Chapter Text
“This is embarrassing,” Taekjoo huffed through clenched teeth. His arms flexed behind his back, wrists bound by strips of red velvet that sat bright against his tan skin. The ribbon cut into the meat of his hands, the sharpness a semi-painful reminder of who had tied them—who controlled his movement.
The red of the ribbon matched the growing flush spreading up Taekjoo’s back to his craned neck, reflecting the arousal mingling with shame.
He scowled as his lips pursed, cheek squished against the pillow. His body shivered, naked and bare under hungry eyes that he couldn’t see. But the ice in those eyes insisted that he stay still so that they might devour him. He ignored the smirk spread across pale lips because if he looked, it would either piss him off or turn him on. He wasn’t sure which would be better, but he was thankful his growing erection was hidden between the bed sheets and his belly.
He had woken to Zhenya’s warm touch tracing over his skin. At first, it was welcomed, soft, and comfortable, a touch he knew well and craved. He had hummed happily and leaned into it. But as those deft fingers became more possessive and his intentions more clear, Taekjoo’s muscles had jumped as anticipation swirled in his gut. It was a mixture of excitement, fear, and desire, leaving each nerve feeling raw.
Zhenya had rolled Taekjoo onto his stomach, thighs straddling his lower back as he pinned him down. He was wearing loose sweats that barely hid his own excitement, the fabric soft as it kissed Taekjoo’s bare skin. It wasn’t fair that Zhenya was clothed and he wasn’t. He always played dirty.
Zhenya’s large hands had made quick work, tying Taekjoo’s wrists back before he could fully wake up and resist. He had still squirmed despite Zhenya’s instructions not to move.
And now that he was fully awake, fully hard against the sheets, he tugged at his restraints to no avail. They forced his shoulders back, forearms parallel as his wrists kissed, secured with thick ribbon tied off in a velvet bow. It wrapped around his bulging biceps, connecting his forearms in an intricate design that Zhenya seemed to take his time with.
Zhenya stood, admiring his work, saying nothing. But his breathing hitched, becoming a little heavier and a little quicker. It made Taekjoo’s chest swell with pride despite him having zero say in the matter. The reaction was still because of him, and he liked that.
Zhenya stood just out of Taekjoo’s peripheral, his anxiety rising when he couldn’t see what was happening behind him. He tried to roll onto his back but then a large hand was there, holding him still. He huffed impatiently. It was too early for such antics.
“I’ve decided,” Zhenya murmured low and amused. The drop in his register shot through Taekjoo, pulling something tight from his chest into his stomach as he tried to hide his face.
Taekjoo huffed, annoyed and hot. “Decided what?” It was muffled and almost weak. He chewed his lip to distract himself.
“What I want.” Taekjoo could hear the smirk lacing his words. Desire dripped from each syllable as his hand smoothed over his back, sliding to cup the firm muscles of his ass, squeezing his cheek before spreading them. A thumb rubbed circles, inching closer to Taekjoo’s entrance, a chuckle coming from behind as he unwillingly twitched beneath the touch. His hole puckered as Zhenya’s thumb teased, never actually pressing in. “As my gift.”
Taekjoo suddenly regretted having asked him the night before.
With Christmas approaching, he had wanted to do something special, something small but noncommittal for Zhenya. He knew material things were all but useless, as the man could buy himself whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He had anticipated some sort of outing, like the ones regular couples enjoyed together during the holidays.
Zhenya was far from regular, and they certainly weren’t an ordinary couple.
But this? This was not what he had meant. Though in hindsight, it was probably all Zhenya would actually want.
Perverted bastard.
Taekjoo wriggled his hips, trying to escape Zhenya’s commanding touch. Unfortunately, Zhenya read the movement as an invitation, as a challenge, because then his hand tugged up Taekjoo’s wide hips, pushing all his weight into his cheek and chest, breath hot against the bedsheets. Pale hands were strong on his thighs, spreading them apart. They were quick before Taekjoo could catch on, his knees suddenly bent, ankles now bound by something soft and tight, matching the design layered over his arms and wrists.
The sudden shift in position forced air from Taekjoo’s chest, getting caught in a strangled moan he almost choked on. Humiliation mounted, the feeling only pushing blood south as he gave another tug on his ties.
“What the fuck are you doing?” It punched out of him as he struggled against his restraints, the ribbon digging into his ankles slightly, now connecting to the bows on his wrists. He felt more of the fabric being strung across his muscles, the drag tantalizing against the skin of his thighs as Zhenya’s fingers trailed above his knees, pressing his hamstrings to his calves, each tied off with a bright red bow.
“Wrapping my present.”
