmin woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of being in a box too small, a glass room with everyone in his life on the other side of the walls, or Yoochun-master dying.
And then Yoochun-master shifted in bed beside him, and Changmin relaxed because it was only a dream.
His body ached. His head swam a bit. The handcuffs had left cuts on his wrists and ankles. The smallest pain twisted over his nipples at the brush of the sheets on his skin. Master had punished him for a long time. But his muscles were not too sore. His body was well-pleasured. He’d come three times once Master gave him permission.
Master took very good care of him before, during, and after sex.
He propped up on an elbow and ran his finger down Master’s shoulder and up to his neck. A few minutes later, Master’s back heaved with a breath and he slowly woke up.
Changmin smiled at the disgruntled face glaring at him in the dim light. The sun was on its way up, spreading dawn through the city. Changmin’s curtains were open. The dull glow turned everything blue and gray.
“What?” Master asked, voice deep and gravelly from sleep.
“May I ask something of you, Yoochun-master?
Master smiled. “Now? Can’t it wait until we’re actually awake?”
“You are awake. I am awake.”
Master huffed. “You know you can ask anything of me.”
“Tell me what love means.”
Master tilted his head in thought. “You know what it means.”
Changmin huffed. “That is not--”
Master chuckled. “Changmin-ah. You know what love means. I’ve caught you reading about it and pondering it. Why is this important enough that you have woken me before the sun?”
“I did not mean to wake you, and you always know when I need you, so it’s your own fault for being awake before the sun.”
“Not the point.”
Changmin huffed. “I do not understand what love is. The definition is easy to recite. But the definition, unlike some things, does not explain the emotion.”
“Do you think you are in love?” Yoochun-master asked.
“I do not know. That is why I am asking you.”
Yoochun-master shook his head. “I do not want to lay here and talk about what you may or may not be feeling for your wife.”
Changmin stared at him, eyes wide, and then he laughed. “My wife? You think I’m asking because I’m in love with Seohyun?”
Yoochun-master stared at him. “Aren’t you? You care for her more than any king has ever cared for his wife.”
“And I have explained,” Changmin said, “that is because I was taught to take care of people. I was taught to respect life. I was taught to provide for those that may not have as much as I have. But that does not mean I love her. Have you ever been in love, Master?”
Yoochun-master sighed deeply, roughly, the noise a mixture of exasperation and ... fear. Maybe. But Yoochun-master had never been afraid of anything. “Everyone has been in love, no matter how they try to stop it.”
“With Jaejoong?”
Yoochun-master snorted. “No.”
“Junsu? Yunho? Junsu’s brother, Junho?”
Yoochun-master smiled and shook his head. “They are my friends. I love them of course, but I am not in love with them.”
“I do not understand that difference.”
“I do not think you can understand the difference until you feel it. Love is complicated because of that. Love is based on the way you feel for different people and on the things you’re willing to do and sacrifice for each person.”
Changmin stared at him for a long time. “That makes sense. It really does.”
“Love doesn’t make sense, Changmin-ah.”
Changmin chuckled and shifted closer to his master. “But what you said does make sense because it separates the love I feel for my wife and children from the love I feel for my master. The way my chest tightens when you’re near me. The way my body aches when you aren’t near me. The way my thoughts drift to you throughout the day. That has to be love, doesn’t it?”
Yoochun-master sat up, his back to Changmin, and Changmin ran his fingers up and down his spine. He watched the sun brighten the pale skin.
The alarm suddenly blared from the side table, and Yoochun-master jumped and twisted to turn it off. Changmin kept his hand on his skin, but his hand had slid down his hip.
“Do you love me?” Changmin whispered.
Yoochun-master turned to look at him. Their eyes met and Changmin knew the answer to that question without his master saying anything. But it was a dangerous answer, so Yoochun-master deliberated. Back and forth. Say yes or no. But Yoochun-master had never lied to him and so Changmin did not need him to confirm or deny because he felt it when Yoochun-master touched him, looked at him, and kissed him.
Kissing. That sounded great.
Changmin sat up, hands moving up his body and he pulled Yoochun-master to his mouth, kissing and settling back into the bed, under the covers. They kissed through a second alarm, and then a third, and then through Yoochun-master’s phone ringing again and again.
