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Sex Driven

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He'd asked for this. He knew that gave him little right to complain. He'd agreed to this long before this stage. Back in No Mercy when they realized it might be them. They'd never quite grown as fond of him as they acted. It was their job. He understood that as it was also his.

But they had reached a compromise of sorts. A deal struck in the dark. A deal that suited him just fine. Ever since the first time, he'd grown addicted to being filled. It was his dirty secret. They had found out.

At first it made them uncomfortable and on edge to know. To realize he was into that. But once they had accepted it they made him theirs. They hadn't quite asked the first time as he'd given in. He'd wanted to belong and if this was how he was okay with this too.

He just wished they would be a little more gentle. He had to dance too. And his throat could only handle so much even if his tone was always low. Yet he knew if he told them that they would know better than to believe him.

Cleaning up though was always a pain when they were rough. Like today all six of them had left after filling him, his body bruised from the force. And sticky with their cum. He wasn't even sure how long he had laid there this time before he found his body under hot water. When he returned they would look at him as if nothing happened. As if they hadn't gang banged him for an indeterminate amount of time again.

Not that he was complaining. He'd asked for this. Asked them to please him and be pleased in return. And once the feeling of them inside him faded in a few days he would ask for it again.

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I.m frowned at the members as they ignored him again. They did that a lot as they got ready. But he was used to it by now. He was well accustomed to their empty eyes and the absent desire. That wasn't what this was. Not for any of them, not even himself. It was a need they were filling. Feelings had nothing to do with it.

He knew they were ready when hands landed on his hips and lips on his shoulder. Both belonged to different members, he didn't care who. He had tried to tell himself that he did before, but he knew that he didn't. It didn't really matter if it was them or not. He felt their hands drifting over his body, his head thrown back as lips met his neck. Hard nips and nails down his side. It felt good, not too rough but rough enough he could feel it.

He knew it was Minhyuk behind him from the way he pawed at him, hands needy and insistent in getting what they wanted. His ass already being pulled apart and his body bent over. Foreplay but an imaginary word as they pushed and pulled him along. It wasn't something he wanted as he gave into their insistent prodding. Shownu's fingers dancing around his thigh, as Wonho pulled his head to the side by his hair. He wasn't gentle as he shoved himself forward, not an offering a demand. A demand he gladly gave into as he moved himself forward, ignoring the light slap as he moved away from Hyungwon's probing fingers.

The fingers in his hair changed and he was pulled off of Wonho with a loud popping sound as Jooheon shoved his cock into his mouth. There was no warning of the change and his neck hurt at the sudden shift but he didn't say anything. Instead he continued his ministrations, the moans above him not any different than before. He had to pull back though to prevent himself from biting as Kihyun's mouth connected with his side in a skin breaking bite.

His mouth didn't stay free for long though as Wonho was pulling him back with a command. He felt the shiver down his spine. Then it was pain as Shownu began preparations with no warning. He was just glad he was quick about it, he could feel the need building in his stomach.

When he was finally being filled it felt like the world was shifting. The hard thrust of hips into his own, hands that didn't know how to still roving over his body, and the hard cocks that were lined up in front of him. Each of their owners pulling him towards them, each of them striving for their own release. They took turns but just barely. Each of them shoving and pushing each other, fighting for space. His hands being put to work as they shifted to him riding Minhyuk on the couch. The room was deathly silent save the moans and groans of their act.

Even though their hands were on him, not a single touch was less needy than the last. He could feel as each of them strove for their release. And when it came it was spilled upon his body, down his throat, or in his ass. They never asked if that was okay but he never complained, even though he wanted to. Because he didn't want them to stop. He wanted to find his own release as he found himself full of Kihyun and Hyungwon. They didn't let him, instead pulling and pushing him to where they wanted. Until finally he couldn't hold back cumming onto himself as they thrust into him, not stopping.

He wasn't sure how long they went on. Until they couldn't anymore. They didn't look at him as they left one by one. Unable to stand the bruises of their hands on his hips, the bites on his side, or the cum in his hair. As he lay there completed and covered in their cum he thought back on his life that he had come to this. That he had come to crave this.

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Jooheon bit the inside of his cheek and looked away from their maknae. He knew he wasn't doing it on purpose. I.M was just being himself and being himself meant being somewhat clingy, even if it wasn't always welcomed. While they didn't get along nearly as well as they portrayed to their fans they were still very big on skinship. It made it easier to keep up pretenses on camera. As it was right now I.M was just sleeping, and had fallen over on him. It wasn't a big deal.

No the big deal was that I.M's hand was on his thigh and way too close to things it shouldn't be. Jooheon was completely comfortable in this position with say Minhyuk, or even Hyungwon. Not I.M, things with their maknae were complicated and much more sexual than that. It wasn't like I.M was constantly asking them to fuck him, only every couple of days. Jooheon reminded himself that thinking about this wasn't going to get his work done and tried to tune out the feeling of the warmth of another body against him. It wasn't possible though when I.M began moaning in his sleep.