“Fucking bastard,” Taekjoo hissed. He felt too vulnerable like this.
Taekjoo was spread wide, tied up like some wild animal beneath its captor. He was helpless and defenseless and shit if that didn’t excite him even more. He shifted his head, only pushing weight onto his face with an annoyed grunt. Zhenya, whose hands were somehow gentle with their work, moved his limbs into position as he pleased, making sure Taekjoo’s ass was on full display for him to appreciate. Taekjoo’s body was painted in rosy hues, complementing the red of the ribbon. He was thankful he couldn’t see himself like this otherwise, he feared, he’d die of embarrassment.
But Taekjoo wasn’t resisting. Not really. His occasional pull was more to test the limits of his binds than deny the act of being restrained. He knew better. When Zhenya was like this, changing his mind was nearly impossible.
“Too tight?” Zhenya’s voice was surprisingly soft at his ear, a momentary check in before he really got started. His index finger fit beneath the ribbon, pulling slightly at the give to make sure they were loose enough. These small moments reminded Taekjoo just how aching Zhenya was for him, to please him, to pleasure him, despite his uncaring demeanor and semi-sadistic tendencies.
Taekjoo tried to shake his head, but it forced his shoulders backwards, ankles pulling the ribbon tight as they hung from his wrists, only spreading his legs wider.
“Use your words, Taekjoo.” Zhenya reminded him, a large hand steadying his waist until he acclimated to the position, finding a rhythm to his breathing. It anchored him, both his touch and his tone.
“M’fine,” Taekjoo barely managed, head foggy with lust as his body reacted to Zhenya’s caress. His cock twitched, betraying his noncompliance.
Taekjoo couldn’t hide his excitement. His erection hung heavy between his open legs, precome dripping lewdly from his tip onto the rumpled sheets. He couldn't hide anything from Zhenya’s knowing gaze, especially in this obscene position, limbs restrained to leave him wanting and waiting.
Pink covered his back, heat filling his chest, his stomach, the veins running along his strained limbs, down his cock. He hated how it felt to be completely and utterly at Zhenya’s mercy, restrained and immobile—hated that his body liked it.
Taekjoo liked control. He preferred to be in charge. In every aspect of his life, he held power. He had to. It wasn’t a choice but his responsibility as a man, as a son, as an agent. Except for the occasional surprise at work or the commands he followed, how he handled his missions was usually up to his discretion, under his control. In his personal life, he maintained that same authority, at least he had before he met Zhenya.
Because with Zhenya—with Zhenya, that control began to crumble. Every fuck was a fight for domination that always ended with Taekjoo beneath him, bent to his will. Eventually, the feeling was anticipated and welcomed, occasionally challenged and reversed, but rarely.
Zhenya was his match, a man who found ways to control Taekjoo, to drive him into submission, not against his will, but according to it. That occasional relinquishing, that rare capitulation, brought a sense of assurance, provided Taekjoo surrendered. He could turn off his busy brain and let Zhenya take the reins, take control. He could follow Zhenya’s lead and be rewarded with the purest ecstasy.
Taekjoo hated how much he loved giving in and giving up and getting railed.
“Don’t forget to use your words.” Another firm reminder, pulling that embarrassing heat through Taekjoo’s gut, tying it in knots like the ribbon. Then deft fingers tugged his bindings, testing the fastenings. Taekjoo appreciated Zhenya providing an out, though he never took it.
“Zhenya,” it was a broken sigh that slid from clenched teeth, a plea as the blonde’s grip forced his knees wider. He swallowed a moan, defiant and unwilling to give in just yet.
“You look so pretty all wrapped up for me, Taekjoo.” Zhenya’s fingers traced over the ribbon, fingering where his ankles met his wrists. He pulled hard, forcing Taekjoo upwards and back, chest off the bed, suspended from his restraints, weight only held up on weak knees, completely reliant on Zhenya’s grasp. He shivered as that angelic face came into view, hiding his sinful inclinations. His features were sharp, demanding attention. Taekjoo was unable to look away.
Those lips, pink and thin, barely hiding a smirk of approval. Taekjoo wanted to bite them, make them bleed, make him suffer the same sort of embarrassment Taekjoo was feeling. But reversing their roles didn’t feel quite right. Somehow, this did.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he racked his brain for a response, but all he could find was muddled arousal clouding his thoughts. It pushed a pathetic sound from his lips as he felt the ribbon digging into his flesh. It seared, pain prickling his senses. But pleasure laced beneath it and his eyes met Zhenya’s—shit, those blues were like liquid fire ready to set him aflame—and Taekjoo fucking whimpered, lip caught between his teeth.