“Let me be sick today,” Changmin said suddenly.
“Why?”
Changmin smiled. “So you can show me how much you love me.”
Yoochun-master cleared his throat and swallowed roughly. “I try to do that every single day, Changmin-ah.”
“You do a very good job.”
Yoochun-master cupped his cheek and ran his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “I love you.”
Changmin smiled, quick and bright, to the point of surprised laughter and almost tears. His chest swelled, breath short and he nodded, leaned forward for a quick kiss, and arms and bodies wrapped up, rolled them over and Changmin mirrored the action, hand on Yoochun’s cheek, thumb under his eye. “So it does not matter what the definition is. It does not matter that what you feel for me is the same as I feel for you because it might be different. I don’t think it is, but I cannot be certain because you must be someone in order to know exactly what they are feeling. But you love me?”
“Of course.”
“And I do not understand the emotions yet, I don’t, but I do know that whatever this emotion is, whatever this feeling is, it makes me happy. You make me happy. You make me feel alive and content in the world of chaos. That has to mean something, right?”
Yoochun-master opened his mouth to reply, but Changmin kissed him, shut him up for a few long seconds and then pulled away, slow and careful. Gazes locked and with a smile, Changmin said, “I love you.”
Yoochun-master shut his eyes and yanked Changmin back to his mouth.
“Please. Let me be sick today,” Changmin said between kisses. “I do not want either of us to get out of this bed unless it is to go get in the bath.”
“What about if I want you to ride my cock on the couch or I want to fuck you over the dining room table?”
Changmin laughed. “Yeah, okay.” They kissed again until Yoochun-master’s phone rang again. Despite Changmin’s protest at being denied his mouth, Yoochun-master rolled over and found his phone on the floor. He smirked at the reading and answered it.
“Jaejoong-ah. Can you handle or reschedule Changmin’s meetings today? ... Well, he’s a little sick. ... He is not going to be allowed out of bed. ... Yes, allowed. As his personal assistant--” Changmin actually heard Jaejoong’s snort through the phone. “--I am making him stay in bed. No one wants to see the king when he’s snotty and ill. ... Well, you are not allowed to come and check.” Yoochun-master’s eyes danced with mischief, and Changmin suddenly wanted a taste of his master. He slid over the bed and started at Yoochun-master’s hip, mouth sliding over skin to the erection bobbing between Yoochun-master’s thighs. He moaned into the phone and then chuckled. “Definitely sick.” He hung up the phone and gripped Changmin’s hair, pulling him off his cock and back up to his mouth.
“You love me?” Yoochun-master asked.
Changmin nodded. “Let me show you how much.”
“Only if you let me show you how much I love you too.”
Changmin crawled up and straddled Yoochun-master’s hips. The blanket flung around them, turning their world gray again. “It may take me all day.”
“It’s a good thing you’re sick.”
Changmin laughed and nodded. “Definitely. But it’s also a very good thing that I am here, with you, because being a king, being a father, being a husband, those are only titles, only things that other people call me. But here, with you, this ...” He bit his lip and tried to find a way to say it. “This is where I belong. This is my place.”
Yoochun smiled. “Mine too. For as long as you will allow it.”
“Do not say that like I am suddenly going to toss you away.”
“People fall in and out of love all the time.”
“Do you see yourself not loving me in the next few years? The next ten years? The next twenty?”
“Of course not. I will always love you.”
“Then shut your mouth and put it to a better use.”
Yoochun smirked. “As you wish, Young Master.”
Part 4: Nothing Nice
Part 3: Nothing Needed
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.
Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, het, and other such things
Epilogue:
I updated the warnings for this fic:
Warning: This chapter contains het.
14 months later...
Changmin decided that if he had known that being king meant fighting for every little thing he wanted, he never would have left his four rooms on the top of the tower. Every decision he made was questioned, reworded, thrown back at him, confused, twisted. His words were taken out of context. His actions scrutinized by the media he supposedly controlled and by the Parliament who resented his control.
It took months to sway the Parliament, months of word games and orders. Months of almost losing his temper.
