Surrender

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/3738589.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)
Relationship: Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P./Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon
Character: Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon, Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P.
Additional Tags: GTOP, Canon, BDSM, Subspace
Series: Part 1 of Surrender
Stats: Published: 2015-04-13 Words: 16058

Surrender
by Ruinwyn

Summary

“I wish my boyfriend was as dirty as your policies.” Seunghyun attempts to fulfill that wish.

Notes

For Mina who desperately wanted subspace Jiyong. Other people get their friends normal
presents, but I just write mine smut.

Warnings: BDSM. Dom/sub dynamic, Domspace, subspace, finger/penis double

penetration, throat fucking, intense spanking, overstimulation, mild bondage, glove fetish
(sort of). I think that covers it. But it’s actually fairly gentle, all things considered.

All Seunghyun can feel is hot and wet and tight, and it’s all he can do to keep his strokes careful
and slow. Jiyong gasps beneath him, pulling at his hips, urging him on, but Seunghyun buries his
face in the crook of his neck and forces himself not to give in.

“Come on, Hyung,” Jiyong grunts. “Harder.”

But Seunghyun just presses a kiss to Jiyong’s throat and keeps his current pace, even and steady,
constant enough to bring in pleasure, gentle enough to ward off pain. He fits his hand between
them and pumps at Jiyong’s cock until he finally pumps his orgasm out of him.

He has to be careful with this, always, because Jiyong cares far more about Seunghyun’s pleasure
than he does his own, even if that pleasure brings him pain. He remembers the first time they did
this, the first time Seunghyun ever did this, back when he bumbled his way inside of Jiyong and
came way too soon, and the only thing Jiyong got out of it was pain and a little more pain.

Only Jiyong never said anything until way after, about how it was uncomfortable, how it hurt.
He’d just kept acting like he liked it, like he couldn’t get enough, and it took a while for
Seunghyun to figure that out. He’d asked him about it then, wanted to know why Jiyong didn’t
just say something, but Jiyong had clammed up, and the only thing he’d say was that he wanted it
to be good for Seunghyun.

So now Seunghyun pays special care. He takes his time with Jiyong, always makes sure Jiyong
comes first. He’s patient and gentle and as selfless as he can stand to be when the object of his
fantasies is wrapped around his cock.

Seunghyun rolls off Jiyong once he’s spent, and for a long time, the only thing that exists is the
sound of their staccato breaths punching holes in the silence.

“You don’t have to go so easy on me,” Jiyong finally says. “I can take it.”

Seunghyun doesn’t respond to that. He just presses his lips to Jiyong’s sweat-dampened hair and
then rolls out of the bed and heads to the shower.

He and Jiyong are out having dinner at this little barbeque place with Seungho and Chaerin;
Seungho because he has nothing better to do than act as Jiyong’s one man entourage and Chaerin
because she just likes to invite herself along. Seunghyun doesn’t really mind. He and Seungho
have been friends for ages, and Chaerin and Jiyong are close, so whatever.

Seungho’s in the middle of some wild story about his latest sexual encounter, something about a
feather duster, rimming, and too much weed, when Chaerin cackles and shushes him. “Easy there.
You’re going to scar Seunghyun. He’s too innocent for stuff like this.”

Seunghyun chuckles at first – it’s practically his tagline, calling himself innocent and delicate – but
then Seungho breaks out laughing. “I know, right? I figured being with Jiyong would’ve
corrupted him by now, but I guess not.”

Seunghyun’s starting to feel a little out of the loop, like there’s some latent conversation that’s
happening under his nose. He looks over at Jiyong to have someone to commiserate with, but
Jiyong’s wearing this little smile that lets him know that he’s in on whatever the joke is, too.

Chaerin’s grin is sharp and precise, but she aims it with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. “I bet
it’s all missionary, all the time. Huh, Jiyong?”

What? Seunghyun looks back over at Jiyong, hoping he’ll shed some light onto things, but
Jiyong’s just shaking his head. “You guys are idiots,” he says. “I just liked the quote, that’s all. It
was funny.”

“What quote?” Seunghyun asks.

Jiyong picks his phone up from the table and pulls up this picture of a square red sign with a bunch
of English words written on it. Seunghyun tries to piece together what it says, but his language
skills aren’t quite up to the challenge, so Jiyong translates it for him. “I wish my boyfriend was as
dirty as your policies.”

Chaerin giggles at him. “Who would’ve thought the bad T-O-P would be so vanilla?”

It hits him wrong, somehow, but they’re in the middle of dinner, and now isn’t really the time to
get into it. Besides, Seunghyun spent the whole first half of his life being the butt of everyone’s
jokes so he knows how to diffuse mockery. He smiles real wide and covers his ears and tells them,
“We have to talk about something else. I’m too pure for this.”

He’s relieved when everyone laughs and changes the subject, and he tries hard to change with it, to
leave behind this horrible churning in his gut, but it stays with him the rest of the evening.

When he and Jiyong get back to his villa that night, Jiyong pulls him into a deep, hungry kiss the
moment the door is shut, but Seunghyun’s too distracted to get into it. His mind’s still on the
conversation from dinner. He’s feeling embarrassed and put out, and the last thing he wants to do
is open himself back up to ridicule.

Realizing that something’s wrong, Jiyong pulls back, “Everything okay?”

Seunghyun wants to nod his head, tell him everything’s fine, but he can’t bring himself to do it just
now. Instead, he shrugs Jiyong off and heads into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine.
Jiyong follows after him, a questioning look in his eyes, one Seunghyun doesn’t feel any
inclination to answer.

“What’s wrong?” Jiyong asks.

Seunghyun shrugs, sipping at his wine. “Just tired.”

Jiyong seems to accept that. “That’s okay,” he says, a lascivious smirk curling about his face. “I
don’t mind doing all the work tonight.” His hands start tugging at Seunghyun’s belt, voice going
low and sweet. “We can go to bed, and I can give you a massage, and I can spend the rest of the
night riding you…”

Jiyong gets one hand tucked down the front of his underwear, rubbing at his half-hard cock. And
it would feel so good, to give in, to forget all about this, but Seunghyun just can’t. “Are you sure?
That might not be vanilla enough for me.”

Jiyong’s hand goes still around Seunghyun’s cock. He sighs. “Don’t pay attention to them. They
were just teasing.”

Seunghyun wraps his hand around Jiyong’s wrist and eases his hand back out of his pants. “They
wouldn’t have been teasing if you hadn’t posted that thing.”

Jiyong looks up at him like he just can’t believe Seunghyun is making a big deal about this. “I
didn’t post it. I just liked it. It was funny.”

Yeah, hilarious. “You basically just announced to the whole world that I’m boring in bed.”

Jiyong’s jaw drops, and it hangs there while Seunghyun takes another sip of his wine. “I did not.
No one even knows you’re my boyfriend so no one’s going to connect it to you.”

Seunghyun scoffs. “Except Chaerin. And Seungho. And all the rest of our friends and half the
people we work with.” He sets his wineglass down on the counter and strides out of the room. He
doesn’t want to be here anymore, anyway.

He’s sitting on his bed, nursing his ego, when Jiyong finally comes to find him. Jiyong lowers
himself down beside him and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking. I
didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Seunghyun wishes it were that easy. But here’s the thing: he’s less concerned about Jiyong
posting something like that and more concerned about the sentiment behind it. Jiyong keeps
saying that it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just a funny saying, but one thing Seunghyun’s
learned over the years is that Jiyong is transparent; he doesn’t know how to hide his emotions.
They’re written across his face, in his lyrics, in the clothes he wears. Everything he does,
everything he says, has a kernel of truth to it.

Including this, Seunghyun thinks.

“Am I not good?” It’s the most humiliating thing in the world, asking that, but he has to know. He
thought everything was fine, that their sex life was fine, but obviously he was wrong.

“What? Of course you are.” Jiyong wraps his hand around Seunghyun’s knee and gives it a gentle
squeeze, a soft laugh fluttering into the space between them. “I wouldn’t have put up with you this
long if you sucked.”

Except that really doesn’t comfort Seunghyun at all. Because he remembers how Jiyong did put up
with him when they first started having sex. Seunghyun had to drag that information out of him,
too. But he also knows that Jiyong isn’t exactly lying right now; it’s not like he’s been faking
orgasms.

“But you want something else. Something I’m not giving you.”

Jiyong hesitates, and that’s enough for Seunghyun to know that there is something, that there’s
more to this whole thing than just a funny quote Jiyong liked at random. When Seunghyun’s eyes
shutter, Jiyong huffs in frustration. “God, Hyung, it’s not a big deal. It’s just…fantasies.
Everyone has them. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Like what?” The words come out sulky, even to Seunghyun’s ears.

“What?”

Seunghyun licks his lips and repeats himself. “What fantasies?”

“I don’t know. Just…stuff.” Jiyong’s eyes are trained firmly on his lap, like he’s the one who’s
embarrassed, now.

Seunghyun just wishes they could talk about this stuff; he wishes Jiyong would be more open with
him about it. “If you don’t know, then how am I supposed to know?”

Jiyong stares down at his lap so long that Seunghyun nearly gives up, but then he swallows and
takes in a slow, deep breath. “I don’t want you to know. I’m afraid you’ll be weird about it.”

Seunghyun feels even more sullen at that. That Jiyong doesn’t even want to tell him. But then he
sees the tense line of Jiyong’s body, the slight hunch of his shoulders, and realizes that Jiyong’s
embarrassed. Vulnerable. The realization takes over and cancels out everything else. His surliness
melts away until all that’s left is curiosity and warm, supportive fondness.
Only Jiyong’s said all he’s going to say on his own. If Seunghyun wants to know more, he’s going
to have to coax it out of him. “You wore lingerie for me. I don’t think it’ll kill me to try
something new for you.”

A giggle breaks past Jiyong’s lips. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and then closes it back shut.
But Seunghyun’s nothing if not patient with Jiyong. He can wait him out.

Jiyong’s voice is shy when he finally speaks up. “Maybe you could…tie me up? Or…get a little
rough?”

He’s not quite sure what Jiyong’s asking for here. “How rough are we talking?”

Jiyong doesn’t meet his eyes. “Rough enough to need a safeword?”

Seunghyun’s brows fly up, and Jiyong automatically starts backtracking. “Or not. It was just an
idea. We don’t have to.”

“No,” Seunghyun cuts in before Jiyong can retreat too far. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know
you were into that kind of stuff.”