Zhenya fully smirked; those pathetic little sounds only egging him on. He looked over Taekjoo, eyes hungry as they admired the sight: his body coerced into the precarious position Zhenya chose, forcing him to be passive, docile, like cornered prey. Watching his occasional resistance, the slight pull of his wrists or shift in his hips made Zhenya want to press him harder, break him in until he was grateful.
His eyes were cold, scrutinizing the arch of Taekjoo’s back as his shoulders were pulled, his trembling thighs decorated with bow beneath tethered ankles, all by Zhenya’s design. He noticed Taekjoo’s throbbing cock, hung heavy and needy and undeniably hard.
“Are you enjoying this, Taekjoo?” His words were like a blade cutting through his arousal, a superficial cut that forced it to bubble over. It only reminded Taekjoo of how painfully hard he was and how he was desperate for any sort of stimulation.
“No.” It was a lie that stuttered through clenched teeth, brown eyes warmed with desire. It sounded more like a moan of relief as Zhenya lowered him back to the bed.
Zhenya moved just out of his line of sight, and suddenly, a fingertip was tapping at his dick, teasing the tip. It slid through leaking precome, smearing it down the underside of his glans. A clean nail traced around the head before pressing at his slit, a sharp inhale caught in Taekjoo’s throat.
“Answer me.” His thumb brushed underneath, just enough pressure to feel good but still not enough. Taekjoo knew the only way to get what he wanted was to give in. But doing so was the hardest part. It was like admitting defeat, even though the pleasure he gained was always worth it.
It was also more fun to push back.
Taekjoo tried to rock his hips into Zhenya’s touch, but then his fingers were gone, and a hand was coming down hard on his ass.
“Yes,” Taekjoo bit out, chest heavy as he struggled to breathe. His whole body pushed forward from the force of Zhenya’s open palm, nipples rubbed by the sheets. “I…” But Taekjoo couldn’t finish his sentence, couldn’t admit he liked it.
Still, Taekjoo was rewarded, Zhenya’s hand wrapping around his length with a slow, agonizing stroke. He keened at the stimulation, debating giving in for more. He realized soon that the stimulation wasn’t a reward but a punishment, too slow and too loose to lessen the building pressure inside.
“Go on,” Zhenya instructed, voice raw and unrelenting, hand around his cock slow and steady and excruciating. It pulled that heat tight in Taekjoo’s gut, the pleasure wrapping around him like his bindings, spreading goosebumps along his skin. He was tense, only focused on finding some sort of release for that mounting need.
Taekjoo swallowed his moan, reluctant to give Zhenya the satisfaction. But his touch was searing, hot and tight and not enough.
“Is that… all you got?” Taekjoo managed before immediately regretting it because Zhenya’s fingers fell away. The lost sensation was almost painful.
Deft fingers returned with a strip of ribbon, tying a bow at the base of his shaft, just above his balls, ensuring Taekjoo’s release was reliant on Zhenya allowing it. Then strong fingers were fisting in his brown hair. The tug raised his cheek off the bed, his chest taking the brunt of his weight as his nipples chafed.
Taekjoo couldn’t bite back his pleasured sigh or hide his defiant grin at the reaction he had hoped for.
“Oh, Taekjoo.” Zhenya’s voice was rough, and then two long fingers were in his mouth pressing onto his tongue and sliding back towards his throat until he gagged on their intrusion. “You never listen.” He curled his fingers, eliciting another choked sound as they slid against his tongue. “Get them nice and wet if you don’t want to hurt.”
Taekjoo found himself closing his lips around those digits, tonguing between them, along knuckles and the webbing where they met. They pulled out suddenly, and Taekjoo coughed but hid it with a broken laugh, his last bit of control about to slip away with his next words.
This was the fun part.
“And what if I do?” His words were a challenge, a raspy dare for Zhenya to give him his worst.
A mirthless chuckle and Zhenya’s hand was gone from his hair, the warmth of his body suddenly absent.
“You’re such a fucking brat,” Zhenya’s voice came from behind him, incredulous, threatening. Taekjoo shivered.
His cheek rubbed against the sheets as he tried to turn his head, eyes scanning around for Zhenya. But he wasn’t there. He strained to listen for his footsteps, but it was silent, except for Taekjoo’s hitched breathing. He tried a deeper breath, anticipation clawing at his throat, tightening his chest and electrifying his skin. His cock twitched, his hole clenched. He couldn’t stop thinking about just how empty he still was.
Still, Taekjoo found a fucked grin spread across his lips as he licked them. “Do something about it.”
And then fingers were inside him, pushing against his resistance two at a time. It fucking burned just as Taekjoo had expected, and he tightened around the intrusion, dark lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled back.