Months of tight relax tight relax tight relax. He learned very early on that having either a cockring, a buttplug, or nipple clamps helped him keep his head, helped him focus, helped him weave words back at the politicians that tried to fight him. It was not as difficult as it could have been though, as Yoochun-master continually told him. The head of parliament was Jung Yunho, one of Kim Jaejoong’s childhood friends, and Yoochun-master told him once that he was sure the two of them were fucking. Jung Yunho usually agreed with Changmin, but it was the other twelve that they had to convince.
He was raised believing the king had ultimate control, and he did, but he just fought for it every single day.
Fought for it every day and let himself sink into his master’s hands every single night.
He fought for so many things that his own father never bothered about. He read his father’s daily notes on everything from the smallest choice of the color of the new paint on his walls to the decision of letting people out of their country who were not exactly Korean. But his father did not care about Changmin’s mother. His mother was discussed two weeks after his father’s coronation. “The wife is not yet pregnant.” The next time she was mentioned was two weeks after. “The wife has finally conceived. It had better be a boy.” And then, “The baby is a boy, which means my wife has fulfilled her purpose.”
Eight months later, the first mention of Changmin said nothing about his mother. “The heir was born and will be protected as before.”
His mother was never mentioned again, never mentioned by name. He had no idea who she was.
He vowed to change that, and even Yoochun-master fought him on that decision. But as always, he won, so when Seohyun’s very first child ended up being a girl, the baby was not “erased,” but born nine months after Changmin had been crowned king. He allowed his wife to name their daughter Soomin.
He did not write out his ledgers with “the wife.” He called her by name and even paused once to fill an entire page of her face. He drew pretty well, Yoochun-nim had told him. And his daughter had a special page, just for her, describing her face and her eyes and the way her nose scrunched just before she cried. Every week, he added something new in there about his wife, about Sunny, about his daughter, the first time she smiled, the first time she laughed, the first time she ate something not sucked from her mother’s breast. He liked to re-read it and read it to Seohyun (who had never learned to read because it was not her place, but Sunny knew how, and was slowly teaching her).
Yoochun-master did not approve at first about his daughter, but it was only because it meant that after the princess’ birth, Changmin had to fuck his wife again.
Changmin did not mind, and the punishments afterward were more of rewards to Changmin anyway.
Changmin’s second child was a son. Changmin fought to keep his wife out of the heir’s tower for her own protection. Junsu assigned her bodyguards instead. He refused to let his son grow as he did. He had almost gone crazy. He did not want to risk his own son’s mentality on whether or not he had a “Yoochun-master” as his own.
And unlike during her first pregnancy, Seohyun wanted and needed to be touched and fucked. Sunny did a pretty good job with toys, mouth, and fingers, but it wasn’t the same, according to Seohyun, so he bent her over her favorite divan, took her from behind, fingers in her ass, and gave her more orgasms in the first four months than she knew what to do with.
Of course, because he wasn’t actually trying to get Seohyun pregnant, he himself was not allowed to come, ordered not to, and Changmin did not mind that at all. He stayed hard and aching, cockrings digging into his flesh, while his wife came again and again. And afterward, depending on how completely angry his master was, Yoochun-master kept him from coming for hours longer.
Yoochun-master was jealous, though Changmin had no idea why. He fucked and begged and submitted to Yoochun-master way more than he joined his wife in bed.
Maybe it was the same reason why Changmin grew annoyed when he saw his master laughing and sitting with Kim Jaejoong or Kim Junsu. Jealousy was an ugly thing. He did not like to share. He grew up never having to share anything.
One night, almost five months into his wife’s second pregnancy, Changmin left her in bed, left her to Sunny to clean up or get distracted. He pressed a kiss to Seohyun’s forehead and said goodnight to both of them. He went into his own private rooms. He had not won with securing Seohyun her own rooms, so Changmin started calling their private quarters just Seohyun’s quarters. She spent way more time there than he did. He spent way more time in his quarters with Yoochun-master.
When he arrived at his rooms, his master was not there, which only meant he had to wait, and that was okay. Waiting made the anticipation worse. Waiting made the need to come worse.
He did not shower. He did not dress. He kneeled on the length of rug from the bed to the closet and he waited in position.
tight relax tight relax
Changmin centered his breathing. Even though his cock was restrained, a thin stream of precome dripped from the tip, breaking when his stomach muscles twitched, jerking his cock up to smack against his skin. He started sweating.
