THE BROTHERS | NCT BXB

6: Turning Point

Take a deep breath. That is all.

Taeyong's breathing ceased, the muscles around his bones fastening into place.

Pressed up against his neck, its silver body curving against the underside of his jaw, was something as sharp as needles. The knife was close enough to tear skin with one wrong twitch of his throat, threatening to nick the surface and skin him alive. Lips trembling, Taeyong's gaze shot down to its owner, eyes trailing from the sleeveless arm to the body of the man who'd kept him imprisoned. And then, fear swallowed him whole. Of all people, he had hoped and prayed to a nonexistent god that it wouldn't be Johnny. But sinners prayers were never ones to be answered.

Johnny hovered above him, body lifted away from Taeyong's, mere inches away in the air. He was so close that Taeyong could almost feel him physically - the legs that had kneeled by Taeyong's thighs to keep them in place and his chest that towered above Taeyong's navel. Taeyong's fingers dug into his palms, marking permanent moons, and he wound his eyes shut, as if when he opened them again he'd find that everything occurring was simply another nightmare. But there was the sound of rustling on the bed - sheets moving as  Johnny's body rose higher up - to remind him that this was real. He crawled forward until his head stopped at the side of Taeyong's. Nothing moved but the hairs on his nape that had been called forward when Johnny breathed warm air through his parted mouth.

Johnny said nothing, but his lips came down to Taeyong's neck, skin brushing skin, featherlight. He pressed his lips down on Taeyong's throat, dotting kisses along the taut skin in a slow manner, with Taeyong's eyes shut all the while. The touch of his lips seared, burning lines past the surface of Taeyong's skin, where it turned to coal and withered to ash. Taeyong felt Johnny surround him, encapsulating his entire being, as Johnny trailed kisses down his neck - short, chaste, nothing that lingered or bordered affectionate. His lips came to the juncture between Taeyong's throat and clavicle and stopped there, and for a moment, with his eyes tightly wound together, Taeyong wondered if he'd imagined Johnny above him in the first place.

He wondered if, maybe, this was another one of his sick dreams that had seemed so real it was as if they'd come to life.

But then, teeth clamped down on his skin and wrapped around his collarbone, and Taeyong had to press his lips together to stop himself from screaming. He grasped the sheets in hand so hard it hurt, stilling himself in place so that he wouldn't jolt on the bed and the knife pressed to the underside of his jaw wouldn't pierce into the shattered remains of his skull. Johnny didn't let up. Instead, he continued to bite, moving down along Taeyong's clavicle and suckling upon the skin so hard that it'd be impossible to tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise.

Taeyong struggled not to writhe, not to breathe, not to die. And as if God had seen him and taken mercy, Johnny's lips popped off and he rose above him, quiet, admiring his work.

"You're awake," a voice drifted into his ear from somewhere in the corner in the room, ghost-like.

Taeyong's eyes widened at once, snapping away from Johnny, whose face was looking down at his with a sardonic smile, to Mark who was sitting on a table, perched upon its edge. His figure was shadowy in the dark, almost unrecognisable, but Taeyong could make him out - his sharp shoulders, straight posture, and the constant taunting tilt of his head. And he should've known that Mark had come too because where one of them went, the other one seemed to follow.

Terror crawled up his skin and dug under the layers as Mark took a noiseless step forward. He wanted to scream for Mark to step back. He wanted to alert whoever was outside, whoever was roaming the streets at night, that there were demons inside his house that had come to take him. But, most of all, he wanted to slink away and hide from them both in a place they'd never be able to find him. As Mark approached, Johnny leaned away from him so that there was more non-existent space for Taeyong to breathe. He moved the knife, too, away from Taeyong's throat to hold it above his chest, far away for him to take in a gasping breath, a fish out of water, but close enough for the threat to keep Taeyong alert.