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It builds in his underbelly, the skein of desire winding itself tighter and tighter till his body trembles, mind softened into sticky peach-pulpy want. He wants and wants and he’s so fucking close and each of Jeongin’s hard, sharp thrusts punches another pathetic noise out of him. Jisung barely registers the sounds he’s making, all those humiliating little squeals and gasps and choked-up moans—so lost and hazy, begging, ‘please—let me, let me—’
This close, he barely needs anything. Just a hint of a touch. A barely-there swipe of his fingers where he’s most sensitive, where he’s flushed and leaking and sticky-hot for Jeongin.
Earlier, he tried to touch himself. He snaked his hand down his chest and tugged on his own dick, but Jeongin batted his hand away and told him to be good.
He has tried. He’s usually so good, but need makes way for misbehaviour, and maybe Jeongin won’t notice anyway, he’s so busy turning Jisung’s thoughts into mush, so busy reducing his body to a receptable for pure, fizzing pleasure, so probably—probably he won’t notice, and Jisung needs it, he needs it so bad, and Jeongin might not be too mad, he’ll understand, won’t he? How much Jisung needs it. He’s the reason Jisung is this close. He’s the reason he’s this desperate to come, so he must understand, right? Won’t he?
‘Ah—ah, ah—love when you—when you fuck me,’ he babbles, back arching off the bed. He tries to fuck himself back against Jeongin; tries to get him even deeper, even though he’s already so deep that Jisung swears he can feel him in his teeth. ‘Feel so—s’full, ‘m so close, hhgnhgh—’
And then his hand moves on its own accord—it slips between his legs and touches there, thumb skimming over the slick cockhead, another strangled sound tumbling from his lips.
He’s so hazy it takes moments to register what happens next.
It hits him in flashes: how Jeongin grabs his wrist to pin down his arm; how he tells him absolutely not; how he pulls out and manhandles Jisung’s fucked-out body on to the front.
‘I told you not to touch yourself,’ he says, the dark rasp of his voice shooting shivers up Jisung’s spine.
Oh, no.
He’s in trouble.
The realisation flickers.
‘Didn’t I?’
‘Hhhhh.’ He licks out at his lips. Instinctively, he grinds into the mattress, but before the forbidden friction can push him over the edge, Jeongin grabs his waist and hauls his pelvis off the bed. ‘No—no, no—’
‘Look at you,’ Jeongin says. ‘Humping the mattress like an animal. Are you in heat, Jisung-ah? Are you some kind of dog?’
‘Hhhhno, no-no-no—’ His body shakes. Humiliation burns through him and mingles with the red-hot desire that’s swathed him for a while now. The denial turns him dizzy. His hole clenches desperately, so empty now, sticky with lube and pre-cum all the way down his thighs—his skin probably glistens. He probably looks so pathetic, still rutting forward against the air, chasing the pleasure Jeongin won’t allow him. He needs to be touched. He needs to come. ‘Please,’ he begs, ‘please, ah, baby, please—’
‘I told you no,’ Jeongin say. He grabs Jisung’s ass and pulls his cheeks apart; on instinct, his hole clenches again, the shame of being exposed, the desire for something inside him—he whimpers. Jeongin only laughs. ‘Like an untrained mutt. You know what happens to brats, Jisung-ah.’
His head swims. He twitches forward, but Jeongin’s grasp on him is steady. Unrelenting. It makes Jisung gasp. Anticipation licks at him. What will Jeongin do with him?
‘I didn’t—I didn’t mean—’
‘I don’t care,’ he says. He presses his thumb flatly against Jisung’s greedy hole, but doesn’t push it inside. The touch is tantalising. It feels like torture—the way it’s there, but not really. The way it’s not inside him the way he wants it to be. The way it’s not filling him up the way he needs to be filled up, the way he’s slowly realising that Jeongin won’t let this go. He won’t brush it off.
He’ll—
Oh, he’ll punish Jisung for touching himself without permission. He can almost taste the promise of what’s going to happen. His stomach turns slightly, his mouth going sour because he doesn’t like punishments. He wants to be good, really, he does, it’s just hard sometimes. Sometimes, need digs its claws into him and doesn’t let go. Need rewires his brain and makes him do things he isn’t allowed to do. Even when he knows he shouldn’t do them—the need is stronger than sense. The desperation beats rationality, every time.
