Strip for your Present 1/3
Title: Strip for your Present
Pairings: JaeChun, XiMin, some JaeHo, and mentions of more.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yoochun has a crush on the best stripper in town. He might get sex, or romance, or both, or nothing. (written from his POV).
Warnings: BDSM, toys, Chun is 17, Jae is 23.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone. But if Heechul owned a strip club that only accepts rich businessmen, I’d borrow money and dress up as one.
A/N: For be-ddelusionall ♥♥♥ Let's do the sentimental birthday speech thing tomorrow.
Every time Jaejoong rolls his hips, I have to fight back a moan.
I’ve worked in a strip club for almost three months, so you’d think I’d have gotten used to seeing naked men by now. But Jaejoong is... different.
I’m not a stripper myself. Of course not, who would want to see me naked? I’m bony, have no visible muscles and my skin is the wrong kind of pale, which I found out when I started comparing myself to the strippers here.
It’s my job to watch the audience.
I’m not even really with security myself, I just warn them when someone breaks the rules, so they don’t have to keep an eye on things themselves.
It’s possibly one of the worst jobs in the world. No one wants to stare at a bunch of fat sweaty businessmen when there’s a striptease going on in front of them.
But it’s necessary, because in HL the rules are strict and it’s hard to follow them.
The main rule is that you’re not supposed to stand up from your seat during a show, and you’re not allowed to move your seat closer to the stage either. The more you pay, the closer you will be.
It’s not rare that a stripper comes down and allows a couple of men to touch him though.
Everybody wants to touch Jaejoong, which is why I should pay very close attention to the audience during his shows.
I never pay attention to the audience during Jaejoong’s shows.
So far nothing has happened though. I think that as much as the men want to climb on the stage and rape him, they also want him to keep teasing, simply because it’s the hottest damn thing in the world.
Besides, if you touch a stripper without their consent, you get banned, and nobody wants to get banned from HL.
HL is the best strip club in town, possibly in the entire country. Jaejoong obviously plays a big part in that, but the other strippers are really good too.
Before I worked here I passed the club on the way to my previous crappy job and I always wondered what HL stands for.
On my first day I listened to the men who come here regularly and found out that they all assume it’s High Libido.
Only last week did Junsu tell me that it’s really Heechul’s Lair.
Junsu is the only stripper who’s actually talked to me so far. No one else seems to even have noticed that I work here now, not even the guys from security. I don’t have to call them over often, the audience is usually good and not too drunk. There are exceptions, but rarely.
I have seen the owner, Kim Heechul, only once, when he hired me.
He’s a bit intimidating. No, very intimidating. He walked up to me and actually grabbed my chin and touched my lips, I still don’t know why I let him.
He said that he usually only hires people for their perfect looks, but that there was something about my general appearance that he’d make an exception for.
I’d never payed much attention to my looks before, but I do since I work here. Apparently they’re not very good, or Heechul just thinks they’re not, but I think that means they aren’t.
When the men get up from their chairs after a show and pass me, they sometimes look at me like they want to rape me, and when I press my back against the wall and brace myself, they smirk.
Sometimes I wonder if Heechul hired me because he thinks I look innocent and naïve. I think I am.
When the change in light and music indicates the beginning of Jaejoong’s show, I already feel my pants tighten and I shift uncomfortably in my corner.
I’m always jealous of the men in the chairs. Not just because they’re actually allowed to watch, but also because they’re sitting and they can spread their legs.
I can’t complain about my uniform though. Yes, the pants are tight - even when I’m not excited - and the shirt cut incredibly low, but the waiters only wear boxers and a tie, and they have to walk between the chairs. The men are allowed to touch the waiters.
Jaejoong’s show isn’t just a striptease, it has a story, like a play.
When he walks onto the stage he’s wearing a suit, a black suit. He looks shy, nervous. He’s just acting and we know he is, but he’s good.
He’s bent over a bit as he walks, his blond hair hanging into his face, and his hands are bound behind his back with a red ribbon.
Someone is leading him, pushing him. As a character in this story I suppose I should call him Jaejoong’s master. Mostly the master is played by Yunho, sometimes it’s Siwon or Leeteuk. He’s always wearing black leather pants and a black mask around his eyes.
At this point the men in the chairs shout things like ‘how much for that pretty slave of yours?’ but I never pay attention to them. Neither does anyone on stage.
Today Jaejoong is roughly pushed down on his knees at the edge of the stage and bows his head even lower. I don’t like seeing him like that, I want to see his face too.
Maybe it’s strange to pay attention to a stripper’s face, and I never do it with the others, but I do with Jaejoong.
I think I’m in love with Jaejoong.
I know everybody says that and I also know that it’s impossible because I’ve never actually spoken to him, but I still think I am.
I don’t just want to see the muscles in his arms move as he tries to free himself.
I don’t just want to see the way his thighs stretch the fabric of his pants and I don’t just want to think about what’s underneath.
I also want to see his eyes, how strong and beautiful they look, I want to pretend they’re looking at me and shiver.
I want to see his lips part, but not just for his tongue to come out and wet them, I want him to say my name.
It happens in my dreams. I’ve had many, many dreams about Jaejoong looking at me, really looking at me, and saying my name, just that, just ‘Yoochun,’ while looking at me.
I always wake up in my own come after dreams like that.
Even though I also have less innocent dreams about him, I deduct from that that I don’t just want him to touch me, I want him to want me, for me.
I desire the impossible.
To me, HL stands for Hopeless Love.
The master grabs Jaejoong’s hair and yanks his head back, Jaejoong licks his lips.
In the few months I’ve been here Jaejoong’s show hasn’t changed much. The details have, new outfits, new music, new moves, but the big lines of the ‘story’ are always the same.
It’s when the master is proudly showing his ‘slave’ to the audience with an arrogant grin on his face that Jaejoong manages to free his wrists.
That’s when the music gets faster and louder and the show really starts.
And the reversal of their roles begins.
Jaejoong tries to overpower his ‘master’. We all know who is going to win, but I still hold my breath every time. Today Jaejoong loses his jacket in the struggle, the sleeves of his white shirt barely reach his elbows and I groan at the sight of his naked arms. His muscles strain and his skin glows.
When I finally manage to shift my attention back to the ‘master’ I see that he’s already on his knees and tied up with the ribbon. His black mask is pulled down and gagging him. It’s Yunho again today.
I’m jealous of him, which is weird, because I’ve never felt the desire to be tied up and gagged in front of a bunch of roaring old men before.
Jaejoong smirks down at his new slave and yanks his hair, Yunho’s head snaps back and he winces. Jaejoong now pulls him forward and presses his crotch against his face.
He rolls his hips, on the beat, and closes his eyes, lips parting. I have to bite my own lips against a moan.
Jaejoong gives Yunho a command and no one hears it, but we all see Yunho’s bound hands come up and start to unbuckle Jaejoong’s black pants.
When they fall down and he steps out of them we groan as one as tight dark jeans are revealed. My eyes aren’t the only ones immediately focusing on the bulge in the front.
Jaejoong doesn’t wear the erotic clothing other strippers wear. No brightly colored thongs or netted tank tops, only occasionally leather pants or gloves. He doesn’t look like a strip tease, he looks like pure sex. He doesn’t need accessories to turn people on.
And then he dances, proving that.
It’s like he forgets about his slave for the moment, leaves him bound and gagged and needy, needy because there’s a clear bulge in Yunho’s pants as well.
My own bulge throbs when Jaejoong rips his shirt open, buttons flying, to reveal his perfect abs.
I’ve always wondered if he covers his skin in oil mixed with glitter or if it’s just naturally glowing. The general perfection of his body causes me to see the second as a definite possibility.
He moves to the music, perfectly in sync, and not just his hips or his arms, everything, every single part of his body waves and slides and seduces us.
I never know what to focus on.
The muscles in his legs move in the tight jeans as he bends his knees for powerful thrusts of his hips.
His hands are everywhere, sliding over his thighs, his sides, his stomach, his chest, rubbing the bulge in his pants, messing up his hair.
His face, I could stare at his face forever.
Sometimes his eyes are closed, sometimes they open and pierce through everyone they meet. I like to imagine that he looks at me. He probably doesn’t, but it still sets my skin on fire.
His lips are almost always parted, sometimes his tongue comes out and my knees threaten to buckle.
Sweat makes his hair stick to his face and his skin shines even more.