Jiyong just shrugs.

He mentally sighs. It’s not that he’s necessarily against this. He wants to give Jiyong whatever he
wants. Every time they have sex, Seunghyun always makes sure Jiyong gets off first; he tries to
make it as good for him as he can. He’s just worried. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jiyong cracks a humorless grin. “That’s why there’s a safeword.”

“But will you use it?”

“Like I’ll ever need to. You’re always so careful with me.” The words come out bitter, like acid,
like something Seunghyun needs to defend himself against.

“I have to be careful,” he argues. “Remember the first time we did it? And the time after that? I
was a stupid kid back then, and I didn’t know the first thing about fucking a man, and I hurt you.
And you just let me. I could’ve made it better for you if you would’ve just told me, but—”

“I didn’t know any better then,” Jiyong cuts him off. “I thought it was supposed to hurt. It always
did before. And it wasn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be. It’s not like I was in agony
or anything. It just…didn’t feel that great.”

Seunghyun shoves one hand through his hair. “Is this you trying to reassure me?”

“I’m trying to explain. It was fairly new to me back then, too. I wasn’t that experienced with it,
either. But we fuck all the time now, and it never hurts. It never feels uncomfortable. It just feels
good. Really, really good. I just…I want more.”

Seunghyun lets that sit with him, lets it fill him up and rewrite all his previous notions about what
Jiyong wants and what he needs.

Then Jiyong’s mouth twists back up, and that same bitterness from earlier is back. “I try to tell
myself that the reason you’re so gentle with me is because you care about me. And it’s not that I
don’t ever want you to be gentle. It’s just…I don’t like how easy it is for you. To control
yourself. To keep your cool.” Jiyong turns beseeching eyes on him, then. “I want you to be as
crazy about me as I am about you. I want you to be so into me that you can’t control yourself.”
It looks like there’s more Jiyong wants to say, but he stops there. It’s enough, though. Seunghyun
gets it now, gets where all the bitterness is coming from. Jiyong’s insecurity. He thinks
Seunghyun’s control, his ability to hold back, signifies a lack of desire.

“I am crazy about you. You have no idea.”

Jiyong nods, but he doesn’t look very convinced.

Okay. If this is really what Jiyong wants, if this is what Seunghyun needs to do to reassure him, to
please him, then he’ll do it.

“Okay,” Seunghyun says, cracking a grin. “What do you think we should use as a safeword? I’m
partial to Hyunsuk.”

Jiyong doesn’t look very impressed with the idea, though. “There’s no way I’m yelling out the
president’s name while you’re fucking me.”

Seunghyun laughs. “But you have to admit, it definitely would’ve killed the mood.”

Jiyong shows him the kinds of things he wants to try after that. He pulls up all these pictures he
has saved on his phone, as well as a couple video clips, and he ends with showing him this website
he has bookmarked that’s full of dark and leather and bondage, with words like Dominant and
submissive written all over the screen. Seunghyun tries to soak it all in without passing any
judgment. This is obviously something Jiyong’s been thinking about for a while to have all this
stuff accumulated.

Seunghyun shoots him an amused look. “Leave it to you to be into the kinky shit.” Jiyong shoves
at his shoulder, but he’s smiling as he does it, so Seunghyun figures they’re back on even ground.
“I’m a little surprised, though. Not that you like this stuff. That makes perfect sense,” he teases.

Jiyong’s face scrunches up in this adorable little smile. “Shut up.”

“I just would’ve figured you’d want to be in charge. You always like bossing everyone else
around.” Only now that Seunghyun’s said it, he’s not so sure that’s what he thinks, after all.
Jiyong’s never been known to tell Seunghyun what to do. Everyone else, sure. But not
Seunghyun, not really. Jiyong’s bossy, for sure, but any time Seunghyun lets on that there’s
something he wants instead, Jiyong’s always quick to cater to him. Maybe he’s just as eager to
please Seunghyun as Seunghyun is to please him.

So here’s the thing: as much as Seunghyun wants to do this for Jiyong, he doesn’t know the first
thing about being a Dom. But here’s what he does know: if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do
it right. He’s going to commit. So he approaches it the same way he would any other role. He
researches.

He reads everything he can find online, watches a fuck load of porn, and studies as best as he can.
And then he starts preparations. He orders all kinds of stuff online and has it shipped discreetly to
his house, and then he starts practicing; he wants his hands to be sure with anything he thinks to
use.

He’s meticulous in his preparations. He writes scenes for them to act out in his head, imagines
how they could go, thinks about what would turn Jiyong on the most. It’s almost like writing a
song, arranging the chords, finding the melody, filling it in with lyrics. He takes the same care in
both processes, a perfectionist at heart.

He sees Jiyong in the interim, but his boyfriend doesn’t bring the topic back up, doesn’t push for
things Seunghyun might not be ready for. It was hard enough for Jiyong to ask for it the first time;
he won’t ask again.

But once Seunghyun is ready, he pays special attention to presentation. One thing being an idol
has taught him is the importance of staging and costuming. He dims the lights, changes his
bedding to black, and sprays a hint of the cologne Jiyong bought him for Christmas on the
pillows. It’s not exactly a pleasure dungeon, but Seunghyun doesn’t have anything hardcore
planned for their first attempt so it’ll do. He wants to ease into this rather than belly flop.

He looks at all the leather hanging in his closet, a myriad of costumes he’s worn on stage, but he
feels weird about wearing any of it right now. It feels like too much. Like he’s trying too hard.
Seunghyun knows how powerful clothes can be, how they can create confidence where there
wasn’t any before, but the clothing Seunghyun feels the most confident in nowadays is a well-
tailored suit, so he forgoes the leather and dresses himself in a black dress shirt and his favorite pair
of black slacks. On a whim, he pulls on a pair of fitted black gloves, leather so thin and supple it
feels like they’re barely there at all.

And then he reaches for the toy they’ll be using tonight. Nothing extreme, this first time is just a
taste, a hint of flavor on the tongue to see if they’re up for a bigger bite. His grip tightens around
the long, slender rod. It has a braided leather handle on one end and a thicker loop of leather on the
other. Seunghyun looked at a lot of different things when he was shopping, whips and paddles of
various sorts, but he liked the sleek look of the riding crop the best.

Jiyong should be on his way over by now so Seunghyun leaves him a note on the coffee table
where he’ll be sure to see it and then hides away in one of the spare rooms.

The note says: Go to the bedroom and remove all your clothes. Kneel on the floor and wait for
me there. The safeword is Iris.

He chooses the word because it’s a sure way to make him cringe and deflate instantly, but not quite
as scarring as their boss’s name would be or as comical as some of the other shit Seunghyun had
considered.

And now all there is to do is wait.

But that’s easier said than done once he hears Jiyong arrive. He’s a nervous pillar of energy as he
waits, as he gives Jiyong time to read the note and follow its instructions. He wonders what
Jiyong’s thinking right now. Is he surprised? Is he just as nervous as Seunghyun is? They haven’t
talked about this in a while so Jiyong had no idea this was on the menu tonight.

Once he thinks Jiyong’s had enough time, to undress, to kneel, to anticipate, Seunghyun takes in a
deep breath and then exhales all his worry and nervousness. It’s just like going out on stage, he
tells himself. He pulls all his confidence around him like a second skin and finally leaves his post.

On the way to his bedroom, he makes sure his character is firmly in place, shoulders back, body
drawn up to his full height, face angled to make the most of the cut of his jaw and cheekbones.
And then he opens his bedroom door.

Jiyong’s kneeling in the center of the open expanse of his room, hands braced on his knees,
completely bare except for the little silver cross dangling from his left ear, cock soft and nestled
between his thighs.

“Wow,” Jiyong breathes, eyes scanning him from head to toe and back up again. “You look so
good.”

Seunghyun fights the smug smile that threatens to overtake his face. Instead, he narrows his eyes
and slowly erases the distance between them. His gloved hand tightens on the handle of the crop
as he closes in, the leather creaking around his knuckles.

Jiyong’s attention finally falls to the object in his hands, but he still looks far too at ease, and that
just won’t do. Seunghyun flicks out the crop and lands a smart blow against his dresser, and
Jiyong jumps at the loud crack it makes, surprised eyes darting up to where Seunghyun’s now
looming over him.

Seunghyun keeps his gaze heavy on Jiyong, jaw sharp, eyes intense. He presses the leather tip of
the crop to the center of Jiyong’s navel and then slowly trails it up, between the Xs inked into his
skin and up the line of his sternum. The tip caresses its way up Jiyong’s throat and settles just
under his chin.

Seunghyun applies just enough pressure to force Jiyong’s chin up. “These are the rules,” he says,
voice smoky and dark. “You don’t speak unless I tell you to. And you do exactly as I say. Break
either of these rules, and there will be consequences.” He digs the crop into the soft underside of
Jiyong’s chin. “Understood?”

Jiyong swallows, throat bobbing against the crop. Slowly, he nods.

Seunghyun relaxes his grip then, slides the leather tip back down the bared column of Jiyong’s
throat before letting it rest back at his side. Jiyong stares up at him, small and vulnerable, eyes full
of anticipation. He looks so fucking hot that Seunghyun has to check himself, remind himself that
he does, in fact, have a plan for how this is supposed to play out, a plan that’s a little more
involved than just throwing out the scene and ravishing Jiyong on the floor.

But fuck. He just looks so tempting.

When Jiyong’s lips part, Seunghyun zeroes in on the movement. His mouth is so fucking pretty.
Seunghyun reaches out and drags the gloved tip of his finger over Jiyong’s plump bottom lip.
“Suck,” he orders.

Jiyong flicks his tongue out and licks at his finger, then slides it into his mouth. When he
withdraws, he drags his teeth along the length of it, lips coy and sultry and meant to seduce. The
leather is thin enough that Seunghyun can feel the scrape of Jiyong’s teeth as if there’s no a barrier
at all.

Jiyong looks so sexy, teasing at his finger. Such a pity.

Seunghyun lifts the crop and sends a stinging slap to the curve of Jiyong’s bicep. Jiyong flinches,
more shocked than anything, and Seunghyun gives him a dark, stern look. “I told you to suck.”

Warily, Jiyong sets out to correct his mistake. He slides his mouth over Seunghyun’s entire finger
and starts suckling at it eagerly, the digit working between his pursed lips. Seunghyun looks down
at him through narrowed slits. “Let me hear how much you’re enjoying it.”
Jiyong closes his eyes and moans, deep and guttural, keeps moaning as he sucks Seunghyun’s
gloved finger in and out of his mouth. That’s more like it.

