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Cuts You Up (Spits You Out)

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Yunhyeong is a damned fool.


He’s a fool for multiple reasons, but first and foremost is the fact that he’d underestimated Hanbin.  Hell, underestimating Hanbin is the surest way to find yourself in a world of trouble, no matter the context, and it’s a concept he’s rapidly becoming refamiliarized with.


He hadn’t really been counting on this to happen today; but then, it’s not exactly something to anticipate, being jumped by Junhwe and Bobby as he came out of the bathroom with hands still wet and a paper towel still clutched in his fingers.  He hadn’t even realized he was still hanging onto it for dear life for several minutes afterward.  Granted, he’d been more than a little distracted by the fact that Bobby was wrestling him to the ground in an armlock, while Junhwe grabbed his legs to topple him before tearing Yunhyeong’s shirt open, buttons snapping and skittering across the hard floor with loud rattling noises.


“What the fuck?  Let go of me!” Yunhyeong had managed to yell, but his voice had sounded oddly strangled to his own ears just before Junhwe’s hand covered his mouth in a hard grip that pissed him off almost as much as it’d scared him.  Behind him, bent knee pressed into Yunhyeong’s back to keep him in place, Bobby’s busy twisting Yunhyeong’s shirt around his wrists like handcuffs.  Yunhyeong can’t breathe, and he’s angry and scared and amused all at once, a sort of hysterical lurch of emotion he’s way too busy to parse out right now.


Then Bobby moves, the pressure in his back releases, Junhwe lets go of him; Yunhyeong takes a second to catch his breath, and then he surges up onto his knees, kicking out at Junhwe to dislodge his grip in a desperate attempt to get away.


They like it when he struggles, and he supposes it’s only fair, because so does he.  Junhwe had been ready for his fight, and he easily hooks a leg around Yunhyeong’s ankle and brings him crashing to the ground with a snarl that turns into a scream of pure helpless rage, bellowed wordlessly into Junhwe’s hand cupped over his mouth.


“Would you shut him up?” Hanbin’s voice is icy-cold, vicious, and Yunhyeong shivers in spite of himself.  Hanbin’s modeled himself after a very familiar style here, and for the first time Yunhyeong seems to feel a shade of the fear and intensity that he himself occasionally inflicts on Hanbin.


He squirms again under Junhwe’s weight, and he can’t help whining; but all that happens is Junhwe’s fingers pinch his nose, the rest of his hand tight over Yunhyeong’s mouth, until his chest is heaving fruitlessly for air.  It doesn’t last long, but when Junhwe releases him, he’s too breathless and dizzy to scream.


He supposes he should feel at least a little proud that it’d taken both Junhwe and Bobby to subdue him, but pride isn’t really a point for him just yet; he’s still in the middle of enduring.  


It might’ve been Bobby and Junhwe initiating it, but Hanbin’s behind the whole thing, of that Yunhyeong’s certain.  He has a liking for irony and the concept of a taste of one’s own medicine, but with an unchecked sense of hyperbole and a sadistic appreciation for the dramatic effect.  Only Hanbin possesses the charisma and leadership to organize the other six to come down on him this hard.  It isn’t about punishment, or teaching, or vengeance; it’s about pure decadent pleasure, whether or not Yunhyeong likes it.  Perhaps especially so.


Yunhyeong’s a fool, because should’ve known, really.  Once given an inch, Hanbin won’t just take a mile; he’ll pave over you in the process and call you a speed bump, and Yunhyeong had given him the whole highway.  It’s a mistake he won’t make again.


He could get out of this, if he wanted.  The safeword rolls around in his mouth, sticks in his throat, but if Hanbin can handle him at his cruelest, then Yunhyeong can keep up.  It’s only fair.  Besides, even more than he’s angry, he’s curious to see what fresh hell Hanbin’s cooked up for him.


His stomach is a mess of snakes, his whole body aching from having been taken down so swiftly.  Someone is fumbling with his belt, but he can’t do much with Junhwe half-laying on him like this, and he’s already exhausted and breathless.  It’s only when another hand, he has no idea whose, slides smoothly inside his opened zipper to find him shockingly hard, ready.  A low laugh resolves itself into Jinhwan’s voice.


Yunhyeong kicks out feebly at the hands now tugging his jeans and underwear down, but it does him no good as they slide off, leaving him exposed to the room at large.  He hadn’t expected to feel ashamed of his nudity, but the sheer intensity of being watched by six other people has him flushing for different reasons altogether.  He struggles again, just to feel less vulnerable, but the only thing he earns himself is his ankles pinned to the floor by strong hands.