When he lets his shirt slide down from one of his shoulders and licks his lips again, I have to lean back against the wall for support.
I must look pathetic, but I don’t care, I can’t even think during moments like these. All that my mind can produce is: ‘fuck’. I’m sure that’s what would come out if I’d try to say something.
Jaejoong bends his knees and we all think he’s going to do another hip thrust, but he doesn’t. He lowers himself to the stage until he’s kneeling, legs spread under him, and he palms his erection.
When he lets his head fall back and bucks into his hand, the sounds coming from the audience are louder than the music.
When he rests his weight on his hands and swings his legs off the stage, people start calling him over.
I don’t, but I want to.
He smirks, always in control. He walks pas a few chairs, swaying his hips, minimal movements, in a way that doesn’t make him look like a slut but is incredibly hot.
Finally he stops and bends over, leveling his face with someone. I always wonder if he whispers something into their ear or just blows against it. Sometimes they get incredibly lucky and he picks up one of their hands and puts it on his thigh or stomach, allowing them to feel his muscles for a while, but not today.
Today he trails his fingers down over the man’s arm and then he’s gone again, back up on the stage in one smooth movement.
I’ve seen more than one man come in their pants after a simple teasing touch like that, I know I would.
Jaejoong continues like his dance was never interrupted, but now he starts to open his pants. This is probably one of my favorite moments.
I can’t say that Jaejoong has ever touched me, or that he even knows I exist, but I can say that I’ve seen his cock, almost every other night. It sounds nice when I say it like that: I see Jaejoong hard and practically naked almost every other day.
He pushes the pants down enough to reveal his erection and he strokes it, head falling back, mouth opening and closing. I think it’s the sexiest thing in the world and the moment where strip tease starts to border on sex show.
Jaejoong finally remembers his slave.
Yunho is sweating and fighting his binds and bucking his hips up. His broad muscled chest and the huge bulge in his leather pants don’t make the general image any less sexy, but somehow I only have eyes for Jaejoong.
Jaejoong pulls the mask down more until it’s around Yunho’s neck and he can use it as a collar, Yunho chokes when he yanks on it.
Jaejoong uses that opportunity to shove his erection down Yunho’s throat, gagging him. This is another one of those moments where I long to be Jaejoong’s slave and doubt my sanity for it.
Jaejoong’s hand moves to Yunho’s hair so he can control the movement and fuck his face. They definitely passed the sex show border now.
I think this is a moment where most people would focus on the hard cock disappearing between stretched lips, but I always look at Jaejoong’s face.
Jaejoong throws his head back, mouth open, still managing to seductively lick his lips again. I can see his chest heave with his quick breaths, but other than that he stays in complete control over his body.
Sometimes I wonder what is going on in his head. If he likes doing this, if he and Yunho are the together kind of together.
But soon the lust clouds my mind completely and I just lean back against the wall, trying not to touch myself, trying not to reach orgasm without touching myself, trying.. well, actually, not really trying anything, I can’t think, just feel, lust, want, dreams.
Jaejoong’s glistening cock slips out of Yunho’s mouth. Jaejoong slaps his cheeks with it.
He touches himself some more, dances some more, teases Yunho. I can’t even follow everything, I can just gasp and try to look past the blur in my eyes.
Jaejoong never comes on stage. Yunho does sometimes. I don’t think he’s supposed to, but when he suddenly curls into himself, body shaking, mouth open in a scream, I don’t blame him. Jaejoong just smirks and pulls him backstage.
Jaejoong’s show is always the last one, the climax.
The good thing is that I can go take care of my erection sooner, the bad thing that a bunch of frustrated businessmen see it as they pass me to go drink some more or order a private striptease if they have enough money.
Sometimes they try to grope me, sometimes they succeed. It makes me feel dirty.
If it weren’t for Jaejoong I would have quit this job a long time ago. The pay isn’t that good.
I wonder if Jaejoong ever feels dirty. I don’t want to think about him stripping for someone in a private room. I hope that he’s so expensive no one can afford him.
Even though I try not to, I think about that as I shuffle to the toilets, between mental curses directed at my tight pants.
I feel pathetic. Having to stroke yourself off in toilet cubicle, biting your own hand to muffle your moans, doesn’t boost your confidence much.
I had a boyfriend once. He used me to get close to my younger brother. Just the physical kind of close.
Yes, I was hurt when I found out, but I still find some satisfaction in remembering his expression when I told him that he wasted time and effort and flowers. Some money would have been enough. Yoohwan sells himself.
One day I’ll earn enough money and finally succeed in convincing him to stop.
I try, every day, but what can I say to ‘do you want our family to starve?’
I keep telling myself that, when I find a better job, I’ll leave here.
I don’t know if I can. I hope that I’ll put my brother before my stupid delusional crush on the most beautiful stripper in the world.
I’m almost there. Luckily the toilets are for rich customers and clean. At least I won’t have to stroke myself off in a dirty cubicle.
I don’t know why I’m staring at my crotch, pathetic anticipation? Probably.
Fact is that I don’t pay attention to where I’m going and walk - shuffle actually, which makes it even more stupid - into a body.
I stammer an apology and look up.
I finish my apology and continue to wonder how the hell I was able to.
Maybe because it takes a while to sink in that a big, huge, part of my vision is filled with most beautiful stripper, a much bigger part than during his shows. He’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top.
“Hello, Yoochun,” Jaejoong says, while looking at me.
I slam my open mouth shut and bite my tongue, trying to wake myself up. Not that I really want to.
Probably the only thing that seems real is Jaejoong’s smirk. It’s not the loving smile with just a hint of mischief of my dreams.
But he knows my name. Jaejoong knows my name.
Drunk voices sound from around a corner and Jaejoong suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me with him, through a door that he locks behind him, up a flight of stairs, down another hallway and into a room. He locks this door as well.
I’ve never been here, and I’ve never seen Jaejoong down there outside of his shows.
There’s a bed here, a coffee table, a couch, a TV. I never thought about where Jaejoong lives. Does he live here?
That’s nice but Jaejoong, fucking Jaejoong is standing in the same room. Fuck.
Just... fuck.
Why was I sure this wasn’t a dream again?
I don’t have time to doubt that for long as Jaejoong suddenly steps forward and pushes me into a wall. I feel the impact on my back enough for this to be real.
He presses up against me.
I bite my lip, close my eyes, and tense my muscles. Maybe that’ll lessen the sensations shooting through my entire body everywhere his warmth touches it.
But he’s so close that his breath hits my face.
He rolls his hips, grinding against my erection, and I can’t keep in my ragged moan, can’t keep my body from going slack and falling against his.
When I get my legs to support me and open my eyes, I see his smirk.
He rolls his hips again and seems amused by my reaction. But there’s also coldness in his eyes. Like he’s keeping a distance from me, mentally, like he does this every day and doesn’t really care.
Don’t ask me how I notice details like that in my current state, but I do, and it hurts, stings, somewhere.
“...no...” I mutter, after my next moan.
He doesn’t listen and makes his body slide over my erection in just the right way again.
“No...,” I breathe.
He isn’t kissing me, it’s just... bare lust.
I have dreamed of him kissing me, I have, so often. Up until the point where I feared I was developing a fetish for his lips. Not a lip fetish, a Jaejoong’s lips fetish.
But part of me is glad that he hasn’t realized those dreams so far, because from the way he looks at me now, he might ruin them. Something stings even more painfully at that thought.
“No, plea-” He cuts me off with: “You can stop saying no now, it doesn’t turn me on or anything.”
“No, I... I...” I try to lift my hands to push him away. They’re shaking and unwilling, I can’t reach higher than his stomach. I push anyway, weakly.
He frowns and looks into my eyes. I try not to drown in his.
“I’m not going to rape you, so,” he cups my clothed erection and I feel like I’m about to faint or come or both, “Is this because of me or not?”
I moan and shake when one of his fingers moves.
“Well? Who were you thinking about getting this hard?”
“Y-you,” I finally manage.
“I thought so.” Jaejoong’s hands slide over my arms, I shiver, and they encircle my wrists. He lifts my arms and I let him. Not that I’d really be able to stop him, he’s a lot stronger.
He doesn’t just pin my wrists against the wall above my head like I expect him to, he lifts them higher and higher. He pushes his hips forward again and I’m distracted, but two clicks above me have me cut off my moan.