Seunghyun lifts the crop and tucks it under his arm so he can free up his hand. Jiyong tenses when
the crop first moves, but Seunghyun is quick to sooth him with a pet to his hair; it’s not Jiyong’s
fear that he’s after. “Good,” he praises. “You’re being so good.” Teaches him that reward
happens when he follows the rules. Punishment only comes when he breaks them. It makes
Jiyong suck at his finger even harder.

“Enough,” Seunghyun whispers, and Jiyong comes to an immediate stop. Good. He’s learning.
“Stand up.”

Slowly, Jiyong pulls himself up off his knees. He stretches each leg a little, easing the discomfort
from having kneeled so long, and Seunghyun just can’t tear his eyes away. Jiyong’s body is lean
and compact, and Seunghyun wants it under his hands as soon as possible. He swallows heavily.
“Get on the bed.”

Jiyong does what he says, immediately crawling up onto the mattress, but then he goes still. He
waits like that, on all fours, ass up in the air, until Seunghyun tells him, “Lie down on your back.”
Jiyong does that, too, stretching out on his back, cock now fully hard, and Seunghyun marvels at it,
that all it took to make it that way was a couple commands and the sound of his voice.

Seunghyun circles to the other side of the bed, hands unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, one at a
time, rolling them up his forearms. He guides each of Jiyong’s hands up over his head so they can
curl around the edge of the mattress.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs. “Not until I say you can.” Jiyong nods.

Seunghyun looks down at him, then, eyes trailing over his body, trying to make up his mind where
to start. Jiyong’s softer than he usually is, a slight curve to him where normally there’s only sleek
planes, curves that he can’t help tracing, the tips of his fingers sliding down the ladder of his ribs,
touch light and whisper-soft. It looks so erotic, the way the black leather contrasts against Jiyong’s
skin.

Seunghyun closes his hand in a loose grip around Jiyong’s cock, pumping him slowly, just a tease,
just enough to speed up his breathing, to speed up his heart. And then he opens up the top drawer
of his nightstand and searches out the bottle of lube they always keep nearby. He thinks about
removing his gloves but decides against it. He likes the way they look on Jiyong’s skin.

He bends Jiyong’s legs up and urges his thighs wide apart, and then he stretches out beside him
and gets the fingers of one gloved hand good and slick. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers,”
he tells Jiyong. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, and don’t you dare come.”

Jiyong swallows, cock twitching with interest, and then Seunghyun’s reaching down between his
thighs, fingers slipping in between his cheeks. Seunghyun drags his fingers up and down the seam
of him, teasing him, rubbing the pad of his finger over the furl of his hole. Even though the glove
is thin, it’s not quite thin enough for Seunghyun to feel the fluttering of Jiyong’s rim. He has to go
by memory, by learned instinct, to know when Jiyong’s finally relaxed enough to take him in.

When the first two fingers slide in, Jiyong bucks up against Seunghyun’s hand but then stops,
checks himself, and presses his hips firmly back down to the bed.

Seunghyun rubs gently at the upper wall of his passage, feels for that hardened gland that should
be about finger-length deep, but all he can feel through the glove is the pressure of Jiyong
clenching and unclenching around his fingers. He has to rely on Jiyong’s facial cues instead,
pressing and pressing until his eyes flutter shut and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

There. Confident now, Seunghyun drags the tips of his fingers over that spot. He slides them in as
slowly as he can stand, thrusting them in and dragging them right back out, curling his fingers up at
random times so Jiyong never knows when to expect it.

Strokes patient and sure, Seunghyun starts nuzzling against Jiyong’s throat. He slicks slow,
openmouthed kisses along his neck while Jiyong struggles not to react. When he blows a gentle
stream of air over the dampened flesh, his lips curl at the way Jiyong shivers beneath him.

Jiyong’s hands ball tightly above his head, hips pushing down into the mattress to force himself to
keep still. His eyes are screwed shut, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and the only noises in
the room are the rapid little breaths he’s pulling in through his nose and the wet sound of
Seunghyun’s thrusts.

Jiyong’s doing such a good job so Seunghyun tells him so. “So good,” he whispers. “Such a good
boy.” He leans down and bites at one of Jiyong’s nipples, suckling at it when he feels the flutter of
Jiyong’s heart beneath his lips.

Seunghyun scrapes his teeth over the little bud before sucking it between his teeth as hard as he
can, and Jiyong gasps, mouth snapping back shut as soon as he registers the sound. Seunghyun
keeps suckling at him as he speeds up his thrusts, fingers curling insistently against Jiyong’s
prostate. Every muscle in Jiyong’s body is drawn as tight as it’ll go, so much so that his thighs are
shaking with the effort to stay still. He’s trying so hard that he’s even holding his breath now, air
caught inside his chest, refusing to break free because there’s no telling what sounds might break
free with it.

Finally, Jiyong seizes up and lets his stored breath out in a loud rush. “Please,” he gasps.
“I can’t.” And then he comes, hot and wet all over his stomach.

Seunghyun’s fingers still. Without a word, he eases them back out.

He sits up and pulls a tissue from the box on top of the nightstand. He calmly wipes the mess from
his glove.

And then he takes hold of his crop. Jiyong stares at it nervously.

Seunghyun’s calm when he asks, “Did I tell you to come?”

Jiyong sucks in his lower lip and shakes his head.

“Did I tell you to speak?”

Jiyong’s nervousness deepens. He shakes his head again.

Seunghyun stares down at him, dark and steel in his voice. “Are you trying to displease me?”

Jiyong opens his mouth to say something, remembers almost a beat too late that he’s not allowed
to. He closes his mouth and shakes his head a third time.

“Turn over,” Seunghyun commands. When Jiyong hesitates, Seunghyun narrows his eyes. “You
knew the rules. And you knew the punishment for breaking them.”

Jiyong licks his lips and then does what Seunghyun says, gingerly turning over to lie on his
stomach.

And Seunghyun whips him.

He starts with light slaps to his pretty little ass so Jiyong can get used to the sensation. Seunghyun
watches him intently as he does it, monitoring his reactions. Because this part is difficult for
Seunghyun, doling out pain to the one he loves. He can’t do it if pain is the only thing he’s giving,
if there’s no pleasure mixed in.

But he sees the way Jiyong’s hips undulate against the mattress as Seunghyun strikes him, and
that’s enough to reassure him. His blows escalate in intensity then, not hard enough to break the
skin but enough to make Jiyong’s cheeks rosy and hot, the sound of leather slapping against flesh
lingering in the air. Jiyong’s breath catches with each blow, fingers clawing at the sheets.

When he feels the punishment is enough, Seunghyun sets the crop back down at the top of the bed,
and Jiyong looks up at him over his shoulder. His eyes look wide and innocent and wrecked, and
for the first time, Seunghyun feels something dark and primal unfurl low in his belly. He trails the
backs of his fingers down the long arc of Jiyong’s spine before giving one of his cheeks a firm
squeeze. Jiyong hisses at the action, eyes clamping back shut.

“Turn back over,” Seunghyun says. Jiyong follows his order immediately this time, wincing when
his tender bottom comes in contact with the mattress. His cock is already hard and straining again,
tip leaking with come, and Seunghyun doesn’t even hesitate; he just slides two fingers right back
inside him. “Since you just couldn’t wait to come, let’s see you do it again.”

Seunghyun’s completely merciless this time. He thrusts in hard and fast, works his fingers in and
out until he can shove a third one in. He keeps going, stroking against the place where Jiyong’s
most sensitive over and over again. Jiyong’s doing his best to stay still, to keep quiet this time, but
his whole body is trembling, ribcage expanding and contracting as fast as a hummingbird’s wings,
and Seunghyun suddenly realizes he doesn’t want Jiyong to be still anymore, doesn’t want him to
be silent. He wants to watch him writhe on the sheets, wants to hear the sounds he’ll make when
he does.

He presses a kiss to Jiyong’s sweat-slicked throat and tastes the salt that’s gathered there. “Let me
hear you,” he breathes. “You can move now.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jiyong arches up almost violently. He plants his feet on
the mattress and starts rocking desperately against Seunghyun’s hand, eyes clamped shut, head
thrashing from side to side as he whines, teeth shut tight to make sure those whines don’t turn into
words. He squirms around, arching his back into a taught bow, chasing after Seunghyun’s touch
one second, frantically trying to get away from it the next.

It doesn’t matter where Jiyong goes, Seunghyun follows, relentless, thrusting into him until
Jiyong’s body finally seizes up again, back bowed so high his ass lifts up off the mattress.

As Jiyong gasps and pants, Seunghyun calmly withdraws his hand and makes efficient work out of
undoing the buttons of his shirt and shrugging out of it. He’s painfully hard now, a small, damp
circle on his pants from his precome. There’s nothing he wants more than to bury himself inside
Jiyong right fucking now, but all of their experiences together has taught him to be patient and last
as long as he needs to.

His pants are the next thing to go. He doesn’t bother slicking his cock. Jiyong’s wet and fucked
open, and it’s going to be the easiest thing in the world to slide right in. When he maneuvers into
the space between Jiyong’s legs, Jiyong’s still panting harshly from his second orgasm, but then he
sees what Seunghyun’s doing, how he’s getting into position, and he curls in on himself and his
thighs slam shut.

Jiyong gasps when Seunghyun yanks them right back apart. “If you want this to stop, say the
word,” Seunghyun growls. “Otherwise, keep your legs spread like a good little slut.”

Jiyong’s eyes widen, and Seunghyun waits. Waits to see if Jiyong will say the word, waits to see if
he’s ready to stop now. He almost hopes he will. So they can put an end to this little experiment.
But Jiyong’s nostrils flare, and he lets his thighs fall the rest of the way open. Seunghyun wastes
no more time; he shoves his way in, all the way in until he’s as far inside Jiyong as he can possibly
go.

Jiyong throws his head back. His inner muscles clamp down tight around Seunghyun’s shaft, and
Seunghyun bears down on him so those delicious muscles can’t push him back out. He reaches
down between them and takes hold of Jiyong’s cock; he’s soft now, but Seunghyun fondles him
anyway, caressing him until Jiyong keens and starts to writhe on his cock.

