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On Jeongin’s twelfth birthday, he was assigned a guard. It was also when he started getting involved in his father’s work.
He always knew his father was a bad man. Jeongin had been homeschooled, but even he knew that it was unusual for children to be raised more by staff than their parents. His mother was a sweet woman, she just didn’t live very long– and to no fault of her own. She didn’t seem to have the same survival instincts that Jeongin and his father had. Maybe that was how she ended up carrying the child of one of Korea’s most notorious gang leaders.
Despite his upbringing, the first time he watched someone die was jarring. The sound of the blood gurgling as it misted from the gash in their windpipe was enough to make him vomit. He tried to hold it in, which only led to him covering his own shirt in it. Thankfully, his father didn’t berate him for it, he just patted him on the shoulder and sent him off to get changed.
Two days a week were spent with his father at the warehouse, until he turned sixteen. His father was dead set on Jeongin becoming the heir to his position, and Jeongin really couldn’t have cared less. He wasn’t fond of killing people, or flaunting his power, or dealing with sleazy old men who had too much money and confidence. But it gave him something to do.
No matter what, his father kept a guard by his side. Even after Jeongin learned fifty different ways to kill someone and make it look like a suicide, there was always someone behind him with a desert eagle tucked on their side. That was one thing that did bother him.
He liked privacy, he liked autonomy, and he liked being trusted. A personal guard felt like his father was laughing in his face. Jeongin was a good son, always following his father’s wishes, training hard, keeping his reputation clean– he just couldn’t stop tormenting his guards.
Every time he got a new one, he would test their limits. He would sneak out at night and purposely get hurt so he could blame their incompetence. He would spill his breakfast on the floor and threaten to kill himself if they didn’t clean it up. He would light their belongings on fire and force them to take cold showers.
He never felt much remorse over it either. The guards never saw him as human, he was just a job they had to do. So, Jeongin treated them the same.
That was, until Jisung.
Han Jisung was assigned to his guard sometime between Jeongin’s eighteenth and nineteenth birthdays. Jisung couldn’t have been much older than him, a small kid with big round eyes and fat cheeks. The kind of resting dumb expression that looked like he cried when he saw roadkill.
A thousand methods of torture flashed through Jeongin’s mind when their eyes met. He would have him running with his tail tucked between his legs within the week.
Except, when their eyes met, Jisung visibly blushed.
All his other guards were old burly men, typically with wives or loved ones. They hardly gave Jeongin a second thought. It was expected that he would be viewed as either a job, or a child, or both. Jeongin didn’t know what to do with himself, seeing Jisung stumble over his words and wring his wrists.
It all got worse when he saw Jisung in action. Because he wasn’t some bumbling, softhearted loser whose favorite genre was rom-coms and saved bugs instead of smashing them. Not even close. It was like a flip was switched.
There was no hesitation, no remorse or guilt or second-guessing. It’s like his gut instinct was to kill. The problem was that Jisung was the kind of guy to help turtles cross the street, but as soon as there was a threat, Jisung had already slit the man’s throat and loaded him into the car without flinching.
It was memorizing yet incredibly infuriating.
He was stuck watching someone who could kill twenty men in ten minutes, get all nervous and scratchy when Jeongin stated he didn’t like his morning cereal. What kind of weak minded imbecile with that kind of strength and power resigned himself to such a menial task as watching over Jeongin?
Jeongin still tortured Jisung, but in a different way. It was less for his amusement and more exploratory. He would see how long he could get Jisung to kneel by his bed while he read his book at night. He would call him into the bathroom because he “forgot his clothes” just to see Jisung flounder about at the idea of being in the same room as Jeongin, who was naked behind the curtain.
It was incredibly entertaining yet very, very pathetic. Because he quickly found out that for whatever reason, Jisung would do anything for him. No hesitation, no questions asked. He never told Jeongin “No” out right, even if that meant doing absurd or uncomfortable things. If Jeongin had tortured him the same way he had tortured the other guards, Jisung probably would have endured it, maybe even thanked him for it.