He releases me and steps back, but I can’t move my arms down. My muscles strain as I try.
He’s got cuffs hanging from his ceiling?
I try to free myself and they dig into my wrists, not metal, but with my entire weight on them like this they’ll surely leave bruises. I can move a bit to the sides, not far from the wall, but I can turn in a full circle. When I do the pull is suddenly stronger though and I have to stand on my toes to relieve my wrists.
I look up and see that I’m hanging on two chains, currently twisted around each other, going over pulleys attached to the ceiling close to the wall.
I hear chuckling. Jaejoong has followed my entire struggle with crossed arms and a smirk on his face, I turn my wide desperate eyes to him.
“Why do you look surprised? I thought you knew by now that I love to tease.”
I know. I’ve.. I’ve fantasized about him tying me up. And I’m still so so hard. But this is so... sudden, unexpected? Half an hour ago I was telling myself I was crazy for desiring kinky sex, something I’ve never been into, never actually thought about before I started working here.
And now I’m in the middle of it.
I try to twist myself free again, at least turn back so I’m not pulled up as high. Jaejoong stops me by shoving his hand past the waistband of my pants and holding me by my cock.
I throb and twitch in the warmth of his tight grip. His fingers feel wet against my heated skin, although it’s probably the other way around. My knees buckle and my throaty moan turns into a cry when the muscles in my arms are stretched too far.
Okay, so we’ve established that stuff like this does indeed turn me on. And it’s Jaejoong, fucking Jaejoong doing this to me. I think I’m going to have to repeat that at least a thousand more times before I can even start to believe it.
So why do I feel uneasy? Why am I not the willing obedient slave I imagine he’d like me to be? I thought I’d be prepared to play any role to please him.
It doesn’t matter what I think though, rational thoughts don’t last at all with my body screaming for more like this.
Jaejoong skillfully opens my pants and yanks them down, along with my boxers. I whine as my leaking cock springs free and is suddenly surrounded by cool air.
When he’s got me naked from the waist down he rips open my shirt. It was an expensive shirt and I had to pay for it myself when I started working here. He twists one of my nipples and I forget. My cock twitches again.
Jaejoong tsks and walks away.
“W-wait” What if he leaves me here like this?
If I weren’t panting as much I’d sigh in relief when he’s back almost immediately. I try to turn and buck into his hand when it brushes over my hip, ignoring the burn in my arms.
Something cold and tight suddenly squeezes the base of my erection, the pressure so agonizing I scream. Jaejoong’s thumb presses into my slit and rubs a harsh circle around it next, I scream louder.
“No coming yet,” he says. “And you already got a striptease tonight, so...” He hooks his thumbs behind the waistband of his sweats.
My vision blurs, my wrists and arms hurt and it’s turning me on. I can’t come and that’s turning me on even more. Jaejoong reveals his hard cock, for me, just me, no audience, and I’ve never been turned on this much in my life.
I figure I can think about if I really want this later, because fuck, it feels like I want it.
Jaejoong steps to the side and fumbles with something, I hear chains clinking, and suddenly I fall. My legs weren’t prepared for the sudden lack of pull on my ams and I land painfully hard on my knees. My arms are still lifted above my head and there’s no more give when I pull.
“Sorry,” Jaejoong says. I don’t think he’s very sorry as he suddenly grabs my chin, forces my mouth open and pushes his cock down my throat.
I gag at the first and second thrust and then I get used to it, sort of. Breathing becomes a challenge.
But it’s Jaejoong’s cock stretching my lips and rubbing against the roof of my mouth before sliding deeper. A sudden gush of precome has me gagging again, but moaning as well. He moans too, soft, not uncontrolled like me.
When my nose touches his stomach and his hands fist my hair, the ache in my knees is completely forgotten. I try to swallow, tighten my throat around him, move my tongue as much as I can.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and he pulls out, I whine for more. I pull on my restraints and hope he’ll slap my cheeks like he did with Yunho as a punishment.
He doesn’t, but he moves away again and suddenly I’m hoisted back up on my feet in two fast pulls on the chains. I cry out at the stretch.
When nothing happens, nothing other than the now usual fire raging inside of me with its agonizing flames of pleasure and pain, I realize that my eyes are closed and I open them.
Jaejoong is standing in front of me, looking at me, just looking. I manage to open my fluttering eyes a bit further.
He’s gorgeous, perfect. His face is even more beautiful, hotter, from up close. His eyes pierce through me, his hair is messy, sweat shines on his skin. He parts his lips and I want him to lick them.
“Aren’t you going to beg?”
I moan at how erotic his voice sounds. The words barely register. Have I ever heard his voice before, his actual voice? Of course I have during the past ten minutes, but I was distracted. Somehow the impermeable fog in my mind now suddenly causes my senses to sharpen. Or maybe that’s just the insane waves of need crashing over me with every little movement I make.
“The others always beg me to fuck them at this point. Have you lost your tongue?”
I have to think for ages before those sentences make sense to me and then suddenly something stands out.
“o-hng” I bite my lip against a moan when some more precome streams down my shaft and try again. “o-others?”
Jaejoong snorts. “How did you think I get off after every show? Yunho is a boring greedy slut, Junsu talks crap about staying true to his boyfriend and I get tired of the others. New guys are fun, but it was taking you awfully long to come on to me. So do you want me to fuck you or not?”
I get a feeling I should be hurt by this, or at least care. Maybe later. The last sentence seems the most important right now. I do want him to fuck me, I want..
“I-I wa-AH!” I cry out when he presses a finger against the head of my cock and plays with strings of precome.
“Yes?”
“I w-want you!”
“You want me what?”
I try to open my eyes to look at him again, when did they close? He’s smiling, radiating power and control. I want to beg, but the sight of him takes my breath away.
He steps closer. “Tell me.”
“Fuck, I want y-you to f-fuck, please fuck me!”
I don’t get time to wonder if I actually just said that, because he grabs my hips an turns me around, pressing me against the wall, my cock smashed against my stomach.
He grabs my ass and spreads it, massaging the cheeks. I want to beg more but no words come out.
Something cool and slick is on his fingers when they slide through my crack, I buck back into them, he spanks me and my body shakes.
One, two fingers, I don’t know, push into me. I clench around them, my scream loud against the wall.
The fingers are gone and something big, huge, presses against my entrance now.
I’m stretched open impossibly wide already by what I know can’t be more than just the head of his cock. My own cock is squeezed between my stomach and the wall. My balls heavy and sensitive.
He pushes in, forcing me open, but not violently. He pauses, pulls out, and tries for more. I still scream, scream until I’m hoarse and then more.
When his hips touch my ass, he pulls back out and then starts thrusting for real, I’m not sure if I’m happy that he’s aiming for my prostate. Too much, too much pleasure.
I don’t know if I black out. I might have, because the cock ring is suddenly gone and I don’t know where it went.
Jaejoong pulls my hips away from the wall, fingers digging into my skin, and pounds into me at an incredible speed, not shallow anymore.
This is the point where I finally stop screaming. I don’t really, but no more sound comes out. A small strangled gasp and my mouth stays wide open, eyes squeezed shut, as ribbons of come spurt from my cock, probably landing on the wall, the floor and our skin as Jaejoong’s erratic thrusts cause my cock to swing around, slapping against my stomach and thighs.
I know he came as well when I come to on the floor to the feeling of come dripping out of my ass.
It takes me three tries to sit up, my arms are too weak to support me. I lean against the wall.
Something soft lands on my legs, my boxers and pants. “Put those back on,” Jaejoong’s voice sounds from above me.
I manage to lift my head enough to look up at him. He’s wearing his sweats again and looking down at me, waiting.
I was right. This was just a fuck. Just something to get rid of his erection because he’s too popular to have to use his own hand.
He probably knew my name from Junsu and now I’ve moved from the list of new-guys-Jaejoong-hasn’t-fucked-yet to the list of Jaejoong’s toys. I think I was the last person on the first one.
I know I shouldn’t have expected more. What did I even expect? I don’t know.
I think I’m crying. Sweat sticks to my body, but my face wasn’t this wet, was it? With shaking hands I try to put on my boxers. Jaejoong makes an irritated sound, sinks to the floor and does it for me, rough movements. He probably wants me somewhat decent and out of his room as soon as possible.
A sob rises in my throat. Yes, I’m definitely crying. When was the last time I cried? This is ridiculous, I’m practically an adult.