Seunghyun keeps his thrusts shallow at first, slow enough that he can aim them, so he can drag the
head of his cock over that sweet spot inside Jiyong. Jiyong groans and pants, twisting his torso
about on the mattress. His whole body is flushed and sweat-slick, eyeliner smeared under his eyes,
hair a matted mess. And Seunghyun’s never seen anything more beautiful.

He remembers what Jiyong said, about how he wants Seunghyun to lose control, to lose his cool,
and that’s all Seunghyun wants to do right now. He wants to crawl under Jiyong’s skin and lose
himself, not come back out until he’s broken and all dried up. He wants to surrender, the same
way Jiyong has to him tonight.

He leans in and kisses Jiyong, catches his lips and drinks deep. He kisses him like he’s dying, like
this is the last time, because in a way it is; the next time Seunghyun kisses him, he’ll be something
new, something strong and sure and different. Jiyong tries to kiss him back but Seunghyun presses
in so hard all Jiyong can do is let himself be ravaged.

When Seunghyun finally pulls back, Jiyong’s staring up at him with wide, blown eyes. Jiyong’s
lip trembles at whatever he sees in Seunghyun’s face, and Seunghyun feels this strange satisfaction
at that little flutter, jaw clenching in renewed determination. He braces his hands on either side of
Jiyong’s head, abdominal muscles constricting as his pelvis pulls back. He looks into Jiyong’s
eyes one last time, and then he rams all the way home. A sharp little unh breaks out of Jiyong’s
throat when Seunghyun slams into him, and it’s so fucking hot Seunghyun can’t wait to hear it
again. He thrusts back in, hard enough to scoot Jiyong up the mattress, and listens as the sweetest
string of sounds he’s ever heard pour from Jiyong’s lips.

“You want to see me lose control?” Seunghyun grunts as he continues to thrust. “You want to see
how much I want you?”

Jiyong blinks at him. But he doesn’t say anything even though permission is implicit in
Seunghyun’s question. He just tightens his grip on the mattress above his head and looks up at
Seunghyun with more need than want, and that’s enough to make the last of Seunghyun’s hang ups
melt away.

He closes his eyes and starts fucking Jiyong in earnest. His hips snap forward over and over as he
seeks out his own pleasure with single-minded focus. Jiyong feels so good, so fucking good, and
all Seunghyun wants to do is give himself over to that.

Jiyong’s writhing around, throat bared, trying to pull himself up the mattress to find some small
respite from the sensations Seunghyun keeps bludgeoning him with, but Seunghyun yanks him
back down the bed, hooking his arms under Jiyong’s legs so he can fuck into him even harder.
Jiyong wails and cries, sobs when Seunghyun forces one last orgasm out of him, and then he goes
limp, eyes completely destroyed as Seunghyun uses the last of him up.

Seunghyun can feel the heat in his cock, the way the blood is pounding through his veins. That
delicious knot inside him is pulling tighter and tighter until it’s finally too tight, so tight it snaps.
Seunghyun thrusts all the way in one last time and comes harder than he ever has in his life.

He collapses on top of Jiyong, panting, gasping, eyes squeezed tightly shut so he can hang on to his
ecstasy, so nothing else will be able to crawl in and diminish it. He has no way of knowing how
long he stays that way, face pressed against Jiyong’s throat, drunk and blissed out on pleasure.

When his nerve endings finally stop buzzing so intensely, he starts to come back to himself. He
eases back and looks over Jiyong’s face, desperate to reassure himself that everything that just
transpired between them was okay. That they’re okay. He needn’t have worried, though. Jiyong’s
gazing up at him with nothing but utter devotion, and Seunghyun just has to kiss him, has to know
what that devotion tastes like.

It’s intoxicating. Deeper than surrender, more potent than desire. Seunghyun’s not even sure
there’s a name for it, what Jiyong’s giving him right now. But it’s everything.

“So good,” Seunghyun whispers. “So, so good.” Jiyong arches into the praise.

He keeps them like this as long as he can stand, stretching the moment as far as it will stretch. But
then biology gets in the way, and he grows more and more aware of how sticky and hot everything
is. And if he’s uncomfortable, he can only imagine how bad it is for Jiyong.

Gently, he eases himself out and sits back up on the side of the bed. He pulls off his gloves and
makes quick work of cleaning himself up and then focuses all his attention on Jiyong. There were
other things he read, about how submissives tend to feel needy and exposed afterwards, how it’s
important to care for them, and even though Seunghyun knows they didn’t do anything extreme,
that’s not a part he’s about to skip out on. He’s still gentle at heart.

The first thing he notices is that Jiyong’s hands are still gripping the edge of the mattress. “You
can let go now,” Seunghyun tells him, his voice as soft and warm as he can make it. It’s not hard;
he has nothing but overwhelming fondness inside him right now.

Jiyong lets go of the mattress and starts lowering his arms back down to his sides, but Seunghyun
catches his hands on the way down. He rubs the backs of Jiyong’s knuckles with his thumbs and
then brings them up to his lips so he can press a kiss to each hand before letting them go. “It’s
okay. You can talk now. You can do whatever you want. The gloves are off.”

Jiyong relaxes into the mattress, but he still doesn’t say anything. He just drinks Seunghyun in
with wide, fragile eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Seunghyun grabs a few more tissues and
starts mopping Jiyong up next. He cleans the mess from his stomach, from his cleft, and then he
throws the used tissues into the wastebasket.

Seunghyun starts to pull himself off the bed, “Let me get you some water,” but Jiyong’s hand darts
out and catches his wrist. When Seunghyun looks at him in askance, he’s surprised at what he
finds. Jiyong looks small and far too innocent for the things they just did, like he needs Seunghyun
to stay with him and guard against the monsters under the bed.

So Seunghyun relaxes back into his seat. He leans over and smooths the sweat-soaked hair back
from Jiyong’s face before pressing his lips against his brow. He drags his lips down the side of
Jiyong’s face until he finally reaches his mouth, and then he kisses him, slow and thorough. “So
good,” he says again. “Perfect.”

When he pulls away, Jiyong whines in protest, but Seunghyun shushes him. “I’m not going
anywhere. I just need to get something.” He digs another bottle out of his nightstand, a lotion
containing aloe, and then turns back to him again. “Can you turn over for me one more time?”

Wordlessly, Jiyong does what he asks. He winces a little when he rolls over, but then he curls his
arms up under his chest and settles in. After drizzling a long line of lotion all down Jiyong’s back,
Seunghyun runs soothing hands over his skin, working his way slowly down to the swell of
Jiyong’s ass. Jiyong’s cheeks are still an angry red, and when Seunghyun curves his palm over one
of them, it’s hot to the touch, so he rubs the lotion in as gently as he can.

When he’s done, he lies back down at Jiyong’s side. “Are you okay? You’re being awfully quiet.”

Jiyong finally regains his ability to speak. “I’m okay. I’m just…processing.”

“I didn’t break you, did I?”

Jiyong lets out a sleepy giggle. “No. I liked it. Even more than I thought I would.”

Seunghyun feels something loosen inside him. “Come here.”

Jiyong takes the invitation, sliding in and cuddling up against his chest, nuzzling into him, even
more affectionate than he normally is after sex, if that’s possible. “Can we do it again sometime?”
he asks.

Chuckling, Seunghyun rests his chin on top of Jiyong’s head. “Yeah. Whatever you want.” He
has a whole drawer of things they’ve yet to try.

A moment later, Jiyong asks, “Can we keep the gloves?”

Seunghyun smirks up at the ceiling. He knew he looked hot in those.

Seunghyun wipes down his gloves and has them sent out to be cleaned, and when he gets them
back, he tucks them away in his nightstand. He and Jiyong have both been so busy lately; they’ve
barely even seen each other, much less had time to engage in any more of Jiyong’s kinky fantasies.
When they do have sex, it’s fast and quick, just enough to reinforce their connection before they
fall asleep in each other’s arms, weary and bone tired.

When they finally catch a break, Jiyong comes over to hang out, and they fight over what film to
watch. Jiyong vetoes everything Seunghyun wants to watch without even hearing any of the titles
first, muttering something about artsy and boring and not enough special effects, so Seunghyun
pouts and turns his nose up at everything Jiyong suggests out of spite.

Jiyong finally huffs and gives up. “I don’t know what it matters, anyway. It’s not like we’re
actually going to watch it.”

Seunghyun raises one eyebrow at him.

“We’re just going to pretend to watch it until halfway through, and then we’ll start making out, and
you’ll wind up fucking me on the couch. That’s how it always goes. We might as well just get
straight to the fucking.”

“And here I thought you were a romantic.”

Jiyong scoffs. “I’ve barely seen you in ages. Let’s leave the romance for another day.” Then he
slides over and fits their mouths together.

Seunghyun tilts his head and kisses him deeper, presses into Jiyong’s space until he’s flat on his
back with his legs pulled high around Seunghyun’s waist. He licks into Jiyong’s mouth and
decides this is way better than watching a movie, especially whatever big budget, foreign
monstrosity Jiyong was bound to pick out.

He settles in against Jiyong and grinds their hips together. Jiyong’s just gotten to the point where
he’s panting and digging his fingers into Seunghyun’s back when Seunghyun finally groans and
slumps against him. “Hang on,” he says. “We need lube.”

Jiyong huffs and releases him. “Hurry.”

Seunghyun tears himself away and hastily makes his way toward the bedroom. He yanks open the
nightstand drawer and fumbles around for the bottle he’s looking for, but then a glimpse of black
leather catches his attention, and now he can’t see anything else. He thinks about the last time they
used these, how Jiyong came absolutely undone and surrendered every part of himself into
Seunghyun’s care.

Seunghyun doesn’t really care about power, and he’s never been much of a sadist, but even still,
their last experience with this affected him far more than he ever thought it would. It was heady
and wonderful, the way Jiyong’s whole world narrowed down just to him.

He wants to feel that again.

Seunghyun grabs the lube and the gloves and finally heads back out.

Jiyong looks annoyed when he gets back to the living room. “What took you so long? I was about
to put on Batman.” But then his eyes fall to the gloves in Seunghyun’s hands.

Seunghyun sets the lube down on the coffee table and deliberately pulls the first glove on, then the
second. Jiyong’s gaze tracks each move he makes.

“Do you remember the safeword?” Seunghyun asks.

Jiyong’s eyes dart up to his. He nods.

Seunghyun flexes his fingers to make sure the gloves are all the way on. “Then take off your
clothes.”

