dlrctv

[dlrctv]

hi lovelies ! i won't be on today as i'm under the weather ( in the middle of heatwave 😔 ) but i'll try to be on tomorrow to do replies. sorry for the hold up on my end.

[dlrctv]

❝ no one has danced with me before you aside my dance instructor, ❞ bae acknowledged this, might be the reason his so infatuated by watching people dance because he has simply never been asked to join anyone --- or people have been deterred by his detachment at events. confessions seems to be what this night is bringing forward, and it wasn't the craziest of confessions - it wasn't even mild. an airy chuckle parts his lips, lightly a hand pats against his shoulder. ❝ i wasn't that cold towards you, distant for sure --- i was a little scared of you. observing you from the far seems to be the safest option for me. in what way ? ❞ playing a little dumb towards the end, just to see what the prince will admit in this new confessional they have made with their bodies. and the next confession was from his body that betrayed the distance in which he was still trying ( failing ) to keep, rosy hue painted his cheeks from the other prince's wondering hand but he didn't shake it off, no he actually welcomed it though he won't admit that out loud. slackness to his body started to un-cease his lean muscles, gently brush of the tip of his nose against the collar of eun-jung's shirt.

❝ that's very bold even for you, eun-jung. though you are correct which i hate to admit as it'll go to that big head of yours but yes, i like you. ❞ feeding into eun-jung's hope as well as his own for whatever this night holds for the two of them, he was hopeful for it... even welcoming it all. again he was glad that the other couldn't see his cheeks which were giving him away, his heart swelled a little at the confession. inching a hair closer to his collar, lips lightly rub against some of the exposed skin not enough but teasing in nature. ❝ eun-jung, if you don't focus on your footing i will step on them. ❞

"if this is you relaxed, i feel so sorry for whomever's had to dance with you before me." eun-jung's voice has softened, fitting with the moment and the way the music flowed. it's above a whisper, just enough for bae to hear him, the words only meant for the other prince anyway, and his chuckle is soft and fond. "all this time, you've been so cold and distant toward me because i fascinate you. we could have been exploring those differences, instead." his hands, placed so properly against the curve of bae's waist, move then, one slipping around to the small of his back, to drag him closer, just a hair, the other moving a path up his chest to rest against the side of his head where he feels it nested against his shoulder.

"i think you'll give me all the chances i want, because i think you like me." it's bold, presumptuous, but eun-jung is hopeful that he's right. because it would be quite the shame to feel this way without any hope of it mattering. "i like you. in case that wasn't blatantly clear before."

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pearlescent encased in dark gold ; lean, ( usually ) stable, wiry muscles quiver under spry skin from the onslaught of slade's dominance over him. he craved being dominated, no one does it better than his demigod. he willingly submitted to him, wherever he wanted him, slade could have him. a whimper thrummed across his vocal cords, parting swollen petals --- a little demure in nature as for some reason this man brought this side out of him during their bed chem. secured into the position of slade's choosing by the coil of muscle securing his waist in place, coyness set in the pit of his stomach causing the nymph to hide his face under his arm, shielding him from the demigod's ravenous eyes. crisp cool surface is the only relief from the heat that was threatening to swallow him from behind, part of him welcomed it and yearned to be swallowed by slade's heat but that wasn't the sane part of his mind, he needed a little relief from the intensity. the tiniest little whine peeps out from him when slade entwines thick fingers with slender ones thus moving his arm so he can't hide from those blazing orbs. and in-su delicate yet slightly callous fingers enclose sturdy fingers, bending them more into his palm --- a neediness came over him edging their hands closest to his chest. no longer hiding himself though his head is hung, raven curtaining his eyes and bits of his face. slade's onslaught from his hips just couldn't be matched ( not by anyone else in the world ), at this angle in-su couldn't rear back to meet those thrusts... but it didn't matter much from this violent, animalistic, and brute snaps of slade's hips. he was getting cock drunk off the savage rhythm.