Jaejoong’s fingers suddenly touch my chin and he lifts it. “Why are you crying?”
Great, now he thinks I’m a pathetic crybaby. I vow to never dream of perfect sex with hot strippers again, it does not end happily, I’d better be prepared from now on.
“Wasn’t this what you wanted?”
I lock eyes with him. No, actually it wasn’t. Or maybe it was. I wanted him to look at me, to touch me, why am I even complaining?
That last bit sounds sarcastic in my head. I’m just.. I hurt.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” He says it like that would be inconvenient at worst. I bite my lip against a new sob. Yes he did, but not in the way he means. It’s my own fault though, I hurt myself.
He frowns. It’s the first sign that he might actually care a little bit.
I gasp when his arms slide around my shoulders and under my knees and he lifts me and carries me to the couch.
“You tell me what’s wrong now because I don’t need some crap about me raping you later.”
“I w-won’t. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay, but that’s not what I mean, I want to know why you’re crying like a little boy after I obviously gave you the orgasm of your life.”
I wince at the little boy part, he notices.
“Wait, how old are you?” He looks me over, like he hasn’t before.
“Se- ...almost eighteen.” I wonder why I can’t lie to him. This could cost me my job. I should just have said twenty.
His eyes widen and there’s a short silence before he curses. “I thought you were at least two years older than that.”
I look away, hoping he won’t ask-
“How are you even working here?”
“I need the money,” I reply. “And it’s a crappy job, even if I get to watch free shows, if they catch me watching them I’m fired. I guess no one else wanted it.” I go for a forced chuckle. Why do I want to prolong this conversation? Why do I still want to be with him?
“But you watch me right? You want me? God, I’ve never had to ask those questions before. Why are you acting like I hurt you? You confuse me. Everybody is happy after they got a taste of my body, everybody, even ones that usually top.”
I’m about to reply when his face darkens again.
“You’re trying to win my sympathy, hoping I’ll do you again someday?” He let’s out a cold chuckle. “No one has ever tried that one before.”
He grabs one of my sore arms, his grip tight, and drags me to his door. He unlocks it, opens it and pushes me through. “Fuck you, don’t come back begging for more. I might ask you when I’m bored, but don’t count on it.”
The door slams shut in my face.
The sting is back, in multiple places, concentrating in my chest. He thinks I’d... I have to say something, anything. Why did I act like he hurt me?
“It’s because I’m greedy,” I say to the door, he probably doesn’t even hear. “I’m worse than all those others who want you to fuck them again. I wanted more than that.”
This is not helping, but it’s the truth.
“I’m sorry.”
I turn around and try to remember how we got here.
This has been the most climactic anticlimactic night of my life, and as my ass burns and my arms are sore but I still smile at the thought that it was Jaejoong who did this to me, I know that I need to get away from here. Not just this hallway; this place, this job.
If I stay I’ll go crazy.
When I finally find my way back into the hallway downstairs, I go to the toilets first.
I didn’t have to stroke off today. I didn’t even have someone else fuck me and only came to thoughts of Jaejoong. It was Jaejoong fucking me.
It’s his come that’s still dripping from my ass and that I’m trying to clean up now. It’s his fingers that left bruises on my hips and his cuffs that left darker bruises on my wrists.
I want to take a shower and pretend this never happened and I want to never wash my body again and relive this experience over and over again in my head while stroking my cock and fingering my ass.
As I said, I’m going crazy.
I press my forehead against the cool surface of a mirror and wait until it’s cold and then until the mirror is warm.
I walk back into the hallway, ready to flip off anyone who tells me to go do whatever chores and just go home. I hear footsteps behind me and speed up.
“Yoochun?”
At Junsu’s voice I stop and turn around. I bow and stammer a greeting.
He’s frowning, was I limping? I tried not to. I cross my arms in an attempt to hide my wrists and try to look casual.
Junsu is nice to me.
I’ve seen him reduce a police uniform to just a cap and a baton, multiple times, but I respect him.
A young man in a suit is leaning on him, or rather draped over him, as he’s a lot taller. He looks pretty drunk to me.
I’m sure about that when he slowly lifts his head and it takes his eyes more than a moment to focus on me.
“Whoyou?” he slurs.
Junsu is busy keeping a heavy arm from sliding off his shoulder so I just reply.
“I’m Yoochun.”
“Oochun!” His sudden exclamation makes me jump, he uses the tone of a parent talking to a child that’s done something wrong. “Sussu,” he keeps looking at me and hits Junsu’s shoulder as a means of pointing at him,“ ‘s mine. I’m his number one fan.” That last bit was surprisingly lucid.
Junsu shakes his head at me, but while smiling, and says: “Yes Min-ah, I am, and you are. I’ll take you home in a minute.”
“To bed?” the man ask hopefully, but right after his head falls back onto Junsu’s shoulder and if he isn’t asleep he’s at least very close to it.
“Changmin gets a bit possessive,” Junsu says to me and he sighs. “He doesn’t like my job.”
I nod in understanding.
“But I promised him I’ll quit when he takes over his father’s company.” Junsu smiles. “I won’t mind stripping just for him.”
Changmin makes a noise against his shoulder. It sounds approving, but maybe it’s just a coincidence, I doubt he’s able to follow our conversation.
In the spur of the moment I decide to tell Junsu about my decision.
I know he clearly has his own problems right now, but I feel that if I just walk out of here and no one will know - and I know they won’t miss me - then it’ll feel like I was never there.
I don’t think that I’ll ever forget Jaejoong and what he did to me. And I don’t even know if it will be a good or a bad memory.
Somehow it would be reassuring to be able to at least pretend I’ve had an influence on his life as well.
I don’t actually believe that Jaejoong would care about Junsu missing me, but it’s really all I have.
That is, if Junsu would miss me. And if I’m right about them being so close that he’d actually mention it to Jaejoong... Yeah, probably not.
“I’m about to quit as well,” I blurt out before I can change my mind and before Junsu starts dragging his drunk boyfriend outside.
He focuses on me again. “Really? Why?” He actually sounds a bit sad, warmth fills me. I’ve never had many friends.
“I.. need more money than I earn here.” I think about Yoohwan and decide that it’s not a lie, I’m just leaving out part of the truth.
Junsu frowns and the warmth in my chest begins to burn. I don’t need another reason to stay. It’s already hard enough fighting the temptation that Jaejoong still is.
But now I feel like I’d miss Junsu.
“That sucks. I’ll miss you.”
‘No, no, no’, I have to tell myself. Junsu isn’t going to be here forever either. ...okay, that’s a good reason. My resolve to stand by my decision survives.
“You’re nice Yoochun”, Junsu continues, “you always look at my face when we talk like this.”
I blink. Other’s don’t?
“I don’t know where you look when I’m on stage, because it’s too dark to see you. But I don’t blame you if you look somewhere else then.” Junsu laughs.
I don’t tell him that I often catch myself looking at his ass and that I think his hip thrusts rival Jaejoong’s. I just nod and lower my eyes.
“Well, it can’t be helped, right?” He pulls Changmin’s arm over his shoulder, making sure it doesn’t slide off. “I have to take Minnie home now. Will I still see you around for a proper goodbye?”
I think for a moment. I have to find another job before I leave, it would be bad if I don’t. I nod.
“I’ll probably be around for another week or so.” I can only hope that I’ve found a new job by then.
“Good.” Junsu smiles at me. “Come on, Min.”
I stare at their backs as they stumble down the hallway until they disappear behind a corner.
I wish I had a boyfriend like that. Not necessarily a drunk one, but one who cares if I stay true or not and one who takes care of me when I’m drunk.
He doesn’t have to be as beautiful and confident and strong as Jaejoong, but... oh who am I kidding? I still want Jaejoong. He treated me like just another hole and I still have feelings for him.
I need to get out of here.
Two days later my body has more or less recovered. I’d planned to actually watch the audience during Jaejoong’s show today, but I can’t.
If possible, I get even harder now that I know what he feels like, sounds like, how kinky he really is offstage as well.
And I still look at his face. I still want his eyes to see me.
If reality wanted to crush my dreams it should have done it good. I think it tried, but I’m just too stubborn. My impossible desire is still there.
No, it’s not just impossible anymore, it’s downright ridiculous.
But other than that not much has changed.
Every time Jaejoong rolls his hips, I have to fight back a moan.