They experiment with different things: a flogger, vibrators, hot wax. Jiyong responds to all of it
with increasing enthusiasm. Some things he likes better than others, of course, but that never really
seems to matter to him.
One day, Seunghyun just asks him, “What do you like the best?” He’s trying his best to keep
introducing him to new things, to keep it exciting for him, but he wouldn’t mind a little more
feedback.

“Your voice,” Jiyong answers, cheeks turning a pretty pink. “I don’t really care what we do as
long as you’re the one telling me to do it.” That shouldn’t hit Seunghyun as hard as it does, but it
sends butterflies fluttering throughout his gut.

Jiyong lets out this shy little laugh after that. “And I really like the gloves.”

So no matter what they try, Seunghyun always brings in the gloves, at least at the start of it.
They’re like a signal that lets Jiyong know when they’re about to start something, like a switch that
flips and turns him docile.

The change happens almost instantaneously, now. No matter what else he might be doing, the
moment Jiyong sees the gloves, he goes soft and pliant, doesn’t move a muscle, won’t breathe a
word, not until Seunghyun sets their new rules.

One day, Jiyong calls him up and tells him he’s coming over, and Seunghyun is waiting for him in
the kitchen with the gloves on when he walks through the door. Jiyong’s eyes glaze over at the
sight.

“Do you remember the safeword?” he asks, the way they always start these things.

At Jiyong’s nod, Seunghyun hands him a sponge. “You’re going to scrub this kitchen clean. The
floors, the counters. Every surface you can reach.” Then he hands him the bottle of lube. “And
I’m going to come and fuck you, as many times as I want, whenever the mood strikes me. So you
better be ready at all times.”

Jiyong sucks in a breath. “Am I allowed to talk?”

Most of the time, Seunghyun doesn’t allow him to, but today he’s feeling generous. And playful.
“You can talk as much as you want. As long as you scrub while you do it.”

Jiyong stands there, sponge in one hand, lube in the other, like he doesn’t know where he’s
supposed to start, so Seunghyun says, “What are you waiting for? Undress.”

So Jiyong does. He sets the lube and sponge down on the counter and starts taking off his clothes,
folding them up nice and neat as he goes. Seunghyun takes the pile from him when he’s done.
Jiyong’s naked, now, standing in the center of his kitchen. The artificial lights are bright on his
skin, highlighting all his angles and all his hollows. It’s something Seunghyun’s always been
envious of, how easy it is for Jiyong to show his body. Whether he’s been working out or not has
never really mattered; Jiyong’s always been comfortable in his own skin.

Really, though, Seunghyun is feeling far too gleeful at all of this. “Jiyong?”

“Yeah?” It’s cute, how eager Jiyong is when he turns to look at Seunghyun.

“No matter what, you’re not allowed to touch your cock. Got it?”

“Yeah.”
It’s the hardest thing in the world for Seunghyun to pull himself together enough to walk away, to
leave Jiyong alone and untouched. But he does it. He plops down on the couch in the living room
with the clearest vantage of the kitchen and turns on the TV. He does his best to pretend like he’s
interested in it and not watching every move Jiyong makes out of the corner of his eye.

He sees Jiyong reach for the sponge but then change his mind, hand closing around the lube
instead. He watches him coat his hand and then look about the room for a bit before reaching
around and getting himself slick.

Seunghyun waits just a couple minutes, then gets back up and walks casually back to the kitchen.
Jiyong sees him coming and braces himself, but Seunghyun just walks right past him. He gets a
glass out of the cabinet and fills it with some of the chilled water from the fridge and then heads
right back to his spot on the couch.

Jiyong gazes at him as he sinks back down on the couch, looking almost disappointed. He stays
like that for a while, but Seunghyun makes it a point not to look at him, not to show him that he’s
even the slightest bit affected. At a loss, Jiyong has nothing to do but pick up the sponge and get to
work.

Seunghyun didn’t give him any cleaning agent, didn’t figure it was very safe to bring those kinds
of chemicals into this, so Jiyong just wets the sponge under the faucet and starts wiping down the
counter. And Seunghyun lets him stay like that, scrubbing at the counters, naked and lubed up,
just begging for a cock to fill him. His eyes pass from Jiyong to the television to the clock, making
a mental goal to wait at least an hour before he makes his first move. His leg starts bouncing in
anticipation, and he has to push his palm down against his thigh to force it to be still.

He doesn’t know how he finds it in himself to be this patient. He figures he must just be used to it,
waiting. His life is spent waiting in airports, waiting backstage, waiting for his turn to film. He
just has to find a way to distract himself so the waiting doesn’t seem so long.

Those last three minutes before the hour is up are excruciating. It takes everything in him not to
give in, to keep watching as the minute hand makes its rounds.

When the time’s finally up, Seunghyun stands up and pads his way back into the kitchen, hands
sliding the end of his belt through the buckle and undoing his fly. Jiyong turns around when he
hears him approach, but Seunghyun catches his hips and pushes him right back toward the counter.

He shoves his pants further down and takes the base of his cock in one hand so he can drag the tip
up and down Jiyong’s cleft. “Do you want it?” Seunghyun asks.

Jiyong bends further over the counter. “You know I do.”

Seunghyun spreads his cheeks and rubs the head of his cock against Jiyong’s hole. “How much?”

Jiyong presses back against him, desperate to take him in. “You know how much.”

But Seunghyun’s feeling mischievous today. He pushes Jiyong’s hips back against the counter and
dips just the head in. “Tell me.” He pulses his hips, sliding the tip slowly in and out of Jiyong.
“If you want more, tell me.”

Jiyong bends over even more. “I…” he trails off into this hitched little breath.

“Too late.” Seunghyun pulls all the way out and releases him. He gives Jiyong’s ass a fond little
swat before sliding the sponge back in front of him. “Keep scrubbing.”
Jiyong turns and looks at him in complete disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?”

Seunghyun shrugs, a playful twinkle in his eye, and then casually makes his way back toward the
living room. He doesn’t bother doing his pants back up, just hitches them back up over his ass and
lets them stay open.

Jiyong follows him but stops once he reaches the end of the kitchen tile, an invisible barrier
keeping him from going any further. “You’re seriously going to leave me like this?” He gestures
down at his rigid cock.

“Shhh, my drama’s coming on.” He flops back down on the couch and starts flipping through the
channels. He stops on some cheesy looking show with cheery background music and a palette of
rich pastels, some sort of love story, for sure.

Jiyong scoffs. “You don’t watch dramas.”

He fights the urge to smirk. “I watch this one.”

“You don’t even know what it’s about.”

“That’s why I have to watch it. To find out,” Seunghyun reasons, as if it’s obvious. “Shouldn’t
you be scrubbing?”

Jiyong huffs and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and finally gives in. He goes back
over to his sponge and resumes his cleaning.

Seunghyun can only imagine what the fangirls would think if they could see them. He has G-
dragon naked and waiting to be properly fucked, but instead, he has him scrubbing his kitchen.
Seunghyun probably deserves to be reprimanded for this.

The counters and cabinets finally done, Jiyong sinks down to his knees and starts on the floor.
And Seunghyun can tell when the idea first enters Jiyong’s mind, knows exactly what he’s up to
when Jiyong sits up on his knees and stretches his arms high above his head. The motion draws
attention to the sinew of his body and the slenderness of his waist, the picture he makes becoming
even more seductive when he starts running his hands over himself, down his chest, over his hips,
along his inner thighs. He touches himself everywhere except the one place Seunghyun ordered
him not to touch.

If Jiyong thinks this is going to work on him…well, he’s probably right. Seunghyun is salivating
at the sight, pressing the heel of his hand down on his cock, hopefully subtly enough so that Jiyong
doesn’t notice. But then he realizes that there’s no need to hide; he’s the one in charge here.

His hand curls around his cock and brings it the rest of the way out of the opening in his pants.
The head is still slick from being inside Jiyong earlier so he spreads the leftover gel down the rest
of his shaft and slowly pumps as he watches Jiyong’s show.

When Jiyong notices what he’s doing, he stops caressing himself. “I could help you with that.”

Seunghyun grins at him, hand still leisurely stroking his cock. “You could, but I’m too lazy to go
over there.”

“I could come to you,” Jiyong suggests, desire heavy in his eyes. “If you tell me to.”

Seunghyun pretends to consider that. “But then who would clean my kitchen? You missed a spot,
by the way.”
Jiyong slumps, defeated. “You suck.”

Seunghyun cackles. “I didn’t realize how much of a slut you are for it.”

Jiyong shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Seunghyun should probably punish him for talking back to him like that, but he’s having way too
much fun messing with him. And he did tell him he could talk as much as he wanted.

Jiyong gets back to work and Seunghyun refocuses on the TV. He makes it through an entire
episode somehow, though he barely remembers a thing from it. There’s some poor girl in love
with some rich guy, and that’s about as far in as he gets. He keeps watching Jiyong, instead, the
play of muscles in his arms and back as he slides the sponge over the floor, the way his pert little
ass bobs as he cleans.

When Jiyong gets up and starts working on the outside of the refrigerator, Seunghyun rolls back up
off the couch. He prowls quietly toward the kitchen, so quietly Jiyong doesn’t even notice him
approaching. Jiyong’s got his back to him, scrubbing diligently at the refrigerator door, and
Seunghyun sneaks right up behind him.

He reaches out and pokes Jiyong’s hip, and Jiyong drops the sponge and whirls around, startled.
Seunghyun doesn’t wait to see the surprise turn into relief. He just lifts Jiyong up, pushes him
back against the fridge, and thrusts up into him with one swift motion. Jiyong throws his head
back and knocks it against the fridge.

Seunghyun knows how much Jiyong loves being manhandled, loves when Seunghyun uses his
greater height and strength to his advantage. For whatever reason, Jiyong likes feeling small and
delicate, and it’s even easier to accommodate now that Seunghyun’s been working out so much for
his movie.

Seunghyun grinds up into him, pinning him to the fridge with his hips. “Did you think of an
answer?”

“What?” The word comes out wispy and breathless.

“To my question from earlier. How much do you want it?” He swivels his hips to punctuate his
point, and Jiyong’s mouth falls open in this soundless little gasp.

When Jiyong still doesn’t say anything, Seunghyun starts to pull out, but Jiyong’s eyes snap open,
and he squeezes down hard around Seunghyun’s cock. “Wait.”

Seunghyun waits.