The door opened, and his master laughed, though the noise was combined with Jaejoong’s laughter too. He flushed, not really expecting Yoochun-master to bring someone in, but then again, Changmin was not usually naked and in position without Yoochun-master ordering him that way.
He did not move just breathed a bit faster. tightrelaxtightrelaxtightrelax
“I fucking knew it,” Jaejoong said.
“Shut up. On your knees, Changmin-ah.”
Changmin tightened all his muscles and lifted his upper body from the carpet. He ended up sitting back mostly, ass not quite touching the ground, body supported by his arms, hands still gripping his knees.
“You are going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out about this.”
Yoochun-master scoffed. “Changmin-ah, why do I do what I do for you?”
“Because you are my master.”
Jaejoong made a noise of disbelief.
“And why am I your master?”
Changmin turned his head and instead of looking at Yoochun-master, he looked at Jaejoong. “Because I want you to be my master.”
Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “Are you insane?”
Yoochun-master opened his mouth to answer, but Changmin beat him to it. “Not anymore.”
His master chuckled. “I told you what he was like, Jaejoong. I told you over and over that he had to get out of there. Being raised in a room like that is no way to raise anyone. Especially not a teenager whose biggest fear is dying alone.”
Changmin frowned, but he had no chance to snap at his master for saying that. Yoochun-master gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Changmin winced at the pull and felt tears in his eyes.
“What are you doing in here, Changmin-ah? I quite distinctly heard your wife screaming her way to an orgasm in her bedroom.”
“Another one?” Changmin asked with a smirk. “I thought I’d given her enough.”
Yoochun-master actually growled.
“If you want a taste, I’m sure my mouth and dick still taste like her.”
Changmin heard Jaejoong snort out laughter, but his hair was pulled, a palm sliced across his face, and then his mouth was open and the comforting and much more alluring and appetizing taste of Yoochun-master’s cock slammed into his throat.
Changmin gagged just once, broke the position, hands lifting to steady himself, and then he remembered and put them back on his ankles.
Master growled in annoyance, and Changmin anticipated the punishment to come. Master gripped his hair even tightly, thrusts going faster, growls turning to words that Changmin knew that Yoochun-master did not actually mean. He hated sharing. Changmin hated sharing too. Master’s grumbles faded with the lack of breath. Changmin breathed and choked from the onslaught, but it was too difficult to focus on Master’s pleasure and his breathing, so he picked Master’s pleasure. His head went light, his body swaying. Master held him in place with his fingers tangled in Changmin’s hair. His cock pressed inside his mouth, his face to the front of Master’s shirt. Over and over.
It was his throat that kept his attention, kept his sanity. tight relax tight relax tight relax
When Master pulled away, Changmin whined, mouth open, begging for more. He did not realize that Master was through until come splattered all over his face. He tried to move forward, swallow his cock while he shuddered through his orgasm, but Master held him still until he was through, and then he used both hands to spread his release over Changmin’s face, into his hair, and down his neck. It stung in his eyes.
“Get the smell of her off you.”
Changmin smiled, loopy and content.
“This is not good,” Jaejoong said.
Changmin had forgotten about him.
“First rule,” Master said, smacking his hand to the mess on Changmin’s cheek.
“Safety.”
“What is your safe word?”
“Defenestrate.”
“Tell Jaejoong why you picked that word.”
Changmin looked over at Jaejoong, at the man who gave him advice on the military, the man he respected and who respected him in turn because Jaejoong was loyal to the king, just as his entire family had been his entire life.
“I picked that word because I couldn’t actually throw myself out a window.”
Jaejoong face held no emotion, but Changmin knew he was thinking on that. So he continued, “I could not break the windows. I could not sink into a tub long enough to drown. There was nothing sharp enough to cut into my wrists. There was no medication or cleaning supplies or anything that I could use to poison myself. And there was nowhere that I could twist up a contraption to choke myself. And even if I could, Master was always there anyway. He would not let me. The only thing I wanted to do was escape. Master gave that to me.”
Jaejoong crossed his arms.
“Satisfied?” Master asked.
Jaejoong snorted. “With what?”
“That explanation.”
“Barely.”
“Good enough. Get out.”
Changmin whined and pulled his head back, arching into the grip that Master still had on his hair.