And throughout it all, Jisung had that stupid fucking crush on him. Maybe that was the whole reason for being so easy and willing. He made no effort to hide it. Sure, it’s not like people could control the way their cheeks flushed, but he didn’t stop even after he was obviously caught staring, and he sometimes would mumble under his breath about Jeongin’s looks in the mornings.
Jeongin had no interest in dating, but he was human after all, and so of course he was interested in sex and intimacy.
They were alone together constantly. Sometimes Jeongin would flirt back with Jisung just to get a rise out of him, lead him on and tempt him. But he did nothing more than laugh it off or bite his lip like it might keep him from doing anything untoward.
It kind of pissed him off that Jisung never tried anything. Someone so obviously infatuated, to the point where Jeongin felt worshipped. There probably wouldn't have been any consequences if they slept together, and he understood why they hadn’t, but Jisung really never tried to feel him up or push his boundaries at all.
The more he pushed, the more flirting he did, the more Jisung pulled back. Jeongin liked being in control, he always wanted to be the one in control. Jisung had no right to deny him in that way. Especially when Jisung obviously wanted him so badly.
It had to come to a head at some point or another.
It was late when they got back to their room. Jeongin wasn’t even allowed to sleep alone— Jisung stayed in a small twin bed tucked in the corner of his large room, something that always irked him. They had spent all day stuck in meetings and traveling. Jisung was still in his sharp suit; Jeongin had peeled his off on the ride home.
They were both spent, which meant it was the perfect time to push Jisung to his limit.
He grabbed Jisung by the collar and threw him to the floor. Jisung’s hands flew up on instinct, but they dropped as soon as he realized it was Jeongin throwing him down. He croaked out a confused sound as he moved to kneel and push himself up, but as soon as he could get his hands under him, Jeongin rolled him over on his back and straddled him.
He knew Jisung would never fight him. Jisung could overpower him without breaking a sweat, but he would never do it, no matter what Jeongin put him through.
His eyes were wide as saucers.
“Jeongin-ah, we really, uh, you should really—getoffmerightnow,” the words flew out of Jisung’s mouth in a jumbled heap, barely understandable, and Jeongin knew exactly why. He had only been atop him for a few seconds and he could feel Jisung’s hard length against his thigh, confined by his tight suit trousers.
He was splayed out under him, red faced and bleary eyed. Between the two of them, Jisung looked like the one who needed protecting, not himself.
“Hyung, are you telling me no?”
His words were saccharine, his sweet tone doing nothing to mask his malicious intent. He knew Jisung could never deny him anything, not even if he wanted to. Maybe this would finally push him to the brink.
Jisung’s lips parted in surprise at the words, and under his thighs, Jeongin could feel him tense up. He began to babble out some excuse, but Jeongin cut him off with a slow roll of his hips, grinding down on the erection trapped between them.
Jeongin watched the wheels in Jisung’s head turn, and he let out a small breath of understanding.
“No! No, never. I would never, Innie. Whatever you want, whatever you need from Hyung, take it. Please.”
His Hyung was so pathetic sometimes. This was the man his father hired to protect him, who could shoot a bird out of a tree from half a mile away blindfolded, slit someone’s throat without even blinking. This was the man that would walk through glass barefoot if Jeongin so wished for it.
Jeongin edged off of him and unzipped his slacks, pushing his briefs down and freeing his hard cock from its constraints. Jisung let out an audible whimper when Jeongin’s nimble fingers gripped his length, gently caressing the sensitive skin.
“Be quiet, Hyung,” His words were barely a whisper as he positioned his cock over his stomach, “and lay still for me.”
He stood, staring down at Jisung with hungry eyes. He looked like the textbook definition of a prey animal. Always, with those big round eyes and puffy cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled his shirt over his head. He let Jisung look for a few moments before slowly unbuttoning his jeans, toeing them off and laying them in a heap beside Jisung’s still body.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he watched Jisung’s eyes go wide, lips parting in surprise to see panties hugging his hips. There was already a wet patch from the minute toying he did with Jisung.
Jisung knew not to touch himself, but he looked like it physically pained him not to as Jeongin discarded his panties on the floor and moved to straddle his hips once again. He nudged Jisung’s shirt up, so he could get a good view of his toned chest and small waist. If anything, he was very pleasing to look at.