Jiyong licks his lips then, eyes darting back and forth between Seunghyun’s. “Anything,” he
finally answers. “I want you more than anything. And I’ll do anything. Anything you want.
Anything you tell me to. That’s how much.”

Seunghyun goes still. There’s a weight to this that wasn’t there before. A heaviness in Jiyong’s
answer that Seunghyun’s question wasn’t asking for. But now that Jiyong’s given it, Seunghyun
thinks maybe it was what he wanted to hear all along.

He shoves their mouths together, bullying his way into Jiyong’s mouth. He kisses him so hard he’s
trembling with it. With a bit of effort, he gets his arms hooked under Jiyong’s legs instead of over
them so he can open Jiyong further up and fuck him better, harder. Jiyong’s hands shoot up above
his head as he scrabbles for purchase, finally catching the top edge of the fridge as Seunghyun
pounds into him, his tailbone knocking repeatedly against the door.

All the playfulness from earlier is gone, something much more primal taking its place. Seunghyun
wants to mark him, to brand him, to use him all up. He wants to hollow Jiyong out and pour
himself in and burn him up from the inside. Seunghyun thrusts into him frantically, sinks his teeth
into Jiyong’s shoulder and comes completely undone.

He’s not even sure if Jiyong comes; Seunghyun’s shaking too bad to do anything about it even if
he needs to. All he can think to do is press closer and smother Jiyong’s body with his. “It’s mine,
now. All of it. Everything you just said.”

Jiyong’s little fists clutch at him, and he nods his head.

“What do you like the best?” Jiyong asks him soon after that, a repeat of the question Seunghyun
once asked him.

Seunghyun thinks about it. He thinks about ropes and blindfolds and the riding crop. But really,
he doesn’t feel a special attachment to any of it.

“I like what you like,” he finally says.

“Is that the only reason you’re doing this then? Because I like it?”

Seunghyun doesn’t really know how to answer that. He nearly says yes, that’s the reason, because
that’s why they started all of this in the first place, but Jiyong’s vulnerable look tells him that might
be the wrong answer.

“No,” Seunghyun begins, tentatively. “It’s fun for me, too.”

Vulnerable takes a sharp dive into disappointed. “Fun?” Jiyong repeats, lifeless.

Seunghyun opens his mouth to correct his mistake but closes it again once he realizes that he
doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know what other answer to give. Not if wanting to make Jiyong
happy isn’t a suitable answer either.

“Don’t you get anything out of it?” Jiyong asks.

Not the way you do, Seunghyun thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, he comes up with a truth he hopes
they can both live with. “I get to be your whole world. When the gloves are on, all you see is me.
That’s what I get.”

Jiyong lowers his guard a little at that. “We can do other things. More intense things. You can
use me however you want.”

Seunghyun does his best not to think of those moments where he wanted to do just that. Use him.
Brand him. Take everything for himself. Those aren’t desires Seunghyun normally has, and he’s
not entirely comfortable that he had them then. He wants to make Jiyong happy. He wants to care
for him. Protect him. He doesn’t want to be the thing Jiyong needs protection from.

He doesn’t respond to Jiyong’s offer. Instead, he wraps his arms around him and draws him close.
Reminds himself that this is what he really wants: Jiyong, in his arms, safe and whole.
The next time the gloves are on, there’s a new gleam in Jiyong’s eyes. His head doesn’t bow as
low as it normally does, and the line of his body stays tense where it normally goes pliant.

He doesn’t follow orders as fast, either. There’s a small space between Seunghyun giving a
command and Jiyong obeying it, and it’s putting Seunghyun on edge. There’s a hot itch under his
skin and an angry tick in his jaw, and he cocks his head from side to side and tries to keep himself
under control.

Grabbing Jiyong by the scruff of his neck, he pulls him into a punishing kiss. When he tears
himself away, he uses his grip on Jiyong to shove him down to his knees.

“You have such a pretty mouth,” Seunghyun says. “I haven’t been paying nearly enough attention
to it.” He yanks Jiyong’s face against the bulge in his pants. “Kiss me.”

Jiyong mouths at the indention of his cock, hot and wet enough that Seunghyun can feel it through
the fabric.

“Take me out,” he orders. Jiyong’s hands pull at his belt and makes quick work of the zipper. He
pushes Seunghyun’s pants down just enough to free his cock, but that’s as far as he goes because
that’s as far as Seunghyun told him to.

Seunghyun tugs his belt free of its loops. “Give me your hands.”

At first, Jiyong doesn’t do it; he waits, makes Seunghyun wait, and then he slowly lifts up his
hands. Seunghyun’s teeth grind together as he grabs at them, wrapping the belt around his wrists
and knotting them together, tight enough to hold but loose enough that they shouldn’t bruise as long
as Jiyong doesn’t struggle too much. But with Jiyong’s current attitude, Seunghyun can’t make
any guarantees.

Seunghyun nudges the head of his cock against Jiyong’s lips. “What are you waiting for? Be a
good boy and suck.”

Jiyong does it without too much fuss, wraps his lips around his shaft, and takes him in with his
usual finesse. Jiyong’s so fucking good at this, knows just how much pressure to use, just how
much tongue, can keep it up for ages without his rhythm ever faltering.

But Seunghyun’s not here for Jiyong’s skill. Not tonight. He’s here for everything but that. When
Jiyong sucks him in again, Seunghyun thrusts into it, and Jiyong chokes, not expecting that.

“You said I could use you however I want,” Seunghyun murmurs, sliding his shaft between
Jiyong’s lips. Jiyong stares up at him, swallows around Seunghyun’s cock, and then deliberately
relaxes his jaw.

Seunghyun takes hold of Jiyong’s hair again to hold him in place and starts pumping into his
mouth. He keeps his thrusts short and shallow at first, a courtesy, to get Jiyong used to it, and then
he thrusts in deeper, knocking the head of his cock against the back of Jiyong’s throat, only
Jiyong’s ready for him this time. He hums around Seunghyun’s dick and suppresses his urge to
gag. And then Seunghyun pushes further in so the tip slides down Jiyong’s throat. He holds it
there, giving Jiyong a chance to adjust, waiting to see if he’ll protest, but Jiyong lets out a lewd
moan that vibrates along the full length of his cock, and Seunghyun’s gone.
He starts fucking Jiyong’s mouth the way he wants to fuck his body. He shoves his way down
Jiyong’s throat as far as he can go, holds him in place, and forces him to take it. It’s more brutal
than what he’d normally be, but all of Jiyong’s little rebellions have ignited a fire in his blood.

But in the back of his mind, he still pays attention; Jiyong couldn’t use the safeword even if he
wanted to right now, so Seunghyun has to look out for their other signs. Two quick taps from
Jiyong’s tied hands will put an end to this, but the needy look in Jiyong’s eyes tells him that’s not
likely to happen.

Seunghyun pulls out after a slew of quick, brutal thrusts, and Jiyong gasps, lungs sucking in greedy
mouthfuls of air. There’s a stream of saliva dripping down his chin, mouth red and swollen from
use. He looks gorgeous, on his knees, hands bound, completely at Seunghyun’s mercy.

Seunghyun feels that same dark urge in him, to push, to shove, to splinter and break, and when
Jiyong flicks out his tongue and laps up a bead of come from his slit, Seunghyun gives himself
over to it. “Again,” he growls, thrusting back in.

He fucks Jiyong the way he normally would, the pace he likes, the one that pushes him to the edge
the fastest, and Jiyong takes it. With tear tracks on his face, he takes it, groaning and humming,
sputtering during those few precious moments he’s allowed to breathe, Jiyong takes everything
Seunghyun gives.

Finally having enough, Seunghyun pulls out one last time and tugs up on Jiyong’s hair. “Stand
up.”

But Jiyong doesn’t stand. He gives Seunghyun a calculated look and then juts out his chin.
“Make me.”

It makes Seunghyun boil. “Don’t push me,” he growls.

“Or else what?” Jiyong scoffs. “You’ll punish me?”

Seunghyun narrows his eyes at him. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Jiyong lets out this mocking little laugh. “You don’t have it in you.” He spits at Seunghyun’s
feet. “You’re just a little bitch.”

Seunghyun has his hands on him so fast, pulling at him, yanking him over to the bed and shoving
him facedown over his lap. Jiyong struggles as he goes, struggles more once Seunghyun has him
fully in his grasp. Seunghyun has to hold him down on his lap with one arm.

Once the first swat lands, he feels this overwhelming need to deliver another. He smacks him
again and again and again. The slaps build in intensity, faster, harder, until Jiyong is writhing and
begging on his lap, a string of stop and please and I’m sorry breaking past his lips. “I’ll be good,”
Jiyong cries. “I’ll be good.”

But the one thing Jiyong doesn’t say is the safeword, so Seunghyun keeps going. He strikes him
until his ass is sore and red, until Jiyong’s cock is rock hard and leaking over his lap, but still
Seunghyun doesn’t lighten up. There’s this buzzing in his ears, the rhythm of an angry war drum,
and all Seunghyun can think about through the haze is how much he wants to break things. Just
because he can. He wants to shove Jiyong down and fill him with his cock and fuck him till he’s
raw. He wants to hear Jiyong beg him to do it.

When he stops doling out Jiyong’s punishment, he tells him again. “Stand up.”
Jiyong obeys immediately this time, if somewhat slowly. He’s shaking, fragile enough that
Seunghyun could break him open with his bare hands. Seunghyun stands up and towers over him,
feels a deep sense of satisfaction when Jiyong curls in on himself and bows his head.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and lets his anger metabolize, and then he reaches out and
tilts Jiyong’s chin back up with the gloved crook of his finger. “Are you going to be good now?”

Jiyong nods fervently.

Seunghyun tilts Jiyong’s chin up even higher. “You’re mine. You do as I say.”

Swallowing, Jiyong nods again, and then Seunghyun shoves him down on the mattress. Jiyong’s
bound hands fly out in front of him to help break his fall, and he rolls over on his side so he can
watch Seunghyun once he lands.

Seunghyun methodically sheds his clothes, all but the gloves, and then he moves on to Jiyong’s.
He pulls him out of his pants, tugs his shirt over his head and down his arms until it catches on the
bindings around his wrists, and then he flips him back over onto his stomach. “Stay put.”