Part 2
Pairings: JaeChun, XiMin, some JaeHo, and mentions of more.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yoochun has a crush on the best stripper in town. He might get sex, or romance, or both, or nothing. (written from his POV).
Warnings: BDSM, toys, Chun is 17, Jae is 23.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone. But if Heechul owned a strip club that only accepts rich businessmen, I’d borrow money and dress up as one.
A/N: For be-ddelusionall ♥♥♥ Let's do the sentimental birthday speech thing tomorrow.
Every time Jaejoong rolls his hips, I have to fight back a moan.
I’ve worked in a strip club for almost three months, so you’d think I’d have gotten used to seeing naked men by now. But Jaejoong is... different.
I’m not a stripper myself. Of course not, who would want to see me naked? I’m bony, have no visible muscles and my skin is the wrong kind of pale, which I found out when I started comparing myself to the strippers here.
It’s my job to watch the audience.
I’m not even really with security myself, I just warn them when someone breaks the rules, so they don’t have to keep an eye on things themselves.
It’s possibly one of the worst jobs in the world. No one wants to stare at a bunch of fat sweaty businessmen when there’s a striptease going on in front of them.
But it’s necessary, because in HL the rules are strict and it’s hard to follow them.
The main rule is that you’re not supposed to stand up from your seat during a show, and you’re not allowed to move your seat closer to the stage either. The more you pay, the closer you will be.
It’s not rare that a stripper comes down and allows a couple of men to touch him though.
Everybody wants to touch Jaejoong, which is why I should pay very close attention to the audience during his shows.
I never pay attention to the audience during Jaejoong’s shows.
So far nothing has happened though. I think that as much as the men want to climb on the stage and rape him, they also want him to keep teasing, simply because it’s the hottest damn thing in the world.
Besides, if you touch a stripper without their consent, you get banned, and nobody wants to get banned from HL.
HL is the best strip club in town, possibly in the entire country. Jaejoong obviously plays a big part in that, but the other strippers are really good too.
Before I worked here I passed the club on the way to my previous crappy job and I always wondered what HL stands for.
On my first day I listened to the men who come here regularly and found out that they all assume it’s High Libido.
Only last week did Junsu tell me that it’s really Heechul’s Lair.
Junsu is the only stripper who’s actually talked to me so far. No one else seems to even have noticed that I work here now, not even the guys from security. I don’t have to call them over often, the audience is usually good and not too drunk. There are exceptions, but rarely.
I have seen the owner, Kim Heechul, only once, when he hired me.
He’s a bit intimidating. No, very intimidating. He walked up to me and actually grabbed my chin and touched my lips, I still don’t know why I let him.
He said that he usually only hires people for their perfect looks, but that there was something about my general appearance that he’d make an exception for.
I’d never payed much attention to my looks before, but I do since I work here. Apparently they’re not very good, or Heechul just thinks they’re not, but I think that means they aren’t.
When the men get up from their chairs after a show and pass me, they sometimes look at me like they want to rape me, and when I press my back against the wall and brace myself, they smirk.
Sometimes I wonder if Heechul hired me because he thinks I look innocent and naïve. I think I am.
When the change in light and music indicates the beginning of Jaejoong’s show, I already feel my pants tighten and I shift uncomfortably in my corner.
I’m always jealous of the men in the chairs. Not just because they’re actually allowed to watch, but also because they’re sitting and they can spread their legs.
I can’t complain about my uniform though. Yes, the pants are tight - even when I’m not excited - and the shirt cut incredibly low, but the waiters only wear boxers and a tie, and they have to walk between the chairs. The men are allowed to touch the waiters.
Jaejoong’s show isn’t just a striptease, it has a story, like a play.
When he walks onto the stage he’s wearing a suit, a black suit. He looks shy, nervous. He’s just acting and we know he is, but he’s good.
He’s bent over a bit as he walks, his blond hair hanging into his face, and his hands are bound behind his back with a red ribbon.
Someone is leading him, pushing him. As a character in this story I suppose I should call him Jaejoong’s master. Mostly the master is played by Yunho, sometimes it’s Siwon or Leeteuk. He’s always wearing black leather pants and a black mask around his eyes.
At this point the men in the chairs shout things like ‘how much for that pretty slave of yours?’ but I never pay attention to them. Neither does anyone on stage.
Today Jaejoong is roughly pushed down on his knees at the edge of the stage and bows his head even lower. I don’t like seeing him like that, I want to see his face too.
Maybe it’s strange to pay attention to a stripper’s face, and I never do it with the others, but I do with Jaejoong.
I think I’m in love with Jaejoong.
I know everybody says that and I also know that it’s impossible because I’ve never actually spoken to him, but I still think I am.
I don’t just want to see the muscles in his arms move as he tries to free himself.
I don’t just want to see the way his thighs stretch the fabric of his pants and I don’t just want to think about what’s underneath.
I also want to see his eyes, how strong and beautiful they look, I want to pretend they’re looking at me and shiver.
I want to see his lips part, but not just for his tongue to come out and wet them, I want him to say my name.
It happens in my dreams. I’ve had many, many dreams about Jaejoong looking at me, really looking at me, and saying my name, just that, just ‘Yoochun,’ while looking at me.
I always wake up in my own come after dreams like that.
Even though I also have less innocent dreams about him, I deduct from that that I don’t just want him to touch me, I want him to want me, for me.
I desire the impossible.
To me, HL stands for Hopeless Love.
The master grabs Jaejoong’s hair and yanks his head back, Jaejoong licks his lips.
In the few months I’ve been here Jaejoong’s show hasn’t changed much. The details have, new outfits, new music, new moves, but the big lines of the ‘story’ are always the same.
It’s when the master is proudly showing his ‘slave’ to the audience with an arrogant grin on his face that Jaejoong manages to free his wrists.
That’s when the music gets faster and louder and the show really starts.
And the reversal of their roles begins.
Jaejoong tries to overpower his ‘master’. We all know who is going to win, but I still hold my breath every time. Today Jaejoong loses his jacket in the struggle, the sleeves of his white shirt barely reach his elbows and I groan at the sight of his naked arms. His muscles strain and his skin glows.
When I finally manage to shift my attention back to the ‘master’ I see that he’s already on his knees and tied up with the ribbon. His black mask is pulled down and gagging him. It’s Yunho again today.
I’m jealous of him, which is weird, because I’ve never felt the desire to be tied up and gagged in front of a bunch of roaring old men before.
Jaejoong smirks down at his new slave and yanks his hair, Yunho’s head snaps back and he winces. Jaejoong now pulls him forward and presses his crotch against his face.
He rolls his hips, on the beat, and closes his eyes, lips parting. I have to bite my own lips against a moan.
Jaejoong gives Yunho a command and no one hears it, but we all see Yunho’s bound hands come up and start to unbuckle Jaejoong’s black pants.
When they fall down and he steps out of them we groan as one as tight dark jeans are revealed. My eyes aren’t the only ones immediately focusing on the bulge in the front.
Jaejoong doesn’t wear the erotic clothing other strippers wear. No brightly colored thongs or netted tank tops, only occasionally leather pants or gloves. He doesn’t look like a strip tease, he looks like pure sex. He doesn’t need accessories to turn people on.
And then he dances, proving that.
It’s like he forgets about his slave for the moment, leaves him bound and gagged and needy, needy because there’s a clear bulge in Yunho’s pants as well.
My own bulge throbs when Jaejoong rips his shirt open, buttons flying, to reveal his perfect abs.
I’ve always wondered if he covers his skin in oil mixed with glitter or if it’s just naturally glowing. The general perfection of his body causes me to see the second as a definite possibility.
He moves to the music, perfectly in sync, and not just his hips or his arms, everything, every single part of his body waves and slides and seduces us.
I never know what to focus on.
The muscles in his legs move in the tight jeans as he bends his knees for powerful thrusts of his hips.
His hands are everywhere, sliding over his thighs, his sides, his stomach, his chest, rubbing the bulge in his pants, messing up his hair.
His face, I could stare at his face forever.
Sometimes his eyes are closed, sometimes they open and pierce through everyone they meet. I like to imagine that he looks at me. He probably doesn’t, but it still sets my skin on fire.
His lips are almost always parted, sometimes his tongue comes out and my knees threaten to buckle.
Sweat makes his hair stick to his face and his skin shines even more.
