Chapter 20: Tease and Claim
The leather belt was cool and supple in Hyukjae’s hands.He stood by the side of the bed, watching Donghae watch him. The city’s neon halo painted Donghae’s bare chest in streaks of blue and red, highlighting the rapid rise and fall of his ribs.
“Give me your hands,” Hyukjae said, his voice low.Donghae didn’t hesitate. He lifted his wrists, crossing them obediently above his head against the sleek black headboard. His eyes, wide and dark, held a challenge wrapped in pure submission. Hyukjae looped the belt, pulling it tight enough to bite, but not to hurt.He buckled it with a decisive click.
“You trust me?” Hyukjae asked, though he already knew the answer. It was in the way Donghae’s breathing hitched, not with fear, but with anticipation.
“With my life,” Donghae breathed, the words sounding like a sacred vow in the silent room.
Hyukjae reached for the silver tie discarded from earlier, a slash of silk on the floor. He folded it, then brought it over Donghae’s eyes. The fabric whispered against his skin as Hyukjae tied a secure knot at the back of his head. Blindfolded, Donghae’s other senses seemed to flare. His head turned slightly, tracking Hyukjae’s movement as he stepped back.Hyukjae took his time. He unbuttoned his own shirt, letting it slide from his shoulders to pool on the floor.The air was cool against his skin. He undid his jeans, the zip loud in the quiet, and pushed them down along with his briefs, kicking them aside. He stood naked at the foot of the bed, a silhouette against the vast window.
Donghae’s cock lay thick and flushed against his stomach, a bead of clear pre-cum already glistening at the tip. His hips gave a minute, involuntary jerk.
“You look desperate,” Hyukjae said, his tone clinical as he climbed onto the mattress.He didn’t go to him immediately. Instead, he crawled up the length of Donghae’s body, the sheets whispering under his knees, until he straddled Donghae’s chest.He could feel the heat radiating from him, the fast beat of his heart.
Hyukjae reached behind himself, fingers finding the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He slicked his fingers, then worked them between his own cheeks, preparing himself with quick, practiced motions.He was already loose, still tender from earlier, but the stretch was a familiar burn. He added more lube, letting it drip down onto Donghae’s straining cock.
Then he positioned himself. He lifted his hips, guiding Donghae’s length so the broad, wet head nudged against his hole. He rubbed himself along the shaft, a slow, filthy drag that made Donghae arch off the bed with a choked gasp.
“Hyukjae—fuck—please—”
“Please what?” Hyukjae teased, circling the tip, letting it catch just on the edge before pulling away again.“Please let me in. God, please, princess, I need to be inside you. I need it.” Donghae’s voice was ragged, stripped of all its usual charm.It was raw need.It was perfect.
Satisfied, Hyukjae finally relented. He used one hand to guide Donghae’s cock, steadying it as he began to sink down. The initial stretch was breathtaking, a sharp, full ache that forced a long, low moan from his own throat. He took it slowly, agonizingly so, descending inch by inch until he was fully seated, Donghae buried to the hilt inside him.For a moment, neither moved. Hyukjae savored the feeling of utter fullness, the slight tremble in Donghae’s bound arms, the choked sound of his breathing.Then he began to move.
He rode him hard, setting a punishing rhythm that made the bedframe creak in protest. His thighs burned with the effort, lifting and dropping, each downward slam forcing a grunt from Donghae. The slap of skin on skin was obscenely loud. Hyukjae let his head fall back, his own cock bouncing, leaking with each deep drive.
“You feel so good,” Hyukjae chanted, his voice breaking on the words.“So deep.You’re always so deep in me. Fuck, Donghae.”
Donghae’s responses were reduced to animalistic groans and desperate, fractured pleas. “Yes—more—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”
Hyukjae’s control began to fray, the pleasure coiling too tight, too fast. His movements became less rhythmic, more frantic, chasing his own end.The tension snapped. His orgasm ripped through him violently, his back arching as he came untouched, stripes of white painting Donghae’s stomach and chest. His inner muscles clenched rhythmically around Donghae’s cock, milking him.The intense, pulsating tightness was all it took. Donghae roared, a raw, guttural sound, as his hips bucked up off the bed, held down only by Hyukjae’s weight. Hyukjae felt the hot, liquid rush fill him, pulse after pulse, and he rode it out until Donghae was spent, collapsing back onto the sheets, utterly boneless.
Hyukjae slumped forward, his trembling arms giving out, his forehead coming to rest on Donghae’s pounding chest. They were both slick with sweat and come, breathing in ragged, shattered unison. After a few moments, Hyukjae pushed himself up, his body protesting. He reached behind Donghae’s head and undid the knot of the tie, letting it fall away.
Donghae’s eyes were blown black, pupils swallowing the brown. They were unfocused for a second, then found Hyukjae’s face.His lips were swollen, parted.He looked utterly ruined.
Hyukjae leaned down, their mouths a breath apart. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the words a seal on everything that had just happened.
A slow, dazed smile spread across Donghae’s face.“Yeah.I am.” He strained against the belt. “Now untie me so I can kiss you properly.And clean us up. You’re a mess, princess.”
Hyukjae huffed a weak laugh, but complied, unbuckling the belt. As soon as his hands were free, Donghae’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him down into a deep, languid kiss that tasted of salt and exhaustion and possession.