“Wait, Innie, we, you—“ Jisung fumbled over his words again, face impossibly red as he stared down at Jeongin’s naked body.
“Save your breath, Hyung. If I want to ride you, I will, it’s not up to you,” It wasn’t his intention to spear himself on Jisung’s cock. Not raw and not when Jisung looked like he was seconds away from coming or throwing up, one of the two. But a little teasing never hurt.
Jisung looked like he might be sick, lips parted like he wanted to say more but he didn’t. His hands flew up to ghost over Jeongin’s hips, and with a silent nod, they clamped down. His touch was featherlight and unsure, like if he squeezed too hard, Jeongin might burst into a million pieces like he took a pin to a balloon.
It felt like a damn breaking loose. Like the inevitable was finally happening.
He moved his hips, and positioned himself above where Jisung’s hard cock laid flat against his stomach.
Then he dropped. His wet pussy squelched against the hot length of his cock. Jisung bit his lip as they met, seething a breath out of his clenched teeth. He rocked his hips, grinding against his cock, sliding his length up his shaft and angling it so his clit pressed against the firmness of him.
That was his plan.
He began to grind his hips down, riding the length of his cock at a slow pace, chasing his own pleasure. He had no idea if it felt good for Jisung, and he really didn’t care, but by the way his nails dug into his hips, he guessed Jisung might actually come from it.
Beneath him, Jisung let out a large breath that sounded close to a whine. Had he been holding his breath?
“H-holy fuck,” Jisung seethed. His hands trembled as he unclenched his nails and made miniscule movements to caress his thighs. Jeongin couldn’t help but smirk at how careful Jisung was being, like any moment he would get yelled at for touching him wrong. He was no stranger to getting yelled at by Jeongin.
He felt so good like this, with Jisung under him, and the grinding created the perfect amount of pressure, making Jeongin twitch and shutter with every drag. It was better than he could have imagined, much better than using his own hand or grinding against his pillow. As he got closer to his climax, the friction eased as his own slick poured out of him, sticking to Jisung’s cock.
The sounds were so lewd. They only grew louder as Jeongin began to buck his hips at a more hurried pace, pushing his clit against the head of his cock for more pressure. More friction, and more pressure. More, more, taking whatever he could from the man under him.
“Fuck, I— Jeongin I can’t,” Jisung breathed out. Sweat dripped down Jeongin’s bare chest and his legs had started to ache. He braced his hands on Jisung’s broad chest and the new angle made him squirm with pleasure, “Wait! Please, please wait Innie—“
“Don’t come. Not yet.” His words were more unsteady than he wanted them to be, “I can’t get myself off on a soft cock, now can I? If you come, what will I do?”
Jisung’s expression was pained, and the tears that welled in his eyes finally slipped down his cheek. Jeongin let his eyelids flutter shut as he rucked against him, every sweet drag of his pussy sending waves of pleasure through his body. It would probably feel good to actually sink down onto Jisung for real. If he doesn’t break him, maybe he sh—
“Ah! I’m, oh no, oh shit. I’m so sorry, ‘s sorry,” the words slurred out of Jisung’s mouth before Jeongin could really process them, all high pitched and whimpering. The cock underneath him twitched, and he looked down just in time to see Jisung shooting white ropes over his stomach.
Jeongin’s hips stilled as he stared, open mouthed.
When their eyes met, they stared at each other for a long time. Jisung’s cock slowly went soft below him, though it was still throbbing, soaked in Jeongin’s pleasure.
Jisung began to cry real tears.
“I’m so sorry, Innie. You just felt, it was just so good. So hot and you’re so hot and I’m so sorry.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Jisung?”
Jisung’s brows were scrunched as he wiped at his tears with the sleeves of his jacket. Then his eyes went wide.
“Oh no! And you didn’t even come. Oh my gosh I’m the worst. I fuck everything up. Okay, shit. And we can’t because I’m covered in cum.” Jisung was speaking a mile a minute, most of his words caught on his stupidly plump lips, falling out nearly incomprehensible.