When he lets his shirt slide down from one of his shoulders and licks his lips again, I have to lean back against the wall for support.
I must look pathetic, but I don’t care, I can’t even think during moments like these. All that my mind can produce is: ‘fuck’. I’m sure that’s what would come out if I’d try to say something.
Jaejoong bends his knees and we all think he’s going to do another hip thrust, but he doesn’t. He lowers himself to the stage until he’s kneeling, legs spread under him, and he palms his erection.
When he lets his head fall back and bucks into his hand, the sounds coming from the audience are louder than the music.
When he rests his weight on his hands and swings his legs off the stage, people start calling him over.
I don’t, but I want to.
He smirks, always in control. He walks pas a few chairs, swaying his hips, minimal movements, in a way that doesn’t make him look like a slut but is incredibly hot.
Finally he stops and bends over, leveling his face with someone. I always wonder if he whispers something into their ear or just blows against it. Sometimes they get incredibly lucky and he picks up one of their hands and puts it on his thigh or stomach, allowing them to feel his muscles for a while, but not today.
Today he trails his fingers down over the man’s arm and then he’s gone again, back up on the stage in one smooth movement.
I’ve seen more than one man come in their pants after a simple teasing touch like that, I know I would.
Jaejoong continues like his dance was never interrupted, but now he starts to open his pants. This is probably one of my favorite moments.
I can’t say that Jaejoong has ever touched me, or that he even knows I exist, but I can say that I’ve seen his cock, almost every other night. It sounds nice when I say it like that: I see Jaejoong hard and practically naked almost every other day.
He pushes the pants down enough to reveal his erection and he strokes it, head falling back, mouth opening and closing. I think it’s the sexiest thing in the world and the moment where strip tease starts to border on sex show.
Jaejoong finally remembers his slave.
Yunho is sweating and fighting his binds and bucking his hips up. His broad muscled chest and the huge bulge in his leather pants don’t make the general image any less sexy, but somehow I only have eyes for Jaejoong.
Jaejoong pulls the mask down more until it’s around Yunho’s neck and he can use it as a collar, Yunho chokes when he yanks on it.
Jaejoong uses that opportunity to shove his erection down Yunho’s throat, gagging him. This is another one of those moments where I long to be Jaejoong’s slave and doubt my sanity for it.
Jaejoong’s hand moves to Yunho’s hair so he can control the movement and fuck his face. They definitely passed the sex show border now.
I think this is a moment where most people would focus on the hard cock disappearing between stretched lips, but I always look at Jaejoong’s face.
Jaejoong throws his head back, mouth open, still managing to seductively lick his lips again. I can see his chest heave with his quick breaths, but other than that he stays in complete control over his body.
Sometimes I wonder what is going on in his head. If he likes doing this, if he and Yunho are the together kind of together.
But soon the lust clouds my mind completely and I just lean back against the wall, trying not to touch myself, trying not to reach orgasm without touching myself, trying.. well, actually, not really trying anything, I can’t think, just feel, lust, want, dreams.
Jaejoong’s glistening cock slips out of Yunho’s mouth. Jaejoong slaps his cheeks with it.
He touches himself some more, dances some more, teases Yunho. I can’t even follow everything, I can just gasp and try to look past the blur in my eyes.
Jaejoong never comes on stage. Yunho does sometimes. I don’t think he’s supposed to, but when he suddenly curls into himself, body shaking, mouth open in a scream, I don’t blame him. Jaejoong just smirks and pulls him backstage.
Jaejoong’s show is always the last one, the climax.
The good thing is that I can go take care of my erection sooner, the bad thing that a bunch of frustrated businessmen see it as they pass me to go drink some more or order a private striptease if they have enough money.
Sometimes they try to grope me, sometimes they succeed. It makes me feel dirty.
If it weren’t for Jaejoong I would have quit this job a long time ago. The pay isn’t that good.
I wonder if Jaejoong ever feels dirty. I don’t want to think about him stripping for someone in a private room. I hope that he’s so expensive no one can afford him.
Even though I try not to, I think about that as I shuffle to the toilets, between mental curses directed at my tight pants.
I feel pathetic. Having to stroke yourself off in toilet cubicle, biting your own hand to muffle your moans, doesn’t boost your confidence much.
I had a boyfriend once. He used me to get close to my younger brother. Just the physical kind of close.
Yes, I was hurt when I found out, but I still find some satisfaction in remembering his expression when I told him that he wasted time and effort and flowers. Some money would have been enough. Yoohwan sells himself.
One day I’ll earn enough money and finally succeed in convincing him to stop.
I try, every day, but what can I say to ‘do you want our family to starve?’
I keep telling myself that, when I find a better job, I’ll leave here.
I don’t know if I can. I hope that I’ll put my brother before my stupid delusional crush on the most beautiful stripper in the world.
I’m almost there. Luckily the toilets are for rich customers and clean. At least I won’t have to stroke myself off in a dirty cubicle.
I don’t know why I’m staring at my crotch, pathetic anticipation? Probably.
Fact is that I don’t pay attention to where I’m going and walk - shuffle actually, which makes it even more stupid - into a body.
I stammer an apology and look up.
I finish my apology and continue to wonder how the hell I was able to.
Maybe because it takes a while to sink in that a big, huge, part of my vision is filled with most beautiful stripper, a much bigger part than during his shows. He’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top.
“Hello, Yoochun,” Jaejoong says, while looking at me.
I slam my open mouth shut and bite my tongue, trying to wake myself up. Not that I really want to.
Probably the only thing that seems real is Jaejoong’s smirk. It’s not the loving smile with just a hint of mischief of my dreams.
But he knows my name. Jaejoong knows my name.
Drunk voices sound from around a corner and Jaejoong suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me with him, through a door that he locks behind him, up a flight of stairs, down another hallway and into a room. He locks this door as well.
I’ve never been here, and I’ve never seen Jaejoong down there outside of his shows.
There’s a bed here, a coffee table, a couch, a TV. I never thought about where Jaejoong lives. Does he live here?
That’s nice but Jaejoong, fucking Jaejoong is standing in the same room. Fuck.
Just... fuck.
Why was I sure this wasn’t a dream again?
I don’t have time to doubt that for long as Jaejoong suddenly steps forward and pushes me into a wall. I feel the impact on my back enough for this to be real.
He presses up against me.
I bite my lip, close my eyes, and tense my muscles. Maybe that’ll lessen the sensations shooting through my entire body everywhere his warmth touches it.
But he’s so close that his breath hits my face.
He rolls his hips, grinding against my erection, and I can’t keep in my ragged moan, can’t keep my body from going slack and falling against his.
When I get my legs to support me and open my eyes, I see his smirk.
He rolls his hips again and seems amused by my reaction. But there’s also coldness in his eyes. Like he’s keeping a distance from me, mentally, like he does this every day and doesn’t really care.
Don’t ask me how I notice details like that in my current state, but I do, and it hurts, stings, somewhere.
“...no...” I mutter, after my next moan.
He doesn’t listen and makes his body slide over my erection in just the right way again.
“No...,” I breathe.
He isn’t kissing me, it’s just... bare lust.
I have dreamed of him kissing me, I have, so often. Up until the point where I feared I was developing a fetish for his lips. Not a lip fetish, a Jaejoong’s lips fetish.
But part of me is glad that he hasn’t realized those dreams so far, because from the way he looks at me now, he might ruin them. Something stings even more painfully at that thought.
“No, plea-” He cuts me off with: “You can stop saying no now, it doesn’t turn me on or anything.”
“No, I... I...” I try to lift my hands to push him away. They’re shaking and unwilling, I can’t reach higher than his stomach. I push anyway, weakly.
He frowns and looks into my eyes. I try not to drown in his.
“I’m not going to rape you, so,” he cups my clothed erection and I feel like I’m about to faint or come or both, “Is this because of me or not?”
I moan and shake when one of his fingers moves.
“Well? Who were you thinking about getting this hard?”
“Y-you,” I finally manage.
“I thought so.” Jaejoong’s hands slide over my arms, I shiver, and they encircle my wrists. He lifts my arms and I let him. Not that I’d really be able to stop him, he’s a lot stronger.
He doesn’t just pin my wrists against the wall above my head like I expect him to, he lifts them higher and higher. He pushes his hips forward again and I’m distracted, but two clicks above me have me cut off my moan.