And Jooheon was biting the inside of his cheek again and telling himself that pushing the maknae over and giving him a reason to moan was a horrible idea. It wasn't always like this. It hadn't been like this in the beginning. I.M had been getting closer to them, they had been striving towards being a real team. Then they found out his secret when they found him getting gang banged by some trainees. They had thought it was rape, they had thought it was something more than what it was. But after defending their maknae they only found out his darkest secret. That he liked it. That he had asked for it.

Jooheon had known then that something tragic, something wrong, and something messed up had happened to I.M to make him this way. Things had started then. When I.M had asked them to fill that need. Looking back he wasn't sure when or how things had become like this, not really. How the member beside him became little more than what he was. A hollow of a person in some ways. Someone to hold dear on camera but in the privacy of their dorm to fuck and leave laying there. Something like an object but not quite because he still cared. He cared about I.M, that he was happy, and he listened to him. But there was a wall there, a distance he wasn't interested in crossing. Secrets he didn't want to know.

He stopped trying to think about it anymore when I.M's eyes opened and he looked over at him sleepily. Their maknae was adorable, sweet, and deserved more than he let himself have. And in ways that made Jooheon angry that I.M let himself settle for this. So angry he didn't hold back in letting the other know he was hard and aching and he was going to take him.

I.M didn't resist when he started touching him, his feelings darkened by the knowledge that this was all it was. He didn't want anymore. All he wanted was what he could get. And as he bent back I.M's arm behind his back forcing his head down, minimal prep done, he didn't want to change. As he began thrusting he let his thoughts drift away instead just enjoying the feeling of taking. Of getting what he wanted.

He could feel guilty later. He could apologize for giving no warning later. He could change later. Even if he knew he wouldn't and nothing between them would change. Because I.M would just take it quietly like he always did.

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I.M hadn't asked them this time. He hadn't wanted to do anything, even if that feeling in the back of his mind told him that he needed them to fill him for him to be something. For him to exist. It was hard to ignore the desire to be taken, to be owned. He knew though that his body couldn't handle it after the extreme performance they had just finished. He hadn't thought they would do it either.

He'd been wrong and even when he'd resisted as much as he could, they only let him off after they realized he wasn't going to be able to stand on his own. They had then proceeded to care for him, more than they ever had before. Helping him to the van even though there were no cameras, allowing him to snuggle up to one of them in the van. Smooth words of it's okay.

He knew that it wasn't. There was a tension just under the surface he could feel. A greed for what he had to offer. His own desire was subdued only by his exhaustion and his thoughts swirling around his head. The ones he tried to ignore. The feeling of how one sided everything was. He knew he had asked for this, begged for them to fill his need.

They had been reluctant at first, hesitant and afraid he would break. He had proven himself stronger than they thought. But sometimes he still caught their worried glances, the ones that told him he was cracking around the edges. The ones that told him that they knew he wasn't alright and they wondered if he knew that too.

Of course he knew. How could he not know. Even as Monsta X loved their monbebes and presumably each other he was struggling to love himself. To accept what he was now, what he was becoming. That the only desires he had were of the flesh and the pretense that he had other interests outside of music, sex, and food were not something he had to face. The public saw them, he'd never let them know how broken he felt.

How broken he'd felt after that first time. It hadn't been consensual then. He'd screamed, he'd cried, he had liked it. And he hated himself for liking it. The second time hadn't been as non-consensual as he let those men believe. The third time he'd given up the pretense and the fourth time had been with them. They were the best so far, but sometimes he wondered what others might be like.

He wondered what it would be like to be normal again. To not want this. To not enjoy the pain their lack of affection brought him. To not crave the filling of his body with cocks. Today was one of those days as he leaned into the soft touches and pretended for even a moment they meant something. He knew better but that was his life now. Just pretend.

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Minhyuk had started it this time. I.M had only been cuddling, feeling a little clingy because Minhyuk was willing to let him. Things had devolved quickly, they always did. To hands in places they didn't belong in platonic relationships, in places they didn't belong when you said no. I.M hadn't said no though, not explicitly. He never did. Because even as he wanted to reject them, wanted to tell them they couldn't touch him like this if they didn't want him. He never did. Because he knew that even in his twisted feelings he wanted this. Because these touches never meant anything and maybe somewhere along the way he came to want them to mean something.

He wanted them to touch him. To make him feel, to make him feel wanted. To make him feel worth something with the rough way they moved him to suit their desires. The way they touched every inch of him, their hands harsh, rough, and validating against his skin. Meaning everything to him, yet he knew they were a chore to the others, a need they had agreed to fill. A lust they were willing to sate as it suited their own.

Once it had started I.M knew it wouldn't take long for the others to join in. Lured by the moans, the low sounds of sex. He hadn't been wrong and when they joined it was with more force than necessary. A struggle to claim him as their own. Even as they pushed and pulled him between them. Each of them thrusting their cock into him or at him from different directions. Yanking his body along to their own. He knew it had nothing to do with him. It had everything to do with them and what they wanted.

I.M wasn't blind to the selfish way they took him. Pushing him as well as each other to get space, to lay hands on his body. To leave their marks. To own not his heart, for that they had no interest in, but to own his body. They were animals and he was merely their prey. The hole that was always willing.

