15 - Holding On To Heaven (M)

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Inside the room they used for the first time five years ago, Yoohan clung tightly, desperately, to the same man he gave his body to.

The kiss they shared tasted like iron, smeared blood from bitten lips painted theirs with red. Yoohan was in a daze, too deep inside his perpetual nightmare, but he could feel the hands on him.

On his body, stroking his side, ripped off his jacket, and lifted his shirt roughly. His clothes were disappearing to places he didn't know or care about. His mind was on that hand, touching his skin in a blazing heat and bruising grips.

Yoohan did not shed a moan, nor he was making any sound. He still felt like he was choking, and the only lifeline was the sturdy shoulder he clung to. He even looked distressed when Jay pulled away to take his clothes off, gasping desperately in fright.

For his pitiful, vulnerable darling, Jay showered soft, gentle kisses on Yoohan's face, whispering sweet words of reassurance until the strong grip loosened and he could peel the younger man's clothes off.

When Yoohan's back finally touched the mattress, he was bare, both in body and soul. The black eyes were trembling, looking at the older man as if Jay was the only thing he could see and feel.

The pale eyes hovered above him in a show of blatant possessiveness, with a gaze that told Yoohan there was only him inside that fierce eyes. It left him breathless just to bathe in that gaze and the possessive stroke on his cheek.

"It'll hurt," the low voice was soothing and gentle, but the words that flew out were harsh. "I'll make it hurt," the pale eyes were glinting, as the voice dipped lower.

Yoohan was breathing roughly, just looking up dazedly at the serious face that looked cold and cruel. "I'll make it hurt more than whatever hurting you here,"

The large hand pressed on Yoohan's heaving chest, and while the words were scary, it felt exactly like what Yoohan had wanted.

"So cry it out, pour out everything," the pressing hand shifted toward the trembling eyes, and the fierce eyes turned gentle. "Think of nothing but the pain and the pleasure I'm about to give you."

Yoohan was breathing hard at this point, already feeling like it would be hard for him to think about anything anymore. But the harsh squeeze on his bottom jolted him awake.

"Mm? Answer me,"

"Okay," Yoohan gasped as he replied, eyes flickering beneath the older man. "Oka—hngghh!!"

Jay did not lie about making it harsh and hurting. The thick, long fingers of the large hand pressed the rim and pushed inside with just minimal lubrication from inadequate saliva.

Think of nothing...think of nothing...

As if he was struck with a spell, Yoohan stared dazedly at the man above him, only looking at Jay and nothing more. Only thinking about the fierce fingers pushing inside him and the burn of something harder, something thicker, and God—it hurt.

"Cry, Lee Yoohan."

It stung. It burned. Yoohan heard a whine, a scream, a sob—ah, it was his voice. He felt dizzy and his vision was blurry. It took him a while, until a thumb swept his cheek and rubbed the bottom of his eyes and he realized that he was crying, gasping, sobbing.

He couldn't feel anything but the pain, clinging to the man holding him tight and moving rigorously inside of him. He heard that sweet-sounding voice again, the kisses on his wet cheek and sweaty forehead, and Yoohan grabbed the sturdy back even more, clawing desperately, and buried his teary face in the solid neck.

Yoohan felt it was ridiculous how his heart could feel lighter just by shedding some tears. It was even more ridiculous how he couldn't cry at all before.

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