He releases me and steps back, but I can’t move my arms down. My muscles strain as I try.
He’s got cuffs hanging from his ceiling?
I try to free myself and they dig into my wrists, not metal, but with my entire weight on them like this they’ll surely leave bruises. I can move a bit to the sides, not far from the wall, but I can turn in a full circle. When I do the pull is suddenly stronger though and I have to stand on my toes to relieve my wrists.
I look up and see that I’m hanging on two chains, currently twisted around each other, going over pulleys attached to the ceiling close to the wall.
I hear chuckling. Jaejoong has followed my entire struggle with crossed arms and a smirk on his face, I turn my wide desperate eyes to him.
“Why do you look surprised? I thought you knew by now that I love to tease.”
I know. I’ve.. I’ve fantasized about him tying me up. And I’m still so so hard. But this is so... sudden, unexpected? Half an hour ago I was telling myself I was crazy for desiring kinky sex, something I’ve never been into, never actually thought about before I started working here.
And now I’m in the middle of it.
I try to twist myself free again, at least turn back so I’m not pulled up as high. Jaejoong stops me by shoving his hand past the waistband of my pants and holding me by my cock.
I throb and twitch in the warmth of his tight grip. His fingers feel wet against my heated skin, although it’s probably the other way around. My knees buckle and my throaty moan turns into a cry when the muscles in my arms are stretched too far.
Okay, so we’ve established that stuff like this does indeed turn me on. And it’s Jaejoong, fucking Jaejoong doing this to me. I think I’m going to have to repeat that at least a thousand more times before I can even start to believe it.
So why do I feel uneasy? Why am I not the willing obedient slave I imagine he’d like me to be? I thought I’d be prepared to play any role to please him.
It doesn’t matter what I think though, rational thoughts don’t last at all with my body screaming for more like this.
Jaejoong skillfully opens my pants and yanks them down, along with my boxers. I whine as my leaking cock springs free and is suddenly surrounded by cool air.
When he’s got me naked from the waist down he rips open my shirt. It was an expensive shirt and I had to pay for it myself when I started working here. He twists one of my nipples and I forget. My cock twitches again.
Jaejoong tsks and walks away.
“W-wait” What if he leaves me here like this?
If I weren’t panting as much I’d sigh in relief when he’s back almost immediately. I try to turn and buck into his hand when it brushes over my hip, ignoring the burn in my arms.
Something cold and tight suddenly squeezes the base of my erection, the pressure so agonizing I scream. Jaejoong’s thumb presses into my slit and rubs a harsh circle around it next, I scream louder.
“No coming yet,” he says. “And you already got a striptease tonight, so...” He hooks his thumbs behind the waistband of his sweats.
My vision blurs, my wrists and arms hurt and it’s turning me on. I can’t come and that’s turning me on even more. Jaejoong reveals his hard cock, for me, just me, no audience, and I’ve never been turned on this much in my life.
I figure I can think about if I really want this later, because fuck, it feels like I want it.
Jaejoong steps to the side and fumbles with something, I hear chains clinking, and suddenly I fall. My legs weren’t prepared for the sudden lack of pull on my ams and I land painfully hard on my knees. My arms are still lifted above my head and there’s no more give when I pull.
“Sorry,” Jaejoong says. I don’t think he’s very sorry as he suddenly grabs my chin, forces my mouth open and pushes his cock down my throat.
I gag at the first and second thrust and then I get used to it, sort of. Breathing becomes a challenge.
But it’s Jaejoong’s cock stretching my lips and rubbing against the roof of my mouth before sliding deeper. A sudden gush of precome has me gagging again, but moaning as well. He moans too, soft, not uncontrolled like me.
When my nose touches his stomach and his hands fist my hair, the ache in my knees is completely forgotten. I try to swallow, tighten my throat around him, move my tongue as much as I can.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and he pulls out, I whine for more. I pull on my restraints and hope he’ll slap my cheeks like he did with Yunho as a punishment.
He doesn’t, but he moves away again and suddenly I’m hoisted back up on my feet in two fast pulls on the chains. I cry out at the stretch.
When nothing happens, nothing other than the now usual fire raging inside of me with its agonizing flames of pleasure and pain, I realize that my eyes are closed and I open them.
Jaejoong is standing in front of me, looking at me, just looking. I manage to open my fluttering eyes a bit further.
He’s gorgeous, perfect. His face is even more beautiful, hotter, from up close. His eyes pierce through me, his hair is messy, sweat shines on his skin. He parts his lips and I want him to lick them.
“Aren’t you going to beg?”
I moan at how erotic his voice sounds. The words barely register. Have I ever heard his voice before, his actual voice? Of course I have during the past ten minutes, but I was distracted. Somehow the impermeable fog in my mind now suddenly causes my senses to sharpen. Or maybe that’s just the insane waves of need crashing over me with every little movement I make.
“The others always beg me to fuck them at this point. Have you lost your tongue?”
I have to think for ages before those sentences make sense to me and then suddenly something stands out.
“o-hng” I bite my lip against a moan when some more precome streams down my shaft and try again. “o-others?”
Jaejoong snorts. “How did you think I get off after every show? Yunho is a boring greedy slut, Junsu talks crap about staying true to his boyfriend and I get tired of the others. New guys are fun, but it was taking you awfully long to come on to me. So do you want me to fuck you or not?”
I get a feeling I should be hurt by this, or at least care. Maybe later. The last sentence seems the most important right now. I do want him to fuck me, I want..
“I-I wa-AH!” I cry out when he presses a finger against the head of my cock and plays with strings of precome.
“Yes?”
“I w-want you!”
“You want me what?”
I try to open my eyes to look at him again, when did they close? He’s smiling, radiating power and control. I want to beg, but the sight of him takes my breath away.
He steps closer. “Tell me.”
“Fuck, I want y-you to f-fuck, please fuck me!”
I don’t get time to wonder if I actually just said that, because he grabs my hips an turns me around, pressing me against the wall, my cock smashed against my stomach.
He grabs my ass and spreads it, massaging the cheeks. I want to beg more but no words come out.
Something cool and slick is on his fingers when they slide through my crack, I buck back into them, he spanks me and my body shakes.
One, two fingers, I don’t know, push into me. I clench around them, my scream loud against the wall.
The fingers are gone and something big, huge, presses against my entrance now.
I’m stretched open impossibly wide already by what I know can’t be more than just the head of his cock. My own cock is squeezed between my stomach and the wall. My balls heavy and sensitive.
He pushes in, forcing me open, but not violently. He pauses, pulls out, and tries for more. I still scream, scream until I’m hoarse and then more.
When his hips touch my ass, he pulls back out and then starts thrusting for real, I’m not sure if I’m happy that he’s aiming for my prostate. Too much, too much pleasure.
I don’t know if I black out. I might have, because the cock ring is suddenly gone and I don’t know where it went.
Jaejoong pulls my hips away from the wall, fingers digging into my skin, and pounds into me at an incredible speed, not shallow anymore.
This is the point where I finally stop screaming. I don’t really, but no more sound comes out. A small strangled gasp and my mouth stays wide open, eyes squeezed shut, as ribbons of come spurt from my cock, probably landing on the wall, the floor and our skin as Jaejoong’s erratic thrusts cause my cock to swing around, slapping against my stomach and thighs.
I know he came as well when I come to on the floor to the feeling of come dripping out of my ass.
It takes me three tries to sit up, my arms are too weak to support me. I lean against the wall.
Something soft lands on my legs, my boxers and pants. “Put those back on,” Jaejoong’s voice sounds from above me.
I manage to lift my head enough to look up at him. He’s wearing his sweats again and looking down at me, waiting.
I was right. This was just a fuck. Just something to get rid of his erection because he’s too popular to have to use his own hand.
He probably knew my name from Junsu and now I’ve moved from the list of new-guys-Jaejoong-hasn’t-fucked-yet to the list of Jaejoong’s toys. I think I was the last person on the first one.
I know I shouldn’t have expected more. What did I even expect? I don’t know.
I think I’m crying. Sweat sticks to my body, but my face wasn’t this wet, was it? With shaking hands I try to put on my boxers. Jaejoong makes an irritated sound, sinks to the floor and does it for me, rough movements. He probably wants me somewhat decent and out of his room as soon as possible.
A sob rises in my throat. Yes, I’m definitely crying. When was the last time I cried? This is ridiculous, I’m practically an adult.