He wondered if things would change if he told them no. If he told them no and meant it. He wondered if things would be different if he were willing to stop them. If he were willing to look for another way to feel whole. He never went beyond thinking it. Instead sucking their cocks just as greedily as they wanted. The options fleeing as he lost his mind to the sensations of the flesh that he lived for.

And when they were done, his body covered in their cum, bruises, and marks he would lay there wondering why. Why he gave in. Why it was always like this. And if maybe one day the facade they showed on camera might seep into this forbidden practice. That maybe one day he wouldn't have to struggle his way to the shower on weak knees, maybe one day their eyes wouldn't be so cold. Or if maybe his own eyes would light up again in earnest. In a way they hadn't since the first time.

He often wondered what he would do if that day never came.

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The mirror was broken and there was blood on his fist. It didn't look as broken as he felt. It had only been three days since they started learning this dance and in those three days he'd been yelled at exactly twenty times. Each time for something different, something small. Something that they had caused by not being careful. They tried to be more understanding as they saw a few glimpses of bruises as his shirt slid up, nothing they couldn't, hadn't explained away.

But that didn't stop them from yelling. That didn't make them care more as they pushed themselves against exhaustion as well. He wondered if maybe they even had feelings, if they knew the way their words wounded him at all. If it mattered to them that they constantly made him want to walk away when they were like this. When the only things he heard from them were reproaches and the only positive feedback he received was when he was sucking their cocks.

Today was a free day but even so he couldn't rest knowing they would push him harder than themselves because he was their weak point. Their point of contention. It was too obvious that they still didn't care for him and he didn't want them to know he craved it. For actual affection.

Looking in the broken mirror he wondered if maybe he was just looking in the wrong places. As the days passed and he worked alone more he met others. Others that were sweet and looked at him with something that wasn't dark. Something that wasn't sexual. It was nice. It felt nice to just be with someone and not worry about where they might leave bruises if they couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Where he didn't have to worry about his words being ignored or his voice stopped by the feeling of judgement.

It made him look at himself in the mirror he had broken and wonder if maybe he could put himself back together. By himself. He thought he could.

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I.M wasn't sure how they found out. But he knew when they did. Because they had never taken him so roughly before. The message was clear as they cut him off at the knees. He found himself glued to their sides everywhere they went or kept in the dorm. His movements cut off.

He realized what they thought when they found him in the practice room, not alone. He hadn't done anything with them, he'd only been smiling and laughing. It was then he realized they couldn't allow that if it wasn't with them. Even though it was the one thing they didn't give him. They gave into his physical needs and saw to his cravings. But that wasn't what he wanted anymore.

Then it had happened. He had told them no. As a group. As a whole. It had stung in his eyes and in his heart as he finally admitted to himself that what he wanted was something they couldn't give him. Because as much as they cared they only cared about themselves more. About the group, about a unit it was only for what they could be not who they were separately.

The moment the word had left his lips their eyes had changed. They had become colder as they forced him to his knees. He was sure they only saw red as the one person who had never denied them dared to defy them. He knew what they were feeling, he had felt that impulsive anger before. But never before had he given in like they were now.

It was painful as they pulled and yanked his body around. Not caring about if it hurt him, probably enjoying that it did. Their moans the only ones filling the room. And when they finally finished collapsing around him, their message was still clear. You belong to us. You are our toy.

It hurt more than his body even as he lay there unable to move from the force of their thrusts, from the force of their violence against his body. It was then he knew he needed to leave.

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Pride goeth before a fall. I.M had heard that saying more times than he could count. He had never understood that statement more than when he stood before the company. He told them it was artistic differences. They hadn't believed him. He told them it was the bullying. They asked to see proof. It wasn't until he had shown them the bruises, yellowed over and healing they believed. He was cut from the group.

It felt like he was dying. The tears wouldn't stop even as he packed his things the rooms empty as the group was called away. He would never see them again. They would never inflict that level of violence against his person again. And suddenly he was falling to his knees the knife at his throat. Who he was no longer who he could be. He wasn't sure how long he cried.

Long enough for them to have returned but they didn't. They weren't allowed. No legal action was going to be taken, regardless of the press for justice that his Mother had screamed. He didn't want it. Just like he no longer wanted them. He didn't want their pretenses or pretending. He didn't want their cold eyes and hard cocks. He couldn't have what he wanted.

So instead he took the knife to the thin threads that bound them and he cut them. Cut them the same way he cut at himself. Murdering the parts of himself he could no longer stand to look at in the mirror. The parts that only hindered who he wanted to be. He wanted to heal. And maybe once he was healed he could look at them again and see more than the pain it currently brought him. The dream he'd have to start over.

It felt like death. But he knew that he could only raise from the ashes as he finally allowed himself to be. To be Changkyun, the Changkyun who felt whole without the feelings of being put down. The Changkyun who could be happy without being filled with cocks. To be the Changkyun who smiled like he meant it again.

He knew you had to murder who you once were to be who you wanted to be.