“Comfortable, hyung?” Hanbin hums mockingly.


Yunhyeong has to find his breath to respond, though with what he doesn’t even know before he starts speaking.  He doesn’t even manage to get a word out before a hand stuffs a wad of fabric past his lips, cramming his mouth with sharp fingers, with his tongue, with his own underwear.


Furious, disgusted, humiliated, his tongue works to push the rapidly soaking mass from his mouth, but a sharp slap to the face leaves him stunned that all he can do is allow himself to be hauled roughly upright, straddling someone’s lap.  He squints watery-eyed into Hanbin’s cold, eager face, and the sight of him sends a little excited chill down Yunhyeong’s spine.  In spite of everything he knows is yet to come, he’s reassured.  He trusts Hanbin.


Alright, he thinks, I can deal with you.


He scowls at Hanbin, who doesn’t move but for a cold smile stretching across his pretty mouth, still looking coolly down his aquiline nose at Yunhyeong.  He’s as cool and composed and distantly amused as a statue, and something about that enrages Yunhyeong even more, that he doesn’t seem affected by this.  He scowls at Hanbin, who smiles a little wider.


His tongue probes involuntarily at the sodden mass of fabric in his mouth, trying to shift it without really realizing what he’s doing.  Hanbin prods it back into his mouth with precision, his thumb hooking the corner of Yunhyeong’s mouth before tracing the corner of his wet, bruised lips.  His other hand is busy in his pocket, and then he draws out a bandanna like he’s pulling it out of a hat, like a magic trick that threatens to make all of Yunhyeong’s self-control disappear.


He shakes his head back and forth, trying to dislodge Hanbin as he makes to wrap the bandanna around his head.  Someone grabs at his hair to hold him still; quick as lightning, Hanbin knots the bandanna around his head.  He takes a moment to be sure Yunhyeong’s hair isn’t caught in the knot, while Yunhyeong gnaws at the bandanna irritably, tonguing the place where it’s digging into the corners of his mouth.


Hanbin sits back to look Yunhyeong over, pleased with himself, nibbling on a fingernail thoughtfully.  Then he reaches forward, and Yunhyeong can’t help it:  He flinches.


But Hanbin only lifts him with a crooked index finger on Yunhyeong’s chin, uncharacteristically gentle in a way that makes Yunhyeong both more anxious and more angry—Hanbin has no business being tender with him right now, not in the middle of all the torment they’re inflicting on him.  “Does that hurt?” Hanbin asks in a low voice, touching the edge of the bandanna.


Yunhyeong shakes his head no.


“You ready?”




Hanbin’s gentle touch on his chin becomes a full-handed grab of his throat, squeezing just enough to make his face feel hot.  Hanbin’s face is so close to his that he can feel his breath when Hanbin says to the rest of the room, “Fight’s on.”


He releases Yunhyeong’s face with a gentle motion just short of a caress, and then a motion on the edge of Yunhyeong’s vision distills into the form of Donghyuk looming over him, cold and sensual and utterly intimidating.  Yunhyeong had never dreamed Donghyuk could look like that, dominant and imperious, and he tucks the information away for later consideration.  He’s just a touch busy to think about it in much detail now.


There are hands on his thighs now—not Hanbin’s hands, because Hanbin’s moved away now, watching everything from the armchair just across from the sofa, where Yunhyeong is half-sitting, half-laying on Junhwe’s lap, off-balance and positioned just right to keep him weak.


Then Donghyuk is pulling one of Yunhyeong’s legs to the side, Bobby the other, and Yunhyeong fights them desperately to keep his legs closed; yet slowly, implacably, they pry him open, wrenching him open until he’s exposed to the rest of the group.


And it’s humiliating, shameful that he’s fucking aching, his cock throbbing red and leaking against his hip.  It’s amazing how conflicted he can feel, need and shame in equal measures.  He wants someone to just touch him already, even as he’d rather the ground just open up beneath him and swallow him whole.


Hanbin leans forward, surveying him with distinct pride and affection, though he tries his best to hide it behind a mask of disdainful amusement.  Hanbin’s always been transparent as a window.  “You don’t like this at all, do you?” He mocks, chin resting on his hand, and then he leans forward a little further to flick sharply at his balls with two fingers.  Yunhyeong flinches, muffled cry of pain stopped by the gag, his thighs tense and tight as he struggles to close his legs.  “Sucks being on the receiving end, doesn’t it?”