Even when he knows Jeongin will punish him for it, he still breaks the rules.
‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘sorry, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—’
‘I said I don’t care,’ Jeongin interrupts. ‘Tell me what happens to bad boys who break the rules?’
He sucks in a shaky breath. His fingers curl in the duvet and he presses his face into the pillows, mumbling something unintelligible. His cheeks burn. He still wants to come, his dick twitching uselessly.
‘Jisung-ah,’ Jeongin says. ‘Tell me.’
He whimpers. He lifts his head a little, a sliver of drool sticking to the pillowcase. ‘Um. I wasn’t going to c—’
‘Lying to my face is not helping your case, sweetheart.’
He swallows. He nods, his eyes wide, his throat full of sand. ‘Bad boys get—’ he begins, closing his eyes. ‘You’re gonna—you’re gonna punish me. ‘Cause I was bad.’
‘How were you bad?’
‘You—you said I couldn’t touch and I. Um. I did. But I didn’t—’
‘Jisung.’
His tongue darts out. A needy little sound dies in the back of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles. ‘I just wanted—wanted to come. I still wanna come. Wanna feel good, please. Please.’
‘I would’ve made you come,’ Jeongin says, ‘if you had just followed the rules. Only obedient boys get to come, darling. Bad boys get punished.’
He shivers. ‘H-how?’ He casts down his eyes. ‘How’re you—’ His hips rock forward again, but Jeongin digs his fingers into his skin and holds him in place. ‘What’s my punishment?’
In lieu of a verbal answer, Jeongin lands his palm flat against Jisung’s upper thigh. It knocks a thwarted gasp from him, but before he can string any words together, Jeongin hits him again.
‘Like this,’ he says. ‘You better keep count, baby, or we’re starting over.’
He’s so floaty. That authoritative tone, the condescension so palpable—it makes him drip. And the physical pain, his skin flaming where Jeongin’s palm connects—it’s so much. It’s almost too much.
‘Th-three,’ he gasps. He rocks forward but Jeongin doesn’t let him squirm away; he holds him in place and hits the part of his body where his thigh meets his ass. ‘F-four. Oh my God.’
‘What?’ he says. He spanks him again and Jisung’s body spasms. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Yes,’ he gasps. He grasps the duvet tighter. He’s always been so sensitive—just a few spanks and he feels the sobs start building behind his ribs, feels how his throat starts burning. Being spanked is, to him, a true punishment: the pain brings him no pleasure, but enduring it makes him proud of himself. Taking it. Being good. Proving that he’s a good boy and didn’t mean to misbehave. ‘Hhh hurts, Jeongin, hurts.’
He smoothes his palm over the soft swell of Jisung’s ass and pinches the hot skin. ‘I don’t hear you counting.’
What number are they at now? They were just at four, weren’t they? He tries to sift through his blurry mind. ‘Um. Five?’
Jeongin spanks him again.
Jisung’s body shakes and his back arches. ‘S-six,’ he whimpers, something wet in his voice now. ‘How—how many?’
‘Hm.’ As he considers, he rubs his hand over Jisung’s thigh. He flicks the crease of his ass cheek and hits him again. ‘Twenty, I think. A nice round number.’
‘Hghnhg—’ He wriggles his hips again. ‘Seven. That was—was seven. I think.’
The next three hits land in quick succession, and then something inside Jisung breaks. Tears clump his eyelashes and spill down his cheeks and he almost chokes on a loud, convulsive gasp. He shudders, sobs, squirms to get away—
‘Lie still,’ Jeongin says. He grabs Jisung’s ass again, groping and pulling at the cheeks, digging his fingers harshly into his sensitive, inflamed skin.
‘Hhnghgah-ah-oww—’
‘If you don’t lie still, I’ll make it thirty instead. Understand?’
His eyes roll back. The pain curdles—with each following hit, he sobs loudly. It hurts so much he can’t think. He’s so sensitive—it feels like his skin is on fire and Jeongin’s patronising tone, the way his words should be sympathetic but aren’t—it makes his head spin. He’s dizzy. He pants wetly. ‘Four—fourteen, hhhhhhhurts—’
‘I know it hurts,’ Jeongin says. ‘You know why I’m hurting you, sweetheart?’