Later, clean and tangled in the fresh silk sheets, Donghae traced idle patterns on Hyukjae’s back.“So. Dinner with Hyohyeon. This weekend?”
The domesticity of the question jarred against the raw intensity of minutes before.Hyukjae turned his head on the pillow to look at him. “You’re actually serious.”
“I told you. I’ll be sincere.” Donghae’s fingers stilled.“She matters to you.Therefore, she matters. It’s simple.”
Nothing about them was simple, but Hyukjae let the statement hang in the warm, dark air. The reality of it—his sister at this table, Donghae in an apron, the three of them sharing a meal—felt more daunting than any body-check, more exposing than any fuck. It was a different kind of surrender.
“Okay,” Hyukjae said, the word final.“This weekend.”
Donghae nodded, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Outside, the silent city glittered, a sheet of ice waiting for morning. For now, the only world that existed was the warm span of this bed, and the terrifying, exhilarating promise of what came next.
For now, the only world that existed was the warm span of this bed, and the terrifying, exhilarating promise of what came next. Donghae’s fingers were still tracing his spine, but the touch shifted, turning purposeful. He rolled Hyukjae onto his back with a gentle insistence that wasn’t gentle at all. “I’m not done,” Donghae murmured, his voice thick.
He kissed him, deep and consuming, as he hooked his hands behind Hyukjae’s knees. He pushed Hyukjae’s legs up and back, spreading him open, pinning him with his own body’s flexibility. The position was brutally exposing. Hyukjae gasped into his mouth, feeling the cool air on his damp, used hole. Donghae’s cock, still half-hard, stirred against his thigh. “You’re so open for me,” Donghae breathed, biting Hyukjae’s lower lip. “I can feel myself leaking out of you.”
He reached for the lube again, slicking himself with a rough, hurried stroke. He guided his cockhead back to Hyukjae’s entrance, which felt loose and sensitive, a slick, twitching ring of muscle. “Look at me,” Donghae commanded, his brown eyes glittering in the low light. Hyukjae did. Donghae pushed in, not with a slow caution, but with one relentless, deep thrust that buried him to the root.
Hyukjae cried out, his back bowing off the sheets. The fullness was overwhelming, a raw, stretching burn that danced right on the edge of pain. Donghae didn’t pause. He set a brutal, pounding rhythm immediately, his hips slamming forward, Hyukjae’s legs locked over his shoulders. Each drive knocked the air from Hyukjae’s lungs. The sound was wet and filthy, a rhythmic slap of skin and the squelch of lube and come. “Fuck, you take it so well,” Donghae grunted, his composure shattered, sweat dripping from his chin onto Hyukjae’s chest.
Hyukjae could only grasp at the sheets, his knuckles white. Pleasure, sharp and electric, zigzagged up his spine from each brutal impact. His own cock, trapped between their bodies, leaked steadily. “Donghae—ah, god—right there, fucking right there!” His voice was a broken shout, lost in the noise of their bodies. Donghae’s pace became erratic, his thrusts losing all finesse, becoming pure, urgent rutting.
“Gonna come,” Donghae choked out, his face a mask of desperate ecstasy. “Gonna fill you up again. You feel it? You feel how fucking deep I am?” His words unraveled Hyukjae completely. The coil in his gut snapped. Hyukjae’s orgasm tore through him with a silent, breathless violence, his cock pulsing jets of come that painted his own stomach and chest. His internal muscles clenched in vicious, rhythmic spasms around Donghae’s shaft.
The intense, milking pressure triggered Donghae’s end. He slammed home one final time, grinding deep, and roared as he emptied himself. Hyukjae felt the hot, liquid rush flood him, a second claiming that left him feeling utterly wrecked and full. Donghae collapsed forward, catching his weight on his forearms, their faces inches apart. They breathed in ragged, shared gasps.
After a long moment, Donghae carefully lowered Hyukjae’s legs, wincing at the stiffness. He slipped out, and Hyukjae felt the distinct, warm trickle of their combined release. Donghae brushed the sweaty hair from Hyukjae’s forehead. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Hyukjae’s voice was hoarse. He was a mess, physically liquefied, but his mind was preternaturally clear. The obsessive hatred from the rink felt like someone else’s memory, burned away in this penthouse. What remained was terrifying in its simplicity.
Donghae returned from the bathroom with a warm cloth. He cleaned Hyukjae with a quiet, thorough care that contrasted violently with the preceding minutes. He cleaned himself, then tossed the cloth aside and gathered Hyukjae against him, pulling the duvet over them. The city’s neon glow painted familiar patterns on the ceiling.
“The dinner,” Hyukjae said into the dark. “Don’t… don’t perform for her. Don’t use that media smile.”
Donghae’s chest rumbled with a low laugh. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” His fingers laced with Hyukjae’s on the sheets. “But I’m not hiding what this is. What you are.”
Hyukjae didn’t ask what that was. He knew. The belt on the headboard, the bite on his shoulder, the come inside him—it was all a single, brutal declaration. He closed his eyes, listening to Donghae’s heartbeat steady into sleep. The promise of the next day, of his sister’s sharp eyes missing nothing, loomed like a cliff edge. But here, in the warm, spent dark, he allowed himself to float.