Yunhyeong wants to protest—that’s not for Hanbin to share with the others, that’s their secret—but he doesn’t have long to dwell on this supposed indignity, his mind elsewhere when Hanbin delivers him another flick, this one sending ripples of pain through him that blur into a dull, pulsing heat in his cock.


Hanbin slides off the chair, kneeling in front of Yunhyeong, and then without so much as a second’s warning or preamble, he ducks his head down to suck the whole length of Yunhyeong’s cock into his mouth.  It’s instantly overstimulating, too much pleasure to be enjoyable; Yunhyeong struggles against Hanbin’s hot hands now bracing his thighs apart with fingers gripped into the hard flesh.  


Yunhyeong groans deep in his throat, jerking fiercely in Junhwe’s hold.  Along with Hanbin’s mouth, his hands are busy too, wriggling two slicked fingers into the tight ring of his entrance.  


Junhwe’s merciless, however, his arms tight around Yunhyeong’s body, Bobby’s and Donghyuk’s hands holding him tight.  Hanbin’s even more so, his fingers buried to the knuckles in Yunhyeong, pushing hard at his prostate, sensation lighting him up like a pinball machine.  


Then all at once, the intensity of feeling eases, though Yunhyeong’s not sure if that’s because his body’s finally caught up with everything that’s happening to him, or if Hanbin’s backed off a little.  Either way, Yunhyeong moans in response, quite by accident, and Hanbin laughs around a mouthful of cock.  It isn’t a reassuring sound.


There we go.” Donghyuk says with relish.


Yunhyeong doesn’t like that, doesn’t like it at all, but there’s not a whole lot he can do about it except scowl across at Bobby, who’s smirking, his lips pursed in that smug way that makes Yunhyeong want to headbutt the expression right off his face.


Hanbin fucks him first, with Yunhyeong balanced on his lap.  Yunhyeong resists him the whole time, his body stiff and unwilling, his eyes narrowed with hatred that Hanbin can only laugh at and yank Yunhyeong down onto his cock to make him moan sharply into his makeshift gag.


He loses track of things pretty quickly after that, his brain left behind in the rush of sensation, passed from person to person and fucked to oblivion, covered in spit and cum—some of it his own, most of it not—and shiny red handprints.  He comes to every so often, becoming aware of certain details around him—Donghyuk coming across his lips just like he likes; Hanbin tipping Yunhyeong’s head back with both hands to lick a flat stripe across the damp bandanna keeping Yunhyeong’s lips separated; someone else sliding inside him as big and hard as an iron bar.


He has no idea who it is, or how long it lasts, or how long he has yet to go; he feels as if he’s been here for hours, and though he might’ve counted them if he’d had more than a couple of brain cells that rub together, his senses are all running together with exhaustion.  As the ultimate indignity, someone had pissed on him at some point, all over the back of his neck and shoulders.  His days are numbered, just as soon as Yunhyeong figures out who it was.


Someone else had untied the bandanna, but that was only to come in his mouth.  He’s come more times than he can count, been fucked in every position he can think of and a couple of new ones, and still he’s hard, his arousal a twist in his stomach so tight and so fucking close he can think of nothing else.


Fingers are in his mouth, smearing cum across his dry, sore lips.  The growl of pleasure in his ear tells him it’s Bobby inside him now, his hips hammering against Yunhyeong’s ass so hard that his legs have gone numb from the constant pounding and exhaustion.  Bobby’s as mean as Yunhyeong, as cruel as Hanbin when he wants to be.  Now is no exception when he slides out abruptly, leaving Yunhyeong feeling hollow and so frustrated he actually feels tears start in his eyes as the surge of orgasm bursts inside him, then fizzles out just as quickly, cooling like the sputter and pop of a failed rocket.


He’s really crying now, tense and sore and deeply unsatisfied, the evidence of his climax now all of his stomach—or maybe it’s Bobby’s cum, or Chanwoo’s, or Junhwe’s, or all three and more.  Bobby’s gritting his teeth with effort, thrusting into his own hand, and then he wipes the last of it on Yunhyeong’s thigh.


“God, you’re nasty.” Bobby says smugly.


Someone else’s tongue chases his orgasm, licking it in wide hot stripes off his belly; he struggles to slam his legs shut around the head between his thighs, twisting away from the touch, because he knows what’s coming.  Hard hands force his legs open once more, keeping him exposed, and all he can do is shudder and whine.