Jiyong doesn’t even think about disobeying this time. He just stays on the bed and puffs fast little
breaths across the sheets as Seunghyun retrieves the lube. Once Seunghyun has the bottle, he
looks back down at Jiyong, and all the steel in him melts away. He looks incredible, hands bound,
tattoos curling over his skin, waiting for Seunghyun to come back and destroy him in whatever
way he deems fit. Jiyong would let him, Seunghyun knows. Didn’t he say as much? Anything,
he’d said. I’ll do anything.

Slowly, Seunghyun circles back around and crawls onto the foot of the bed. He tugs gently at
Jiyong’s hips until he’s up on his knees with his elbows still pressed against the mattress, and then
he fits himself behind him. Jiyong’s ass is still pink from Seunghyun’s hand.

He strokes at the flesh there, letting some of the gentleness back into his hands, and Jiyong moves
into the touch.

Anything you want. Soft whispers inside Seunghyun’s head.

“You’re mine,” Seunghyun tells him for the second time that night, only this time it’s tender,
reverent. Jiyong looks back at him over his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut when Seunghyun runs
the length of one gloved finger down the long curve of his spine.

He thinks he gets it now, what Jiyong’s trying to give him, why he wants so badly to be used.
When Jiyong says Seunghyun can have anything, he not only means it, he wants desperately for
Seunghyun to take him up on it. Because taking him up on it means that Seunghyun wants what
he’s offering. It’s just another verse to a conversation they once had, about Jiyong’s need to feel
wanted.

“It’s all mine,” he murmurs, accepts. And then he slicks his cock and makes his words true.

Seunghyun works into him with long, steady slides of his cock, all the while listening to the needy
sounds Jiyong makes. He keeps one hand on Jiyong’s hip to help lever his thrusts while the other
slopes into the concave of Jiyong’s arched back and caresses him there.

But he wants more. Wants to give more. Wants to take more.

Picking up the discarded bottle, he pours even more lube over the place where their bodies
connect, and more still over the leather encasing his dominant hand. He’s thorough with it,
slicking his cock from root to tip and coating Jiyong’s rim.

He replaces his cock with his fingers, sliding two into Jiyong’s tightness and massaging him there.
He needs to get Jiyong to relax as much as he can for what he has in mind. Jiyong whines and
grinds down on his hand, and once he starts getting really into it, Seunghyun hooks his fingers and
pulls them to the side, stretching Jiyong further open and holding him there. Jiyong hisses at the
feel.

Seunghyun resumes his ministrations, massaging into him again, rubbing at his prostate to work
him into another frenzy before doing it all over again, stretching him toward the other side this
time.

Seunghyun gets him looser than he’s ever been. They’ve never done anything like what
Seunghyun’s about to try. He doesn’t even know where the urge came from. He just has the chant
for more, more ringing in his head.

He keeps fingering Jiyong till he’s begging and straining and sweat-drenched, and then he slides
two fingers deep inside him and hold him open as he starts nudging his way in with his cock.
Jiyong gasps at the added intrusion, shudders and seizes up. His muscles start fluttering wildly
around Seunghyun in an instinctive attempt to push him back out. But Seunghyun just holds still
and soothes him through it with gentle touches from his free hand.

“It’s okay,” Seunghyun tells him. “It’s just me.”

Jiyong sinks even further down on his elbows and forces himself to relax, and Seunghyun eases
just a little further inside. He gets his other hand around Jiyong and strokes at his cock to get him
to relax that little bit more, and then Seunghyun pushes the rest of the way in. Jiyong tenses up,
his whole body one long rigid line.

“Breathe, baby,” Seunghyun whispers.

Jiyong’s breath rushes out, and a loud, stuttering one sucks back in. It feels amazing, being inside
Jiyong like this, with the added friction of his fingers, and the urge to thrust is overwhelming. But
Seunghyun stays still and lets Jiyong acclimate, glad he trained himself so well at being patient.

He pumps at Jiyong’s cock and whispers soft words of adoration, how much he wants Jiyong, how
good he feels, how beautiful he looks like this. And finally Jiyong starts to roll his hips.
Seunghyun takes that as his permission to thrust.

He takes it as slow as he can bear, thrusting into Jiyong’s warm, wet heat, his cock sliding against
the leather encasing his fingers. Jiyong’s breaths are punching out of him one second and greedily
sucking back in the next. He groans when Seunghyun starts to speed up and build his rhythm.

Seunghyun has to release Jiyong’s shaft and catch his hip again so he can properly guide him. He
needs the added grip to keep them locked and moving together, to keep his thrusts steady and even,
those quick, shallow thrusts that leave him dizzy and aching for more. He loses himself in the
sensation, in the heat, intoxicated by the knowledge that Jiyong’s letting him do this to him.
Jiyong lets out these sharp little cries with each thrust so Seunghyun keeps pushing into him to hear
even more.

At some point, all the tension drains from Jiyong’s body and he goes limp. Seunghyun has to catch
him about the waist to hold him up so he can grind into him those last few times and find his
release.
When Seunghyun pulls out, Jiyong collapses down onto the mattress, and Seunghyun takes a
minute to catch his breath before joining him. The gloves are hot and sticky on his hands so he
pulls them off and casts them aside.

He looks over toward Jiyong, but Jiyong’s head is turned the other way. “Hey,” Seunghyun
murmurs, nudging gently at Jiyong’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” But he doesn’t get any response,
not even an acknowledgement. “Jiyong?”

When Jiyong still doesn’t respond, a cold sense of dread settles in at the base of Seunghyun’s
spine. He gets his arms around Jiyong and rolls him over on the mattress. “Sweetheart?”
Seunghyun’s just about to seriously panic when Jiyong lets out a soft, dopey giggle. Seunghyun
sighs in relief, pulling him into his arms. “Fuck, you scared me. Don’t do that to me.”

But Jiyong’s still not saying anything. He just nuzzles into Seunghyun’s chest, makes a couple
snuffling sounds, and stays limp, so Seunghyun holds him close and pets his hair and tries to get
his wits about him enough to figure out what he’s supposed to do next.

He thinks back to everything he’s read and remembers a whole lot of references to this trance-like
state submissives sometimes enter. He hadn’t given it much credence then because it had seemed
like some sort myth or hoax, or at the most a hypothetical that they would never have to deal with.
The only real thing he remembers learning about it is that it’s important that he takes care of Jiyong
while he goes through it.

The first thing he does is free Jiyong from his bounds. His wrists have red lines etched into them
from the belt, but they’re not too bad. Seunghyun doesn’t think they’ll last more than a few days.
Worst case scenario is that Seunghyun will have to buy Jiyong another slew of bracelets to cover
them up.

Next, he lifts Jiyong up in his arms and goes to the head of the bed, maneuvering them until his
back is propped up on pillows against the headboard with Jiyong curled protectively in his arms.
He tugs his blanket up over them and tucks it tightly around Jiyong to keep him warm.

And then he waits.

He pets Jiyong’s hair from time to time and strokes his skin with soothing hands. His lips stay
close to Jiyong’s forehead, brushing over it, pressing tender kisses there. “Good,” he whispers,
over and over. “Such a good boy.”

Seunghyun holds him close and rocks him every now and again. He talks to him at times because
he doesn’t really know what else to do, tells him how he’ll give him a massage after this, a bath,
whatever he wants. It’s hot under the blanket, but Jiyong’s still shivering a little so Seunghyun
keeps them covered.

Finally, Seunghyun pulls back so he can look down at Jiyong’s face. “Come on, baby,” he
murmurs, stroking his hand against the side of Jiyong’s face. “Come back.”

Eventually, the light comes back into Jiyong’s eyes, though he seems more drunk than lucid.
“Hyung,” he giggles, then babbles some sort of nonsense about butterflies and light sticks before
pressing sloppy kisses against the side of Seunghyun’s throat. There’s no heat to it, though. It’s
more adorable than anything.

He’s seen Jiyong a lot when he’s drunk or high, but Seunghyun is rarely sober himself at those
times, so this is a different experience, different in that Seunghyun has full control of his faculties
right now, but also very much the same, because it always seems to end with Jiyong in his lap,
giggly and affectionate, clinging to him like Seunghyun’s lap is his rightful throne.

“Are you doing okay?” Seunghyun asks him.

Jiyong looks up at him, dazed, and then starts sucking at the skin under Seunghyun’s jaw.

“You’re going to give me a hickey,” Seunghyun warns, but he doesn’t stop him. He just lets
Jiyong mark him however he wants. “Do you want anything? Something to drink?” But Jiyong
just keeps nipping at his throat, and then he starts tugging at one of Seunghyun’s nipples.

Seunghyun chuckles at him. “You’re such a mess.”

Slowly, some of the strength comes back into Jiyong’s limbs. He squirms around a bit and tries to
lift himself up. Seunghyun’s hands fall to Jiyong’s hips to help him, to lend him some of his own
strength so Jiyong can get to where he’s trying to go. With his help, Jiyong gets a leg on either
side of Seunghyun’s lap and then looks down into Seunghyun’s face.

There’s a hint of awareness in Jiyong’s eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in and breaths
against Seunghyun’s lips, sliding their mouths together and sweeping his tongue in lazily.
Reaching down between them, he caresses Seunghyun to hardness, then grips the base of the shaft
and tries to raise up over it. Jiyong’s legs start shaking, unable to hold himself up, so Seunghyun
tightens his grip on Jiyong’s hips and helps ease him down.

Seunghyun slides into him easily; Jiyong’s far too relaxed to resist. Jiyong squirms around a little
to get himself seated comfortably on Seunghyun’s cock, and then he cuddles up against his chest.
That’s as far as Jiyong gets, though, the last drops of his strength all used up, so Seunghyun uses
his grip on him to roll his hips for him and ease them into a gentle grind. He rocks up into Jiyong
from time to time and feels the tiny jolts of pleasure shoot through him, but he doesn’t bother
chasing them down. This isn’t about that. It’s about connection. Reminding each other that the
events of tonight didn’t break it.

The blanket slid down a bit while Jiyong was moving about, so Seunghyun tugs it back up around
Jiyong’s shoulders and holds him close.

They don’t speak for a long time. Any words they could possibly say right now would only take
away from the moment. Like a secret they’re keeping deep down inside of them that grows and
grows until it fills every part of them, and while they might want to tell it to the world, Seunghyun
knows speaking of it would only make it smaller somehow.

“I’ll be good next time,” Jiyong finally whispers. Seunghyun pulls him closer.

They talk some about what happened after that, what Jiyong’s just been through, this altered state
of mind. Jiyong’s not nearly as concerned about it as Seunghyun was. It seems he’s read far more
into it than Seunghyun has.