the nymph couldn't find his tongue, it was lost in his mouth cavity --- had he swallowed it ? a reluctant whine ripped his lips apart though from the loss of security and softness in slade's grip. at the cupping on his chin, in-su shuts his eyes tightly. ❝ uh --- uh, i-i'm not h-hiding from you, i swear. ❞ he spluttered out though it was a lie, he had been trying to hide this whole time as he always did. with his eyes shut he followed the demigod's movements, he knew exactly what was located in this general direction, rose dusting up his cheeks and down his neck. a little refusal in him to look upon what can only be something that needs to be in an old oil painting, forever in time. it didn't take long for in-su to squint open one eye, only to get an eye full of them, it was beautiful to put it simply in his head --- which was the only function. never had he been this deliciously stretched in his life, ever since he's had slade's thick length that's all he's ever wants... needs. the unrelenting thrusts, the refusal to be merciful upon outstretching puckered ring of muscle ( that seemingly kept regaining its usual tightness afterwards ), hips edged up to greet those impossible thrusts on the ruthless timing of them.

❝ stop it, ❞ in-su particularly moaned it out, still trance-fixed on the mirror and them fucking. ❝ stop looking at me. ❞ this time he whined, trying to pull his chin from the ironclad grip to be able to turn away from them. despite loving it... loving them.

@dlrctv. [  BEHIND  ] ;  the sender takes the receiver from behind.

In-Su’s petite frame was successfully trapped, enveloped by hard, immovable muscle carved from dark gold as Slade pressed him firmly against the plain wall, leaving no escape. Ensnared, overpowered, and left trembling on unsteady legs, In-Su could only submit, his lithe form pinned between the appallingly relentless force behind him and the cool surface in front of him. Slade’s massive arm stayed wrapped around In-Su’s delicate, quivering waist, a protective yet possessive hold. His other hand had captured In-Su’s, their fingers interlaced in a firm grip, pressed together against the wall. A tender, almost grounding gesture-------- completely different from the brutal ramming of Slade’s hips as he moved with near violent intensity, tapered frame driving into In-Su with sharp, wet slaps that echoed in the air, a messy and unrestrained tempo that was absolutely primal in its urgency. Those deliciously obscene sounds of In-Su gushing on his cock filled the room, and it was difficult to tell if In-Su was throwing his hips back at all to meet the older, bigger man halfway, or if Slade was just working him with fervor, claiming him so thoroughly that he wouldn't wait for In-Su to so much as struggle to keep up with his terrifying appetite for that perfect little ass. And yet, amidst the hot and uncontrollable desperation of it all, Slade kept their fingers tightly entwined, just barely soothing In-Su with an anchor of doting affection. It was a paradox-------- violent hunger tempered by a quiet intimacy, as if that touch alone joined them to something deeper than the heat consuming them both.

"This is what you wanted, yeah? Don't try and fucking hide from me now," Slade's voice set into a mean, aggressive tone as he slowly released In-Su's hand, palm now sliding underneath the boy’s chin, gripping it with firm authority as he tilted In-Su’s head to the side and forced him to look into the mirror. The reflection was raw and mesmerizing------- a visceral display of a stronger man's sheer dominance and a boy's most gentle submission to him. Slade’s imposing form towered over In-Su, utterly consuming him in size and presence, a powerful demigod of a man ruining a delicate, adorable nymph of a boy. Such a beautiful, breathtaking sight... how Slade didn’t hold back, showing In-Su what it meant to give up his pretty pink holes to a real man with a beautifully thick cock. And, yes, the stretch was merciless, pushing In-Su past limits he likely never thought he’d reach, his trembling body forced to accommodate the sheer size of Slade’s throbbing length. Perhaps, someone smaller or less endowed might've naturally made it easier on him, but Slade wouldn't, couldn't relent. He fucking needed the way In-Su’s tight and gushy walls molded to him, as if they were made to fit together despite the harsh intensity of Slade's cock overstretching that pink puckered ring of muscle. And maybe this was all just for the crazed thrill------ no promises, no strings, no rings. Slade didn’t care. In-Su's sexy little body was giving him a high he doubted anyone else could match, and he intended to feel it as much as physically possible, even if it did make him a devil in the end.

"Look how pretty you are when taking this cock," his tone maneuvered between sweetness and mockery, the kind of knowing inflection that hinted he was fully aware of the flustered reaction he’d effortlessly pull from In-Su. And he loved it.