Jaejoong’s fingers suddenly touch my chin and he lifts it. “Why are you crying?”
Great, now he thinks I’m a pathetic crybaby. I vow to never dream of perfect sex with hot strippers again, it does not end happily, I’d better be prepared from now on.
“Wasn’t this what you wanted?”
I lock eyes with him. No, actually it wasn’t. Or maybe it was. I wanted him to look at me, to touch me, why am I even complaining?
That last bit sounds sarcastic in my head. I’m just.. I hurt.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” He says it like that would be inconvenient at worst. I bite my lip against a new sob. Yes he did, but not in the way he means. It’s my own fault though, I hurt myself.
He frowns. It’s the first sign that he might actually care a little bit.
I gasp when his arms slide around my shoulders and under my knees and he lifts me and carries me to the couch.
“You tell me what’s wrong now because I don’t need some crap about me raping you later.”
“I w-won’t. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay, but that’s not what I mean, I want to know why you’re crying like a little boy after I obviously gave you the orgasm of your life.”
I wince at the little boy part, he notices.
“Wait, how old are you?” He looks me over, like he hasn’t before.
“Se- ...almost eighteen.” I wonder why I can’t lie to him. This could cost me my job. I should just have said twenty.
His eyes widen and there’s a short silence before he curses. “I thought you were at least two years older than that.”
I look away, hoping he won’t ask-
“How are you even working here?”
“I need the money,” I reply. “And it’s a crappy job, even if I get to watch free shows, if they catch me watching them I’m fired. I guess no one else wanted it.” I go for a forced chuckle. Why do I want to prolong this conversation? Why do I still want to be with him?
“But you watch me right? You want me? God, I’ve never had to ask those questions before. Why are you acting like I hurt you? You confuse me. Everybody is happy after they got a taste of my body, everybody, even ones that usually top.”
I’m about to reply when his face darkens again.
“You’re trying to win my sympathy, hoping I’ll do you again someday?” He let’s out a cold chuckle. “No one has ever tried that one before.”
He grabs one of my sore arms, his grip tight, and drags me to his door. He unlocks it, opens it and pushes me through. “Fuck you, don’t come back begging for more. I might ask you when I’m bored, but don’t count on it.”
The door slams shut in my face.
The sting is back, in multiple places, concentrating in my chest. He thinks I’d... I have to say something, anything. Why did I act like he hurt me?
“It’s because I’m greedy,” I say to the door, he probably doesn’t even hear. “I’m worse than all those others who want you to fuck them again. I wanted more than that.”
This is not helping, but it’s the truth.
“I’m sorry.”
I turn around and try to remember how we got here.
This has been the most climactic anticlimactic night of my life, and as my ass burns and my arms are sore but I still smile at the thought that it was Jaejoong who did this to me, I know that I need to get away from here. Not just this hallway; this place, this job.
If I stay I’ll go crazy.
When I finally find my way back into the hallway downstairs, I go to the toilets first.
I didn’t have to stroke off today. I didn’t even have someone else fuck me and only came to thoughts of Jaejoong. It was Jaejoong fucking me.
It’s his come that’s still dripping from my ass and that I’m trying to clean up now. It’s his fingers that left bruises on my hips and his cuffs that left darker bruises on my wrists.
I want to take a shower and pretend this never happened and I want to never wash my body again and relive this experience over and over again in my head while stroking my cock and fingering my ass.
As I said, I’m going crazy.
I press my forehead against the cool surface of a mirror and wait until it’s cold and then until the mirror is warm.
I walk back into the hallway, ready to flip off anyone who tells me to go do whatever chores and just go home. I hear footsteps behind me and speed up.
“Yoochun?”
At Junsu’s voice I stop and turn around. I bow and stammer a greeting.
He’s frowning, was I limping? I tried not to. I cross my arms in an attempt to hide my wrists and try to look casual.
Junsu is nice to me.
I’ve seen him reduce a police uniform to just a cap and a baton, multiple times, but I respect him.
A young man in a suit is leaning on him, or rather draped over him, as he’s a lot taller. He looks pretty drunk to me.
I’m sure about that when he slowly lifts his head and it takes his eyes more than a moment to focus on me.
“Whoyou?” he slurs.
Junsu is busy keeping a heavy arm from sliding off his shoulder so I just reply.
“I’m Yoochun.”
“Oochun!” His sudden exclamation makes me jump, he uses the tone of a parent talking to a child that’s done something wrong. “Sussu,” he keeps looking at me and hits Junsu’s shoulder as a means of pointing at him,“ ‘s mine. I’m his number one fan.” That last bit was surprisingly lucid.
Junsu shakes his head at me, but while smiling, and says: “Yes Min-ah, I am, and you are. I’ll take you home in a minute.”
“To bed?” the man ask hopefully, but right after his head falls back onto Junsu’s shoulder and if he isn’t asleep he’s at least very close to it.
“Changmin gets a bit possessive,” Junsu says to me and he sighs. “He doesn’t like my job.”
I nod in understanding.
“But I promised him I’ll quit when he takes over his father’s company.” Junsu smiles. “I won’t mind stripping just for him.”
Changmin makes a noise against his shoulder. It sounds approving, but maybe it’s just a coincidence, I doubt he’s able to follow our conversation.
In the spur of the moment I decide to tell Junsu about my decision.
I know he clearly has his own problems right now, but I feel that if I just walk out of here and no one will know - and I know they won’t miss me - then it’ll feel like I was never there.
I don’t think that I’ll ever forget Jaejoong and what he did to me. And I don’t even know if it will be a good or a bad memory.
Somehow it would be reassuring to be able to at least pretend I’ve had an influence on his life as well.
I don’t actually believe that Jaejoong would care about Junsu missing me, but it’s really all I have.
That is, if Junsu would miss me. And if I’m right about them being so close that he’d actually mention it to Jaejoong... Yeah, probably not.
“I’m about to quit as well,” I blurt out before I can change my mind and before Junsu starts dragging his drunk boyfriend outside.
He focuses on me again. “Really? Why?” He actually sounds a bit sad, warmth fills me. I’ve never had many friends.
“I.. need more money than I earn here.” I think about Yoohwan and decide that it’s not a lie, I’m just leaving out part of the truth.
Junsu frowns and the warmth in my chest begins to burn. I don’t need another reason to stay. It’s already hard enough fighting the temptation that Jaejoong still is.
But now I feel like I’d miss Junsu.
“That sucks. I’ll miss you.”
‘No, no, no’, I have to tell myself. Junsu isn’t going to be here forever either. ...okay, that’s a good reason. My resolve to stand by my decision survives.
“You’re nice Yoochun”, Junsu continues, “you always look at my face when we talk like this.”
I blink. Other’s don’t?
“I don’t know where you look when I’m on stage, because it’s too dark to see you. But I don’t blame you if you look somewhere else then.” Junsu laughs.
I don’t tell him that I often catch myself looking at his ass and that I think his hip thrusts rival Jaejoong’s. I just nod and lower my eyes.
“Well, it can’t be helped, right?” He pulls Changmin’s arm over his shoulder, making sure it doesn’t slide off. “I have to take Minnie home now. Will I still see you around for a proper goodbye?”
I think for a moment. I have to find another job before I leave, it would be bad if I don’t. I nod.
“I’ll probably be around for another week or so.” I can only hope that I’ve found a new job by then.
“Good.” Junsu smiles at me. “Come on, Min.”
I stare at their backs as they stumble down the hallway until they disappear behind a corner.
I wish I had a boyfriend like that. Not necessarily a drunk one, but one who cares if I stay true or not and one who takes care of me when I’m drunk.
He doesn’t have to be as beautiful and confident and strong as Jaejoong, but... oh who am I kidding? I still want Jaejoong. He treated me like just another hole and I still have feelings for him.
I need to get out of here.
Two days later my body has more or less recovered. I’d planned to actually watch the audience during Jaejoong’s show today, but I can’t.
If possible, I get even harder now that I know what he feels like, sounds like, how kinky he really is offstage as well.
And I still look at his face. I still want his eyes to see me.
If reality wanted to crush my dreams it should have done it good. I think it tried, but I’m just too stubborn. My impossible desire is still there.
No, it’s not just impossible anymore, it’s downright ridiculous.
But other than that not much has changed.
Every time Jaejoong rolls his hips, I have to fight back a moan.
Part 2