A whimper leaks from him. He sniffles and brings up his hand to wipe at his wet cheeks. ‘B-because,’ he mumbles, ‘because I was bad. And—and bad boys. Bad boys get punished.’
‘That’s right,’ he says. Jisung can hear the smile in his voice. He hits him again and the pain singes him. ‘So next time you think of touching yourself without permission, you’ll remember this. You’ll remember how you cried and how much it hurt. And you’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll be good for me.’
‘Hhhhhh—’ He grounds himself, but the pain builds inside him. It crashes over him in waves; his body jerks every time Jeongin spanks him, his muscles tensing. He has to remind himself to relax. ‘Will—will be good. I’m good. I’m good. I’m good.’
‘What’s the count?’ he prompts.
‘Uuuuhhhh. Fifteen. Was fifteen.’
Jeongin hits him again, and again, and Jisung wails. He kicks out his foot, the hurt crashing over him, and shudders when he finally, finally, makes it to, ‘twenty. Twenty. Was twenty. I took it. I took it.’
‘You took it,’ Jeongin says. Even the gentle touch of his hand smoothing down Jisung’s thigh hurts. It smarts and it’s sensitive and he’ll be sore tomorrow. He’ll remember this—the pain of it, and how deliriously good it felt to submit to it. To bear it. To grit his teeth and take it. ‘Good boy.’
‘I’m good,’ he mumbles. He shifts on the bed and turns his head, blinking his wet lashes up at Jeongin. ‘I’m good? I—I can come?’
His mouth snatches into a smile. Jisung feels loved when he looks at him, but he also feels trapped. Ensnared. Mocked.
‘Yeah, you’re good,’ Jeongin says, almost sing-song. Almost sweet. Jisung knows what lurks behind that tone, how this type of sympathy cuts much deeper. ‘But you can’t come.’
‘Hhhhno-no, but—but I—’
‘You took your spanking well,’ he says. He prods his fingertip against Jisung’s hole, still stretched from earlier, still needy for something inside. ‘But I still don’t think you deserve to come today, sweetheart.’
‘But—but, but—’
He lifts his eyebrows. He pinches Jisung’s rim between his fingers. The sting makes him gasp and wriggle in place. ‘But?’
‘No-nothing.’ He ducks his head. He wants to say something about how it’s unfair. He was good. He endured the pain of his punishment and he didn’t come earlier and he’s so needy. He wants it. Orgasms feel so good. Earth-shatteringly good, and Jisung wants that. He thinks he deserves it.
But Jeongin won’t agree with that. Jeongin will tell him not to be greedy. Jeongin will ask what good boys say and whether Jisung needs another reminder. Needs to be hit again.
Jisung doesn’t.
‘You’re mean,’ he mumbles, which is maybe still pushing it a little, but he’s being denied. He’s allowed to be at least a tiny bit bratty about it.
‘Brat,’ Jeongin says. ‘You should thank me.’
His mouth drops open. ‘What?’
‘Thank me for hurting you,’ he says neutrally. He runs his thumb along the inside of Jisung’s thigh and scrapes his nail into his skin. ‘Thank me for reminding you what happens to disobedient boys.’
He squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Th-thank you,’ he gasps, licking at his lips. Mortification swallows him from the inside. ‘Thank you for—for punishing me. And. Um. Thank you for reminding me to be good.’
‘That’s better,’ he says. ‘Now, get up on your knees like a good boy for me.’
Clumsily, he shifts around on the bed. It hurts when he sits on his haunches; the soles of his feet digging into his sore ass and thighs, but he sucks in a deep breath and steadies himself. He’s still hard, his dick leaking a continuous drip of pre-cum. ‘How’re you—’
‘Shh,’ Jeongin says, groaning when he fits his big hand around his dick and strokes himself. ‘No talking, sweetie. Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?’
He whimpers, but nods obediently. His eyes stay trained on Jeongin’s hard cock, his thumb rubbing over the head, smoothing pre-cum and leftover lube down the length. He moans and his eyelashes flutter, his bottom lip working itself between his teeth. ‘Fuck,’ he groans. ‘Ah. Ahh.’