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❝ most normal people would hold these concerns. ❞ he mumbled out, careful to not touch the wall as it didn't look to clean --- not that he was a worry-wart or anything but even he had his reservations on this dunk apartment building, he will more the likely throw his clothes out after this... if he'll ever get out of here. there was something ominous in the air. ❝ well, i meant that when i wasn't in a dark forsaken apartment building. ❞ he grumbled at grey from where he stood, he hadn't heard footsteps so that was good, right ? what on earth was he thinking when he agreed to this ? oh, that was easy he wanted things to not be strained between them. he had recently even tried to get back out there in the dating side of things but everything was falling flat... and now he stood cautiously in a musky hallway. questioning his own sanity. ❝ depends on the game. ❞

"so many concerns--what ever happened to living freely? life's full of bumps and bruises, my friend. even a healthy scare or two is good for the heart." he didn't press closer. grey breathed in deeply--took in the musky smell of the long-forgotten building. there was comfort in it. an inevitable tug towards temptation that the cloak of darkness provided.

"d'you like games?"

[dlrctv]

part of him wanted to fly under the radar, be a background character to all the shenanigans that are most likely going to happen on this tv show but the other part wanted a little attention from the camera not a lot like the guy who's exuding his alpha male dominance by puffing his chest out to the ladies. his lips cracked upwards in a smile, a chuckle soon followed but a disconnect to the other's words. ❝ yeah, something like that though you have been quite tame for the time that i have been near you. got no antics up your sleeve ? ❞ amusement was building in his chest, feeding off those around him but he remained solid in his calmness, not letting it show or peak out. he turned a little to be able to look at wes better, the fire light illuminating in dance shadows yet flashed with the extra lighting around the pit. ❝ i wouldn't say no but i most definitely need more liquid courage in me for that. ah --- don't be such a spoil-sport, she's working up to it. ❞ his voice towards the end holding a light teasing to them, he threw a glance over to the girl she was definitely on her way of suggesting it, almost bursting at the seams. poor thing. she's going to be a wreck tomorrow. flicking his gaze back to wes, he moves his beer from one hand to the other, reaching out to shake his hand. ❝ you'd be right. this feels very formal don't you think considering where we are. i'm jae-hyun. but the producers will much prefer you call me jae. ❞

although he was clearly a newcomer, it was obvious that this person did his homework before coming on the show. "ah, so my reputation proceeds me." amused, wes places his hands behind his head and gets into a comfortable position. "and here i was thinking i was behaving myself." maybe with a few more drinks he'd cause a scene, but he didn't want to cause the first. being an early exit would be fun for an episode, but get him no long term screen time. wes glances over at the wine women pointed out by the other. "are you saying you wouldn't go skinny dipping? maybe i'll suggest it myself, beat her to the punch." his gaze falls over the guy at his side once more, sizing him up. after a moment, he drops an arm and reaches out his hand. "wes. but it sounds like you already know that."

[dlrctv]

finish off my other replies tomorrow.

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in-su lifted a nyaff stare up to meet nico's gaze, hand falling from the medical kit and moving to rest on his knee. ❝ so, you're telling me that you don't have a first aid kit at home ? ❞ annoyance lingered on the tip of his tongue, had all he wanted from him was to get patched up --- a means to the healing process --- whilst simultaneously ripping open a chest cavity's size wound. ❝ yeah, apparently it slipped my mind. like it slipped your mind to consider me. that's the problem. ❞

" that doesn't mean anything, one thing is coming for a first aid kit and other well... " he shouldn't have to go in depth with what he's implying, his tone just as soft but filled with sincerity. while it wasn't the best of times to say anything, nico let in-su deal with the wounds and bloody lacerations that adorned his body in random parts. " you know i don't do text, call me old school. i hate that shit, i'd rather be up front and say it to your face. why should that be a problem."

[dlrctv]

it was sweet. sweet how beau cared about someone he barely even knew, it showed a lot about his character and added another layer of fondness for si-wan. wanting to know more and the need to do so. he was fascinated by him. more then a stereotypical jock. ❝ yes. but i guess a few of your fans are used to influencers and blur the lines between the professions. just continue their antics. i can tell you care for those closest to you even in this odd situation. thank you for caring as much as you do. seriously, i appreciate it. ❞ si-wan spoke softly, hoping that he wasn't putting too much pressure on beau. already placing strain on whatever this is... he hoped it wouldn't be an issue. because he was enjoying this --- them. fingers lightly brushed over beau's wrist, having noticing him fiddling with his ring, not that he wanted them to stop but to let him know that he was here if he was anxious by any chance.