“Fuck,” the sound punched out of him, a strangled cry he immediately hid by tucking his face deeper into the pillow, his chest heaving hard to catch his breath as he was stretched open.
Zhenya was relentless, pushing until his first knuckle and then the second was nudging Taekjoo’s tight rim. He pulled them out once he felt the first hint of relaxation before thrusting them back in, setting a brutal and unsteady rhythm Taekjoo couldn’t get accustomed to.
He couldn’t even try to close his legs at the intrusion, couldn’t pull away because Zhenya had his other hand fisting the tight ribbon, holding him in place to take whatever he gave him. And Taekjoo did, he took it all, and it still wasn’t enough. He craved that full feeling, the desire for it clouding his mind with a lecherous haze.
The heat in his gut only pooled, his muscles taut and rigid as he strained against the painful stimulation. But every other thrust, Zhenya would drag his fingertips along that spot inside that pushed every rational thought from Taekjoo’s mind, leaving behind streaks of white.
“Like that,” Taekjoo cried, knowing the only way out was to follow Zhenya’s rules. He’d use his words. He’d play along. But part of him feared it might be too late.
Another firm thrust pushed Taekjoo's body up the bed, nipples sensitive against each graze from the sheets. He licked his lips as they parted, breath falling in heavy pants from his tongue as pleasure mixed with pain, setting his body alight. His defiance was fading, his body succumbing to the traces of pleasure teasing his senses.
Zhenya lifted him by his ties, pushing him towards the edge of the bed as the blonde stepped forward, forcing Taekjoo’s face against his crotch. Zhenya leaned over him, fingers continuing their assault, eyes fixated on the red ribbon flush against olive skin. Taekjoo’s mouth hung open as he panted, the pull on his bindings painful as they dug deeper into his wrists.
“Get to work.” A command from above that Taekjoo was following, teeth dragging along the grey fabric of sweatpants, finding the waistband to tug it down.
It was awkward, his shoulders hunched back as Zhenya lifted him just enough off the bed so he could move his neck, and then hot sticky skin pressed at his cheek, Zhenya’s impressive length finally freed, angry, demanding his attention.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Zhenya’s voice dropped lower, a third finger pushing past Taekjoo’s rim and into his tight heat. He swallowed hard.
Taekjoo didn’t dare make him ask again, wet lips kissing up Zhenya’s length, tongue tracing the bulging vein that led to his cockhead. It wasn’t pretty, it was messy and desperate as Taekjoo’s body all but swung between Zhenya’s fingers and his cock, his knees the only point of contact with the bed as his upper body was suspended from his bindings. He was held up by red ribbon, wrapping him up as some sinful present for Zhenya’s taking: a toy for him to play with.
Fuck, if that didn’t melt away the last of his resistance.
Taekjoo breathed quickly through his nose before his lips wrapped around Zhenya’s cock, tongue eager at his already leaking tip. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, blanketing his senses as that deep musk filled his nose. It was rich smoke and honeyed liquor and sweat and him.
Zhenya fed him his cock and fingers, inch by inch, drilling him from both ends as Taekjoo hung there, forced to take it all. And he did.
His lips wrapped tight as his cheeks hollowed, tongue massaging the length bruising his palate, pressing deeper into his throat. Coarse hairs tickled Taekjoo’s chin as Zhenya bottomed out, balls smacking his face.
Taekjoo felt used; he felt helpless, but his cock jumped, bulging against the confines of red ribbon, because this treatment was exactly what he wanted.
He moaned around the length, throat fluttering as Zhenya scissored the fingers inside him, pressing at the wet velvet walls that succumbed under each touch. Zhenya reached in with another press against that bundle of nerves and Taekjoo was a mess, choking on muffled sounds spilling out around Zhenya’s girth as the man began to fuck his throat.
Tears brimmed under brown lashes and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations as he struggled to breathe in through his nose.
It was pleasure surging in his gut, running through his veins to each limb as fingers worked him open, teasing intimate areas that drove him mad. It was a sudden sense of panic as he couldn’t breathe, thick cock so far down his throat he convulsed around it. It was pain, as ribbons cut into his skin where it bound him to Zhenya, to his every whim.
And fuck it was all so good. His own cock dripped against his stomach, desperate for release, hindered by the bow tying it off.
“Hold it.” Zhenya knew what he wanted but wasn’t going to give it, at least not yet. Taekjoo groaned at the command, abs tightening as he clenched around the fingers pummeling his insides.