His vision is too blurred to tell who it is, but someone is licking the mess off his hip, his chest, his nipples with loud slurping noises.  Yunhyeong feels hot all over, his head clearing with the cool air from the ceiling fan, the room coming back into focus.


Jinhwan grabs Yunhyeong’s face, a sharp sensation of fingernails dug in his cheek, and then Yunhyeong chokes when Jinhwan leans down and spits a thick glob of saliva and cum into his mouth.  It's cold, slimy, salty, bleachy, and Yunhyeong gags, his whole body heaving.


“Swallow it.” Jinhwan hisses, his hand covering Yunhyeong’s mouth again, and just the tone of his voice sends heat lashing anew through Yunhyeong’s belly.  Yunhyeong does as he’s told, tears streaming down his temples now into his hair.


Jinhwan slaps him anyway, more of a swat than a hard blow; nevertheless it stings, shaking Yunhyeong all the way to his core.


Rough hands flip him over onto his knees, and then someone else is pushing inside him without any hesitation, without any waiting; it might’ve been painful, but Hanbin had prepped him well, and all Yunhyeong feels is a rush that might be pleasure, or dread, or fear—and yet still he arches up, pushing back into it, barely able to hold himself upright; Chanwoo braces him upright against his chest, his hands on Yunhyeong’s upper arms to balance him.  Hard hands pull his ass cheeks apart to show his entrance, stretched tight and pink around Donghyuk’s cock inside him, and the slick white mess decorating his wet skin.


He doesn’t know he’s crying openly now, his breaths not much more than throttled screams, his chest heaving, tears streaming down his face to mix with the sweat on his jaw and the splashes of cum Jinhwan had left on his upper lip and chin.  His toes are curling with every impact of Donghyuk’s hips, his body jerking with pleasure and pain; and the sweet ache of orgasm is already stirring to life inside him again.


He’s stuffed full, cum and sweat on his upper lip, running down the slope of his lower back, his ass, the insides of his quivering thighs.  Someone else is kissing him until he chokes.


Once again, he finds himself thwarted as his orgasm begins to burn hot inside him.  Donghyuk pulls out sharply, and though Yunhyeong’s too far gone to feel something as faint as the splash of cum on his lower back, he can still hear Donghyuk’s breathy moan, feels with a rush of frustration the ebbing of his own pleasure.  


He’s overcome with a renewed wave of tears, half despairing, half completely fucking berserk, jerking sharply in Chanwoo’s hold until he’s forced down onto the floor with his legs bent back, ankles held in a temporary hogtie.


“Had enough?” Hanbin says, brushing Yunhyeong’s hair out of his face with a deceptively gentle motion.  Yunhyeong glares up at him through tear-soaked lashes, his teeth showing.  


“I said, have you had enough?” Hanbin bites off each word as if tearing chunks out of Yunhyeong’s flesh, and Yunhyeong catches on.


He nods, tries to say yes but he’s too breathless to speak, and around him the whole room seems to come into sudden focus, as if someone had unexpectedly switched the lights on—in his life, not an uncommon experience to find himself under the lights, although it’s never happened like this, with him lying on the floor covered in cum and bruises, ravaged from head to heels.


He flinches when he feels a hand on his wrists, but it’s only there to carefully undo his restraints, rubbing feeling back into his aching hands.


“Shh, you did great,” Hanbin’s voice is soft in his ear, a hand stroking the damp hair off his face, and Yunhyeong’s too exhausted to do much more than whine and sob weakly, relief flooding him so thoroughly that he goes limp in Hanbin’s hold.  The hot coil in his stomach is so tight his insides are molten.  “Ready to come?”


Yunhyeong nods briefly, still panting, his head feeling like it might fall off and roll away if he nods too vigorously, too tired even to jerk with reaction when someone’s fingers slide between his sweat-slicked thighs.  Fingers probe higher, between his cheeks to find his messy, fucked-out entrance and slip inside.  He’s gonna be sore for a week, but Yunhyeong doesn’t have the energy to be upset about it just yet.


And finally, finally, Yunhyeong knows they won’t stop this time.  He moans, low and long and desperate, the long, tense wire of his excitement stretching until he can’t breathe, heat rushing back and forth inside him.