blinking at the suddenness he was a little taken aback, his mind went racing telling himself to act cool and not be a total dork about things. he stood there with his mouth gape a little, looking a little lost to the world, a heat was creeping up to his cheeks in the main time. ❝ i mean, now seems like a good time to go. ❞ he nodded slowly as if needing to convince himself. ❝ i have nothing important on my agenda for the rest of the day, and i can always go for an iced caramel latte. ❞ he smiled back up at beau, his hand retreating from the closeness to beau. ❝ well, lead the way. ❞

"If people behave that way and call themselves fans, then I'll definitely not let it slide and issue another statement. I'm a basketball player, not some kind of influencer who invests in that weird parasocial relationship format. I care that my family and friends are safe without worries. I'm here for the sports, not for crazy people having weird ideas." Beau already decided he'd get back to his manager and see what they could do. It wasn't just hurting his brand but most of all others unaffected by who he was. It was no option for him to simply look away. He bit his lip, fingers playing with one of the rings to keep himself occupied. Beau was always known to have too much energy, from a very young age. Hence, why his dad dragged him first to soccer and then to basketball which ultimately was the beginning of his desire for a career.

"How about right now?" Beau suggested. Sure, he had come here to check on the other and promise he'd do all he could with the media part but he always had been a little spontaneous. "I mean, I am free for the rest of the day. There's a small place nearby, not one where I feel anyone would give us much thought. I'd invite you, of course!" The bright smile quickly returned to his lips as he was looking at Si-wan. Why wait when they could get started right away? He was more than keen on the thought.

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quirk of a brow, eyes searching the other's there was something so honest and so hitting about this admitted confession, it lacked the usual hoax. ❝ yes, you're quite right. i suppose it is a rose with layers and layers of petals dancing out from pistil... source of the attraction. ❞ he agreed with eun-jung as it all made sense when it was put into those simple terms for him though he couldn't help fond curve upward of his lips. bae easied into steps, following eun-jung lead and carefully looking from his face to over his shoulder. not checking if anyone was watching them but falling into a sense of lull in eun-jung's hands and the music that sings around them. ❝ guess now that we're being honest with each other, you do fascinate me. have since the moment we met. ❞ not being able to hold eye contact with the other prince in case he was to be laughed at... as if he read wrong. so, he opted for looking over his shoulder.

a seesaw comes to the forefront of his mind. though instead of it flowing up and down as it should, the seats are hovering above the ground from being perfectly balanced... is that what they are ? a balance to each other. or simply a balancing act waiting to plummet ? he wasn't sure but he was willing to find out. ❝ pardon. ❞ he splattered out, never had he been called out --- hell he knew he was tension but still. "❝how do you know this isn't me relaxed ? ❞ he questioned but he took a deep breath and shook out the tension from his shoulders, relaxed into his embrace. chuckling lightly he rested his head on the other's shoulder, hand slipping between his shoulder blades, resting. ❝ let's try to give boffet the night off. keep focusing on the dance. or i might not give you a chance afterwards. ❞

"attraction isn't just about physical beauty, you know. it's layered and changes over time to fit little quirks and interests. of course you're gorgeous, don't misunderstand me when i say that, but you're also high stung and proper and something about that's interesting to me." he hadn't really intended for his teasing to draw out a little confession, no matter how inconsequencial that confession might be, but it does linger for a moment as he carefully presses a hand against bae's back, fingers find a point to lightly press, attempting to release some of that tension he can feel building in the other prince so easily.

perhaps, because eun-jung is so terribly and famously free-spirited, he can't wrap his mind around the idea of tight shoulders and weighty family expectations. he's a prince, but he doesn't feel like he needs to be anything besides that. instead, he's just a man with the means to make his flights of fancy more viable for himself. "relax." he says it quietly, a smile still on his face as he twists bae around in time with the music. "you still look at dignified and regal as you ever have, no one is judging you here. and if they are, i have a guard named boffet who can handle them."

[dlrctv]

had to attend a baby shower and i'm literally drained from it with a headache. so, all my replies will come tomorrow --- sorry for the wait.