“You want him to watch, Changmin-ah?”
Changmin opened his eyes and smiled. The come was drying on his face, itching and uncomfortable. “I want him to watch how much you please me.”
Yoochun-master licked his lips. “Please you? You are not going to be allowed to come for a very long time.”
“I know. That pleases me greatly.”
“Very well.” Master turned to his friend. Changmin looked at Master. “Stay or go. He needs to be punished.”
Changmin’s knees dragged over the rug, pulling it out of place as Yoochun-master yanked him across the room. He cried out and felt his hair tear, and found himself facedown on the table.
Changmin smiled, spread his arms and legs, and let his master use him.
---
Sometimes Changmin woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of being in a box too small, a glass room with everyone in his life on the other side of the walls, or Yoochun-master dying.
And then Yoochun-master shifted in bed beside him, and Changmin relaxed because it was only a dream.
His body ached. His head swam a bit. The handcuffs had left cuts on his wrists and ankles. The smallest pain twisted over his nipples at the brush of the sheets on his skin. Master had punished him for a long time. But his muscles were not too sore. His body was well-pleasured. He’d come three times once Master gave him permission.
Master took very good care of him before, during, and after sex.
He propped up on an elbow and ran his finger down Master’s shoulder and up to his neck. A few minutes later, Master’s back heaved with a breath and he slowly woke up.
Changmin smiled at the disgruntled face glaring at him in the dim light. The sun was on its way up, spreading dawn through the city. Changmin’s curtains were open. The dull glow turned everything blue and gray.
“What?” Master asked, voice deep and gravelly from sleep.
“May I ask something of you, Yoochun-master?
Master smiled. “Now? Can’t it wait until we’re actually awake?”
“You are awake. I am awake.”
Master huffed. “You know you can ask anything of me.”
“Tell me what love means.”
Master tilted his head in thought. “You know what it means.”
Changmin huffed. “That is not--”
Master chuckled. “Changmin-ah. You know what love means. I’ve caught you reading about it and pondering it. Why is this important enough that you have woken me before the sun?”
“I did not mean to wake you, and you always know when I need you, so it’s your own fault for being awake before the sun.”
“Not the point.”
Changmin huffed. “I do not understand what love is. The definition is easy to recite. But the definition, unlike some things, does not explain the emotion.”
“Do you think you are in love?” Yoochun-master asked.
“I do not know. That is why I am asking you.”
Yoochun-master shook his head. “I do not want to lay here and talk about what you may or may not be feeling for your wife.”
Changmin stared at him, eyes wide, and then he laughed. “My wife? You think I’m asking because I’m in love with Seohyun?”
Yoochun-master stared at him. “Aren’t you? You care for her more than any king has ever cared for his wife.”
“And I have explained,” Changmin said, “that is because I was taught to take care of people. I was taught to respect life. I was taught to provide for those that may not have as much as I have. But that does not mean I love her. Have you ever been in love, Master?”
Yoochun-master sighed deeply, roughly, the noise a mixture of exasperation and ... fear. Maybe. But Yoochun-master had never been afraid of anything. “Everyone has been in love, no matter how they try to stop it.”
“With Jaejoong?”
Yoochun-master snorted. “No.”
“Junsu? Yunho? Junsu’s brother, Junho?”
Yoochun-master smiled and shook his head. “They are my friends. I love them of course, but I am not in love with them.”
“I do not understand that difference.”
“I do not think you can understand the difference until you feel it. Love is complicated because of that. Love is based on the way you feel for different people and on the things you’re willing to do and sacrifice for each person.”
Changmin stared at him for a long time. “That makes sense. It really does.”
“Love doesn’t make sense, Changmin-ah.”
Changmin chuckled and shifted closer to his master. “But what you said does make sense because it separates the love I feel for my wife and children from the love I feel for my master. The way my chest tightens when you’re near me. The way my body aches when you aren’t near me. The way my thoughts drift to you throughout the day. That has to be love, doesn’t it?”
Yoochun-master sat up, his back to Changmin, and Changmin ran his fingers up and down his spine. He watched the sun brighten the pale skin.
The alarm suddenly blared from the side table, and Yoochun-master jumped and twisted to turn it off. Changmin kept his hand on his skin, but his hand had slid down his hip.