“I really wanted to see what it was like,” Jiyong adds.

“And? What was it like?”

“Um,” Jiyong thinks about it. “Floaty?”

“Floaty?”

Jiyong laughs. “I don’t know how to describe it. I felt light? At peace? Like I just floated away.”

Seunghyun’s brow raises. “It sounds like you were tripping.”

Giggling, Jiyong agrees, “I think I was. It was like, I knew what was happening, but I just…didn’t
care. You were there, and that was all that mattered. I don’t know. It felt good. I want to do it
again.”

Jiyong finally eases off his cock and goes to readjust himself on the bed, but then lets out this
pained hiss.

“Are you okay?” Seunghyun asks, but then he notices what’s causing Jiyong’s distress. He’s
favoring his bottom, trying to twist back onto his side where it’s more comfortable. Seunghyun’s
eyes shutter. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jiyong laughs softly, and that makes it even worse because it’s not okay, it’s not even
remotely okay.

It fucks him up, that he was capable of doing that to Jiyong, that he liked it, that he lost himself in
it. He hasn’t had much chance to think about it – he’s been more concerned with taking care of
Jiyong – but now the weight of what he’s done hits him. Seunghyun’s never really thought of
himself as much of a Dom. It’s always been pretend, just another role for him to fill. He’s only
ever done this to please Jiyong, not to satisfy some sick urge in him he didn’t even know was there.

Jiyong’s eyes soften at his misery. “Seunghyun, it’s okay. The gloves were on.”

But that makes him even more agitated. “It doesn’t matter if the gloves were on. It was
still me. I’m still the one who did it.”

Jiyong licks his lips, searching for something more to say. “I know. I wanted you to do it. I
pushed you into it.”

“But why? Why do you like me like that?”

Instead of answering, Jiyong asks, “What were you thinking about? When you were doing it?”

Seunghyun doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to remember all the dark thoughts he
had, doesn’t want to admit that those thoughts came from his brain. But Jiyong’s always been
honest with him, so he feels compelled to be honest back. “You. Tearing into you. Breaking you
apart. I wanted to hold you down and fuck you till you screamed.”

“Anything else?”

Seunghyun shakes his head, ashamed. “That’s pretty much the gist of it.”

Jiyong nods, accepting. “That’s why. In those moments, I’m all that exists. You’re not thinking
about filming or our new album. No stray thoughts about what you want to eat later or what you
have to do tomorrow. There’s just me. I’m all there is.”

Seunghyun remembers what he told Jiyong about what he gets out of this, how he likes being the
center of Jiyong’s world. Their words seem so similar. It makes him pause, just a little, hearing
that Jiyong seems to want this for the same reasons Seunghyun does.
Except something still isn’t sitting right. “It’s different, though,” Seunghyun reasons. “I hurt you.”

“I let you,” Jiyong counters.

Seunghyun shakes his head and says it again, “I hurt you. And I liked it. I like seeing you helpless
and small and vulnerable. I like making you that way. What the fuck does that say about me?”

Jiyong doesn’t give him any quarter. “I liked it, too. You think I don’t know how pathetic I look?
Crawling on my knees? Begging for your cock? What does that say about me?”

That shuts him up.

“You’re making it seem like we’ve done something bad, but we haven’t. I like what you do to me.
And I think you like what I do to you. And that’s okay. As long as we both want it, it’s okay.”
Jiyong kisses him then, kisses all his anguish away. “We all have dark thoughts. It just so happens
that ours complement one another.”

Seunghyun relaxes. He lets Jiyong heal him with his touch. “Like almond and chocolate?”

Jiyong cracks a grin. “Like almond and chocolate.”

Two hours later and Jiyong is still boneless on the bed. He’s having way too much fun letting
Seunghyun pamper him, but Seunghyun doesn’t mind catering to his whims. He’s only left the
room once to get Jiyong some water and rice crackers, but now he’s back on the bed, Jiyong curled
up in his embrace.

It’s a struggle to get the water bottle open with Jiyong in his arms, but once he’s managed it, he
lifts it up to Jiyong’s lips. “Come on, baby. Drink.”

Obediently, Jiyong puts his lips on the bottle’s rim and lets Seunghyun help him drink. Seunghyun
chuckles when a stray trail of water trickles down the side of Jiyong’s chin, but Seunghyun has the
bottle in one hand and Jiyong in the other, so the only thing left for him to do is lean in and clean
up the water with his mouth. Jiyong giggles and rubs his chin against Seunghyun’s face.

Seunghyun doesn’t bother recapping the bottle; he wants easy access to it for when Jiyong wants
another drink. He just sets it aside and grabs the package of rice crackers next, shaking one out of
the plastic.

He holds the cracker in front of Jiyong’s mouth. “Bite?” Jiyong takes a tiny bite, but Seunghyun
looks at him pointedly and reoffers the cracker, so Jiyong rolls his eyes and finishes it off.
Seunghyun wipes a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb.

Jiyong smiles softly at him. “See? You’re still just as gentle.”

Jiyong’s tone is teasing, but it winds up being exactly what Seunghyun needs to hear. Because
whatever primal thoughts he has while Jiyong is under his hands, that’s not all there is to him.
This new side they’ve unearthed didn’t come in and take over, didn’t replace what was already
there. At the core of it, Seunghyun is still the same; he wants to protect Jiyong and make him
happy. He wants to take care of him. As he strokes his way across Jiyong’s skin, he reminds
Jiyong of that. Reminds himself.
Seunghyun’s having a small party over at his house, and a couple of the usual suspects show up.
He’s been busy in the kitchen serving drinks and making snacks, but he’s kept one eye on Jiyong
all night. He always seems to be doing that, lately. It stems from this new sense of protectiveness
he has. And possessiveness, if Seunghyun’s being honest. He thinks it’s a side effect of the new
facet of their relationship.

Seungho’s hijacked the music for the evening, and he and Chaerin are dancing in the middle of the
floor, singing loudly along with Rihanna about chains and whips while Jiyong doubles over with
laughter and Soohyuk shakes his head at them.

By the time the song’s over, Seunghyun is heading into the living room, drink in hand, but their
new topic of conversation stops him in his tracks.

“So, Jiyong…” Chaerin doesn’t slur, but it’s a near thing. “Did Seunghyun take the hint? Any
chains or whips in the bedroom now?”

None of the others have noticed him yet so he hangs back to see what Jiyong will say. But Jiyong
doesn’t say anything to that. He just blushes and giggles, already buzzed off Seunghyun’s wine.

Soohyuk takes a deep pull from his beer and chips in, “I can only imagine what Seunghyun would
do if you gave him a whip. Probably play cowboy with the rest of his toys.”

Jiyong giggles, and Seunghyun shakes his head, caught somewhere between amused and miffed.
Traitor.

“It’s such a shame,” Chaerin laments. “He’d make such a hot Dom. With those eyes and that body
and that voice.” She lowers her own voice, to imitate him, Seunghyun realizes. “You’ve been
such a bad girl. Oppa needs to punish you.” And then she grins, so fucking pleased with herself.
“Yeah? Am I right? That would be totally hot.”

Jiyong scowls at her. “Why are you fantasizing about my boyfriend?”

She shrugs and smiles through Jiyong’s displeasure. “The rest of the world does it. Why can’t I?”

Seunghyun should probably interrupt before Jiyong gets in too big of a snit over that. He heads
over and sinks down into the cushion beside Jiyong and stretches his arm along the back of the
couch behind Jiyong’s head. Jiyong settles back against him, mollified.

Everyone else goes quiet now that Seunghyun’s there, making it ridiculously obvious that they
were just talking about him. He takes a sip of his wine and lets them stew and then casually tells
them, “You know, I don’t really like whips much. They’re hard to control. You can really hurt
someone if you’re not careful. I much prefer a riding crop.”

Jiyong goes scarlet, and Soohyuk chokes on his drink.

Chaerin’s eyes light up. “Kwon Jiyong. You tell me everything right now.”

Jiyong looks over at him, speechless, but Seunghyun just gives him an innocent look. He’d feel
bad except it wasn’t that long ago that Jiyong sat there and let these people tease him about being
too vanilla, so Seunghyun figures they’re even, now.
Chaerin looks absolutely giddy. “Is he a hot Dom? I knew he’d be a hot Dom. Tell me if he’s a
hot Dom.”

But Jiyong just buries his embarrassed face in his hands. “Stop talking.”

Seungho, who hasn’t had much of a reaction yet, gives Seunghyun an impressed look and slowly
starts clapping his hands. Jiyong groans and hides away in Seunghyun’s chest. “I hate you all.”

But Seunghyun drapes his arm more fully around Jiyong’s shoulders, and Jiyong relaxes against
him, and all is forgiven.

The next time Jiyong comes over, he’s the one who pulls out the gloves. “Make me yours.”

The words are enough to make Seunghyun’s whole body shudder. But before he sets about doing
that, there’s something he needs to say, a confession he needs to make. “I love you.”

Jiyong blinks in surprise. “You’ve never said that before.”

Seunghyun sighs. “I know. But I figured now would be a good time.” He takes Jiyong’s hand in
his. “I just need you to know, no matter what happens, no matter what I do when the gloves are
on, I do love you.”

It’s not much of a confession because surely Jiyong must’ve known, but he still gazes up at
Seunghyun with happiness in his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Seunghyun nods, releasing him so Jiyong can slide the gloves on him. Jiyong takes special care
with them, gives them each a gentle tug up Seunghyun’s wrists. He brings one of Seunghyun’s
hands up and brushes his lips over the leather.

Seunghyun lets him press his lips to the glove one more time before clutching a fistful of hair at
the back of Jiyong’s head. He holds him still as he shoves their mouths together and fucks into
him with his tongue. Jiyong goes pliant against him, curving his body to fit the mold of
Seunghyun’s.

“I’m going to tear you apart,” Seunghyun swears.

Jiyong surrenders his mouth to him, the same way he surrenders everything else. “ Yes.”

When Jiyong goes under this time, Seunghyun’s ready for it. He gets his back propped up at the
head of the bed, Jiyong cradled in his lap, and wraps the blanket around them like a cocoon.
Seunghyun rocks him through the height of it, keeps him anchored while he’s too far gone to
anchor himself, and the whole time, Jiyong stares up at him with dazed, loving eyes.

Seunghyun caresses Jiyong’s face with one gloved hand and feels the way the whole world
narrows down just to them.
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