When he does come, it hits him at first in one disappointingly weak wave, and Yunhyeong finds it in himself to be annoyed for an instant before he caves in entirely, the weakness of the first pulse only a precursor to the massive hit of pleasure coursing through him.  He screams, breaking apart in one violent motion, unable to keep it in any longer.  Below, Hanbin’s hand on his cock feeds the fire, the fingers inside him pressing ruthlessly at his prostate to push him further along, until he’s nothing but raw nerves, his throttled shouts growing louder with each pulse.


His body is aching, his juddering pleasure feeling exactly like his struggles, but like before, Hanbin doesn’t let go.  He’s coming and coming hard, but like everything else tonight, completely against his will.  It’s awful, it’s wonderful, hot and delicious and humiliating, wiping everything out of his mind but the hot pulsing pleasure.


After a time, his trembling body slows to a halt, limp and messy and so bone-deep exhausted that he can barely open his eyes.  He lies still on the floor, his eyes slitted and his gaze filmy, drool leaking from the corner of his defiled lips.


He’s awake, but not alert, unable to respond as someone moves his head into their lap, cheek mashed comfortably against someone’s warm thigh.  That someone is touching his damp hair, smoothing it back off his forehead, away from his ears.  It feels nice, and Yunhyeong would like to say as much, but all of the connections that pair his mouth to his brain, and his brain to the rest of his body, have come unhinged.  The only response he can offer is a little sigh, the end of which curves up into a moan.


“Can you hear me?”


“Mm.” Yunhyeong grunts, with a certain amount of effort.


A wet cloth moves over his face like a cool, wet tongue, washing away the mess of sweat and cum, refreshing against his overheated skin.


He doesn’t have the energy to speak for some time, though it feels like only a moment to him; it takes almost twenty minutes before he has the presence of mind or the stamina even to move.  He’s both languid and weak, more like a pile of mush than an entire person right now, a sloppy mess even with the soft coolness of the wet cloth washing over his skin.


But then Bobby’s gathering Yunhyeong into his arms and carrying him, the only one of them quite strong enough to do so, and both Donghyuk and Hanbin are waiting in the shower when Bobby sets him down on unsteady legs.  He leans against the wall, closing his eyes and saying little.


He hears Hanbin’s voice, registers at first just the gentle tone, but the meaning of the words take a few minutes to seep through the filmy haze filling his skull.


“You know what, Donggu?  I’ve got this.  I think…I think this will be better handled by just me.”


If Donghyuk’s taken aback by this, Yunhyeong can’t tell.  “Alright, hyung.” Donghyuk says softly.  “I’m clean already anyway, so I’ll just come check on you afterward.”


“Thank you.”


Someone strokes Yunhyeong’s cheek, but Yunhyeong doesn’t open his eyes as Hanbin begins to soap him down with gentle hands.


“To be honest, this wasn’t what I had in mind when you suggested it, Hanbin.” Yunhyeong mumbles, bending his head to let Hanbin wash his hair.


“Yeah?  What were you expecting?” Hanbin says, tipping Yunhyeong’s head back up to rinse, his fingers gliding through Yunhyeong’s hair, tugging just right.  Yunhyeong doesn’t respond right away.


“...something sweet.  You know.  Gentle.”


“You said you didn’t have any preference.” Hanbin murmurs.


“I know, and I’m learning quickly that that’s not a good answer to give you.” Yunhyeong mutters.


“Is this not sweet and gentle enough for you?”


Yunhyeong smiles.  “No.  It’s great.”


“Good.” Hanbin says, and there’s a smile in his voice.  “So I can assume you learned your lesson?”


“About not letting you take the reins ever again?  Absolutely.” Yunhyeong hums.


“I meant about being taken by surprise.” Hanbin amends.


Slowly, as if his hands weigh a hundred pounds, Yunhyeong raises an arm and pulls Hanbin close to him.  Hanbin nestles against his chest, face pressed into Yunhyeong’s wet collarbone.  A moment later, Yunhyeong’s other hand slides up to find its familiar place around Hanbin’s neck, and then his grip tightens.  Hanbin splutters, but then Yunhyeong’s got him pinned by his neck against the shower wall, his face an inch away, so that Hanbin can feel Yunhyeong’s breath on his upper lip.  Yunhyeong’s grip is weak and his gaze is still uneven, but even for all that, the underlying playful menace in his voice is unmistakable.


“Hanbin, if you’re asking if I’ve changed my mind about anything, the answer is that as soon as I can feel my legs again, you won’t stop screaming.”


Hanbin’s sudden smile mirrors Yunhyeong’s own.  “Promise?”