“Do you love me?” Changmin whispered.
Yoochun-master turned to look at him. Their eyes met and Changmin knew the answer to that question without his master saying anything. But it was a dangerous answer, so Yoochun-master deliberated. Back and forth. Say yes or no. But Yoochun-master had never lied to him and so Changmin did not need him to confirm or deny because he felt it when Yoochun-master touched him, looked at him, and kissed him.
Kissing. That sounded great.
Changmin sat up, hands moving up his body and he pulled Yoochun-master to his mouth, kissing and settling back into the bed, under the covers. They kissed through a second alarm, and then a third, and then through Yoochun-master’s phone ringing again and again.
“Let me be sick today,” Changmin said suddenly.
“Why?”
Changmin smiled. “So you can show me how much you love me.”
Yoochun-master cleared his throat and swallowed roughly. “I try to do that every single day, Changmin-ah.”
“You do a very good job.”
Yoochun-master cupped his cheek and ran his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “I love you.”
Changmin smiled, quick and bright, to the point of surprised laughter and almost tears. His chest swelled, breath short and he nodded, leaned forward for a quick kiss, and arms and bodies wrapped up, rolled them over and Changmin mirrored the action, hand on Yoochun’s cheek, thumb under his eye. “So it does not matter what the definition is. It does not matter that what you feel for me is the same as I feel for you because it might be different. I don’t think it is, but I cannot be certain because you must be someone in order to know exactly what they are feeling. But you love me?”
“Of course.”
“And I do not understand the emotions yet, I don’t, but I do know that whatever this emotion is, whatever this feeling is, it makes me happy. You make me happy. You make me feel alive and content in the world of chaos. That has to mean something, right?”
Yoochun-master opened his mouth to reply, but Changmin kissed him, shut him up for a few long seconds and then pulled away, slow and careful. Gazes locked and with a smile, Changmin said, “I love you.”
Yoochun-master shut his eyes and yanked Changmin back to his mouth.
“Please. Let me be sick today,” Changmin said between kisses. “I do not want either of us to get out of this bed unless it is to go get in the bath.”
“What about if I want you to ride my cock on the couch or I want to fuck you over the dining room table?”
Changmin laughed. “Yeah, okay.” They kissed again until Yoochun-master’s phone rang again. Despite Changmin’s protest at being denied his mouth, Yoochun-master rolled over and found his phone on the floor. He smirked at the reading and answered it.
“Jaejoong-ah. Can you handle or reschedule Changmin’s meetings today? ... Well, he’s a little sick. ... He is not going to be allowed out of bed. ... Yes, allowed. As his personal assistant--” Changmin actually heard Jaejoong’s snort through the phone. “--I am making him stay in bed. No one wants to see the king when he’s snotty and ill. ... Well, you are not allowed to come and check.” Yoochun-master’s eyes danced with mischief, and Changmin suddenly wanted a taste of his master. He slid over the bed and started at Yoochun-master’s hip, mouth sliding over skin to the erection bobbing between Yoochun-master’s thighs. He moaned into the phone and then chuckled. “Definitely sick.” He hung up the phone and gripped Changmin’s hair, pulling him off his cock and back up to his mouth.
“You love me?” Yoochun-master asked.
Changmin nodded. “Let me show you how much.”
“Only if you let me show you how much I love you too.”
Changmin crawled up and straddled Yoochun-master’s hips. The blanket flung around them, turning their world gray again. “It may take me all day.”
“It’s a good thing you’re sick.”
Changmin laughed and nodded. “Definitely. But it’s also a very good thing that I am here, with you, because being a king, being a father, being a husband, those are only titles, only things that other people call me. But here, with you, this ...” He bit his lip and tried to find a way to say it. “This is where I belong. This is my place.”
Yoochun smiled. “Mine too. For as long as you will allow it.”
“Do not say that like I am suddenly going to toss you away.”
“People fall in and out of love all the time.”
“Do you see yourself not loving me in the next few years? The next ten years? The next twenty?”
“Of course not. I will always love you.”
“Then shut your mouth and put it to a better use.”
Yoochun smirked. “As you wish, Young Master.”
Part 4: Nothing Nice
Part 3: Nothing Needed
Part 2: Nothing Normal
Part 1: Nothing New
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