“You’re more pathetic than I thought, Hyung,” Jeongin sneered and wiped his hand on Jisung’s arm. He stood up, ignoring the wet squelching sound of him lifting his hips off Jisung’s dick that was slowly going soft. Standing over him made him feel powerful, it gave him an adrenaline rush unlike no other. Someone who usually held so much control, crying so pitifully, unable to pull himself off the floor unless Jeongin allowed him to.
He reached forward and placed the ball of his foot against Jisung’s softening erection. Jisung’s eyes went wide. He leaned in, pressing down with a force he knew was painful, and underneath him, Jisung squirmed and let out a pained whimper. “I-Innie! Ah!” His face scrunched up, flashing those gummy teeth in a grimace as Jeongin ground his foot down.
“You should have begged. You should have begged me to let you come but instead you just did it, not caring about me,” He had never felt such power in his life before, and he had watched Jisung strangle men with his bare hands just because they looked at Jeongin wrong. Maybe if he would have done this the moment Jisung started blushing and fumbling around him, things would have been different. Maybe if he would have tormented Jisung from the beginning, like all of his other guards, things would have been different.
He gathered the wetness in his mouth and spit at Jisung’s face. The wet glob slid down his cheek, and Jisung stared up at him, mouth agape in shock.
Jeongin froze.
Under his foot, he could feel Jisung stiffening again. After being spit on, after being called pathetic and a loser, “Are you…? Holy shit, you’re fucking getting hard again from that? I can’t believe you.”
Jeongin turned on his heels, away from the man on the floor.
“W-wait! Where are you going?” His breathless voice squeaked out.
He stilled, only for a moment, but didn’t answer. He bent over to pick up his clothes, slowly, knowing Jisung was behind him, watching him.
And then his knees hit the floor, hands moving just in time to keep his head from smacking against it too. He yelped as he fell, the breath knocked out of him as he felt Jisung’s body collide with his. He hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t expected him to move at all without Jeongin’s permission, but he had, and he had him pinned underneath him.
“What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry, Innie. I’m so sorry. I’ll fix my mistakes, I promise.” His tone heavily contrasted his words, and before Jeongin could respond, he felt Jisung’s hands grip his hips painfully and wrench him up to his knees. His other hand came forward to fist in Jeongin’s hair and pressed his face into the floor, “You never had to do it by yourself, Innie. Hyung could have helped you. Hyung will help you.”
His words were caught in his throat, even more so when he felt Jisung sink two fingers into his wet heat. He curled his fingers immediately, feeling around the soft velvety skin of his insides. The feeling was indescribable, but he didn’t– he needed to be in control. This– with his head pressed painfully to the floor and Jisung’s fingers in his cunt– was not control.
“Wait, Jisung, stop, don–”
“Shhh, shhh. Baby, I’m going to make you come, since you made your Hyung feel so good already. You're so good to your Hyung Innie. Always so good to me.” He pulled his fingers out and then he felt the head of Jisung’s cock nudge at his entrance. Alarms were blaring in his head.
“But you, I’m–” it didn’t matter what he said in that moment, Jisung already pushed in, burying himself to the hilt and his words were cut off with a sharp gasp. His position made it hard to breathe, but the intrusion was so shocking. He felt full, so incredibly full.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. You’re on birth control. ‘M the one that drives you to all your appointments, baby,” Jisung pulled out, and thrust in, punching the air from Jeongin’s lungs. He scratched at the floor, trying to steady himself as Jisung began to move in and out of him. His pace was messy, like he was exploring or experimenting, getting used to the feeling of being snug in Jeongin’s heat. Anytime Jeongin moved too much, he tightened his grip in his hair and pressed down harder, “Plus, that wouldn’t be so bad, right baby? Think about it. You were practically built to carry my kids. I bet your father would let me take you away from all of this if you got pregnant. Or maybe he would make me the new leader while you stayed home for me. Do you want that? Actually, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to fuck a baby into you, Innie.”
Jisung was rambling. He was fucking rambling, slurring his words as he finanly found a rhythm. The sound of their thighs slapping, of Jisung’s pathetic whimpers as he lost himself in the pleasure, the wet squelching as his pleasure dripped down their legs, it was incredibly lewd. And Jeongin was in shock.