Zhenya set an unrelenting pace, allowing hardly any chance for Taekjoo to catch his breath. He’d stroke his prostate once, twice, then change the angle to leave Taekjoo frantic for more as his throat would fill with Zhenya’s cock, bulging beneath his jaw.
The sounds filling the room were lewd: wet and squelching. Between the choked moans mangled in Taekjoo’s throat, wet from drool and precome, and the slick thrusts of long fingers, like the maestro orchestrating the salacious symphony—Taekjoo was fucking gone finally yielding to desire.
Taekjoo took it, accepted everything Zhenya gave him, and was ready to thank him for it. His shame was gone, replaced with the insatiable thirst for more.
But then he found himself overstimulated, Zhenya allowing no chance to breathe, and his lungs were tightening, desperate for air. The muscles in his throat jerked, Zhenya’s cock throbbing as it pounded into him. Taekjoo lost track of how long Zhenya had just been using him, the uneven distribution of both pleasure and pain each time he felt himself getting close, becoming almost too much. If it weren’t for the ribbon tied around his dick, he’d have come by now.
Taekjoo’s head grew cloudy as he choked, nearing his limit with nowhere for his release to go. His vision swam as spit and precome dribbled down his chin, stomach a tight knot of pain and pleasure, searing his every nerve ending.
His fingers reached up, searching for Zhenya, brushing against his wrist. Before he could give a quick tap tap, he could suddenly breathe—Zhenya knowing his body a little too well—allowing sweet air to fill Taekjoo’s strained lungs, his chest expanding as he choked on the sudden oxygen.
Taekjoo’s head felt light, dizzy with desire, and then he was empty from both ends and panting out disappointed sounds, wet lashes fluttering as he looked up at the man playing with him like some shiny new Christmas toy. Wet fingers gripped his jaw, forcing it open as he panted, brown eyes unfocused beneath long lashes as he found a fucked smile on his own spit-slicked lips. He was a mess of pathetic sounds as he caught his breath.
“Taekjoo,” it was a hitched breath, both profanity and prayer.
Then thick ropes of come were splashing across his cheek, onto his eyelids and his sweat-slicked hair. He tasted it on his tongue, bitter and salty and somehow delicious. A broken moan from the man above sent his need spiralling even more, his hips bucking forward desperately. Taekjoo’s tongue lolled out to catch what he could, eyes fluttering closed as Zhenya painted him with his hot release.
Then he was trying to make sense as the world suddenly was tilting back, and he was resting upright on his shins. A hungry mouth was on his, stealing back the breath he had been gifted. Zhenya’s tongue was wide and hot against his own, tasting the come Taekjoo had caught before moving to his jaw, teeth sinking into his flesh.
Taekjoo had given up on biting back his moans, too focused on fighting for air. And the broken sounds he was making should have embarrassed him, but Zhenya was devouring each one, his hands smoothing over the planes of Taekjoo’s tanned body. They held his waist, an almost tender touch, then his taut shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tired muscles still pulled tight by ribbon.
“You took me so well,” it was praise, and Taekjoo opened his eyes, searching for those reassuring blues and when he found them, hungry and proud, Taekjoo was returning fervent kisses, biting at Zhenya’s flushed lips for more.
His hips were frenzied, hardly able to move but still searching for something to rut his pained cock against.
“A little longer,” Zhenya answered his plea. “You can do it.” The encouragement made him warm, breath steadying. “You will.”
A thumb pressed over Taekjoo’s closed eyelid, then across his cheek, catching come and tears before pressing at his lips, feeding it back to him. A low growl rumbled inside Zhenya’s inked chest, vibrating with approval as Taekjoo licked the fluid off his thumb.
Taekjoo was above begging, but like this, under Zhenya’s unrelenting gaze and all-too-tender touches, it was hard not to. It came out as “Zhenya,” instead of please.
“Hmm?” Zhenya feigned ignorance, dipping low to suck at his chest, covering his muscles in bites and bruises as one hand smoothed over his hip, fingers splaying over his ass cheek. He squeezed. His instructions from earlier repeated on his lips, trailing along sweaty skin before teeth teased at a brown bud protruding from Taekjoo’s abused chest. “Use your words and ask.”
Taekjoo struggled, caught between utter submission and spitting out one last retaliation. His stubbornness chose the latter, chest puffed out with the last of his pride.
It wasn’t as firm as Taekjoo had hoped, instead breathy and broken and completely depraved. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
It was Taekjoo’s last challenge, his last provocation, using himself as prey dangled in front of the predator, waiting for Zhenya to bite.
And he did, hard, teeth sinking into the flesh of Taekjoo’s pec. A mangled moan fell from the brunnete’s lips because he knew he was completely and utterly fucked.