‘Hhhh,’ Jisung whines. His hips rock forward and his fingers tremble. Words bubble up in his throat and he wants to let them out—wants to beg Jeongin to actually let him use his mouth, to show him how good he can be, to fuck his face till he loses his voice. Just sitting here feels like a continuation of the punishment.
Maybe that’s the point.
He works his tongue around his mouth and bites it.
‘What?’ Jeongin prompts. ‘I can see you’re fucking dying to say something. What is it?’
‘Please,’ he mumbles. He can’t tear his eyes away from Jeongin’s hand. He wants his dick inside him. He wants to be pinned down on the bed and fucked till he comes all over himself. ‘Please. Let me—let me—my mouth. Please.’
Jeongin scoffs. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, winking at him, ‘I’ll come in your mouth.’
Jisung’s abs tense. Another wet moan steals away from his throat. He licks at his lips and slides his hands under his shins, blinking slowly up at Jeongin again.
He moves his hand faster. The sounds that fill their bedroom are obscene—wet and slick, rough moans, filthy curses that light Jisung up with hot, heavy arousal.
‘Please,’ he whispers, voice broken and raw. Need still courses through him. The need to come has been tempered now that he knows he won’t be allowed, but instead there’s the need to be good. The need to make Jeongin come. The need to show how good he is, how obedient, how well-trained. How submissive. ‘Please—please, let me—let me see you come. Please.’
‘God,’ Jeongin says roughly. He runs his free hand through Jisung’s hair and tugs hard enough that his scalp stings. ‘Look at you. So pretty for me. Does it still hurt? Where I hit you?’
He nods slowly. He sniffles and closes his eyes for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he whispers. ‘Really sore.’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘You’ll remember this when you sit down tomorrow, won’t you? And you’ll remember how I didn’t put my cock in your mouth either.’
He jerks.
‘Open your mouth,’ Jeongin says. He angles his dick at Jisung’s open mouth and jerks himself off fast and rough.
Jisung knows all his tells. His moans get more frequent and they rise in pitch, which means he’s close. The way his thighs tremble, the way he keeps licking at his bottom lip, the way he grabs Jisung’s hair tighter to hold him in place—all of that. All those little signs you learn and memorise when you’ve loved each other for a long time.
The way Jisung and Jeongin have loved each other for a long time. The time it takes to become so acquainted with another person’s body that sometimes it feels like it’s your own. Jeongin’s face twists up with pleasure and his impending orgasm, and Jisung swears he can almost feel it himself.
He prepares himself. He keeps his mouth open and he closes his eyes and then his entire body goes rigid when he feels warm cum shoot into his mouth, dribbles of it splattering on his lips and chin.
‘Ah, shit,’ Jeongin says, slowly loosening his fingers in Jisung’s hair. There’s still the wet sound of him stroking his dick. ‘Shit, look at you. Nasty boy.’
Jisung whimpers. He still keeps his mouth open. He’s good now. He’s waiting for permission.
With an amused sound, Jeongin taps his dick against Jisung’s lip. He runs his finger along the mess on his chin and shoves it into his mouth, pushing down on his tongue.
His eyes water. His vision swims when he looks up at Jeongin.
‘Good boy,’ he says, pulling away his hand. ‘You can swallow.’
His eyes flutter shut and he closes his mouth, swallowing the cum on his tongue. He licks his lips and swallows again, then blinks slowly up at Jeongin.
‘Fuck.’ He touches his bottom lip with his thumb. ‘Good boy.’
The praise makes him glow. He licks his lips and flashes a dopey smile. His cock is still hard, still aching and desperate, but he knows Jeongin won’t change his mind. Won’t give in. Won’t take pity on him and wrap his hand around him and murmur about what a pretty little thing he is, and how pretty little things like him deserve to come.
Jisung sighs. He shifts forward and nudges his cheek into Jeongin’s soft palm. ‘I was good?’ he mumbles. ‘To-tomorrow? I can come tomorrow?’
‘Yes,’ Jeongin promises. He presses a soft kiss to Jisung’s forehead. ‘You took your punishment well, sweetheart. You’ll get to come again tomorrow. That sound good?’
‘Mmmm.’ He falls back on to the bed and squirms around, making grabby hands for Jeongin. ‘Mmm good. Good.’
‘Good boy,’ he says, moving closer to cuddle him. ‘Best boy.’