The few thoughts he could form between each thrust were everywhere. He had actually broken Jisung, and it was so much worse than he had expected. Or, better? He wasn’t sure.
“This is all your fault, baby. All your fault. I held myself back, I was happy just looking, but you had to go and fucking push it,” Jisung growled and leaned down, biting the skin of Jeongin’s back hard enough that he knew it would bruise, “I told you to stop, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but you ignored me. And now I’m going to get you pregnant. I’m going to fuck you until it takes. And it’s all your fault.”
Maybe it was his fault, for toying with someone who could so easily overpower him. Jisung didn’t sound like himself, nowhere near it. He sounded like a predator, like if Jeongin looked back, he would see his pupils blown wide and his teeth razor sharp. Maybe it was what Jeongin was hoping for all along.
Jisung pulled out and slammed back in, and Jeongin couldn’t stop the yell that tore from his throat.
“Be quiet, baby, and lay still for me,” Jisung turned his own words against him, using that same honey sweet tone. But it wasn’t the same at all, because Jeongin was the one who had his face pressed to the floor.
He didn’t want to, he wanted to keep fighting, to flip the tables again, but something in him just couldn’t. He laid still as Jisung removed his fist from his hair and reached around, finding Jeongin’s clit with the pad of his thumb.
He dipped a little lower, coating his fingers in Jeongin’s slick and then began to thumb slow circles against his clit. He slowed his thrusts, gauging the natural responses of Jeongin’s body— what made him clench, what made him tremble. Jisung was actually trying to make him come.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“H-hyung, please—“ the sound he made was pitiful. Pitiful for him, someone who never showed weakness like that. Jisung only responded by picking up his pace, pressing down on his clit a little harder.
Both sensations at once were nearly impossible to bear. His hips jerked reflexively, but he couldn’t move much with the way Jisung was holding him, pinning him down, keeping him still.
“Fuck, Hyung, please. I can’t—“
“You can. You can take it, baby. Come on my cock. Come on your Hyung’s cock. Wanna feel you…” Jisung purred, fucking into him faster. His pace was relentless, thighs slapping, and his fingers never left his clit. It was so much sensation, more than he could handle. His brain was fuzzy, and not even the weight of Jisung bearing down on him was grounding anymore.
He couldn’t.
“No,”
“Yes. Yes, take it baby.”
“No, no…” he didn’t even know what he was saying no to anymore, his brain was engulfed by the feeling of Jisung’s thick cock sliding in and out of him, his strong fingers that trailed up and down his back, nails digging into his skin.
His legs began to shake as the pressure deep inside exploded.
“There you go, yeah—fuck, innie. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, come on my cock, baby.” Jisung was so cunt drunk, he was babbling again, but Jeongin couldn’t hear. His vision flashed white as pleasure radiated all over his body. He could feel it in his toes, pure sensation, warmth. The feeling was so hot and warm.
Jisung purred as he fucked him through his orgasm, chasing his own that came shortly after. He filled him up, fucking him even after he had emptied inside of him, like he was trying to push it deeper, trying to get it to take.
Jeongin could feel himself drooling. Jisung eventually pulled out and rolled Jeongin onto his back. Jisung’s hair was mussed, his chest was heaving and he still had his damn cum stained shirt on. Jeongin wanted to laugh, to degrade him but he was the one that had cum leaking out of him, slowly spilling onto the floor.
“Jisung,” he said slowly, voice a bit raspy.
“Yes?” Jisung blinked down at him, still looking wholly blissed out.
“You need to clean up your mess. Right. Now.” Jeongin gave him a hard glare, and he could see the gears in his head turning as realization washed over him. Realization that whatever animal that lay dormant inside Jisung had surfaced and absolutely ravished his precious Innie. And Jeongin couldn’t blame him, because he was the one that pushed him over the edge. Jisung’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“Um, yes, okay. Right away. I’m so sorry. Thank you, thank you so much. I’m so sorry,” Jisung stammered over his words, his usual bumbling, blushing self having returned as he ran to the bathroom to get Jeongin a towel.
They were both fucked.