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allusion flicked across his eyes as if in on a little joke of his own though it was just out of his reach, fingers not being able to clasp onto the substance of his own preferences... they're there but buried under some fog that keeps the boy at bay. fact was he simply preferred his partners to be older than himself, never had anyone his age really been able to hold him down like someone with age on their side --- made them wiser in the bedroom. part of him liked to be told that he's a good boy, especially for his partners though it never had the same effect on him if someone his age said it to him, sounded wrong even. was that part of the reason he so willingly went wherever this man told him ? or how he eagerly waits for him to text him back ? this giddiness to be craved by this man... this unattainable man. has this only been since he awoken in the hospital or had it always been this way ? a waiting game.

... the scars littered across his abdomen, a gnarly four inch scar directly vertical runs down his left thigh ( it was a mere millimetre from severing his femoral artery... so close to death ) had all the bandages off them, no longer needing that protection --- partially healed. though the same could not be said for his beloved car, a 1967 chevrolet camaro which of course had a custom job that he knew in his heart that he had done ( and someone else was there ), a lilac blue with black accents. yeah, there was no saving his car and he was still mourning over it, he had put a lot of work into the car... that it had become like a beloved pet to him. something went wrong that night, he wasn't on his game but that wasn't it something sinister was afoot.

a rock in the ocean. slade had become his rock ever since he left the hospital ( as all his family is still in jeju, south korea ) so he had no one here for support and even though he couldn't truly remember somethings in his life, he knew he kept them very much in the dark and therefore, he refused to tell them that he had been hospitalised, seriously so. so he clung tightly, a fear he couldn't quite place that the other would vanish without a trace, leave him in the dust but his subconscious was squirrelly since his accident as it wasn't such an accident though he was unaware at this moment. hazing fog kept it from his mind. his ears in-tuned to his voice ( it demands to be listened too ), light tilt of his chin towards the man it belonged to though his gaze shyly stay away from those vortex hues, shaking his head at him before he speaks. ❝ no-no-no, i'm not ready just yet. ❞ shaking of his head as dislodged his fringe which sweeps over his forehead and astew out of place. ❝ not that i'm scared or anything of the sort. just need more time. i mean i just had my bandages taken off before coming here. ❞ he mumbles towards the end, a phantom pain ghosting over his thigh, left hand comes to bring relief to it. rubbing the scar through his pants, a new nervous habit ? maybe.

drifting back to look out the front of the windshield the display of excitement was palpable through the glass, burning flashes from the shine of car hoods reflecting the sun but he was caught off guard by the softness from the other, even in this state he knew that wasn't like slade. ❝ miss this ? " light bafflement dances across his features, tilt to the side almost innocently. hope. and hope shattered in the same breath at the sharpness of the words. ❝ i do. i miss the racing that's for sure but i've only just healed up from the physical scars. ❞ not even bothering to mention the mental scar which are open wounds still, have yet to be stitched back together again... will they ever be stitched back together to be able to heal. ❝ but i appreciate you bring me here. this place feels like home away from home. ❞ he smiles over at slade and instantly regrets meeting the man's stare, shyly his browns fall to the gear shift. the man is ridiculously beautiful and commanding, that demanded to be worshipped by all who look upon him. centuries ago, some sculptor would've crafted out of brozen a statue in slade's likeness for all the people to worship at its feet, pray upon his beauty to give them good fortune, and some to seek strength for their next battle.

shyness reverts his eyes from the god-like beauty.

❝ are we --- uh... gonna get out ? ❞

Slade's mouth twitched faintly at the subtle jab about his age, a glint of something playfully wicked in his blazing stare. Part of him wanted to call In-Su out and remind him that him being older had never been an issue before, that if anything, the boy had seemed to prefer it in the past. But with a furrow of his brows and a sharp tug of restraint, he reminded himself why he was here. Flirting, teasing, all had no place in what he was trying to do for In-Su. It'd be wrong as hell, selfishly indulging just to test the waters, to coax buried memories out of darkened depths. Slade would never forgive himself for taking advantage of In-Su like that, especially after everything. They hadn’t even been together when the accident happened. That was on him, Slade supposed. He thought he’d been doing the right thing, sparing In-Su from the chaos of his life... The boy had never belonged in Slade’s reckless orbit, and the last thing he’d wanted was to drag him into a doomed future marred by Slade’s reputation, his past, and his inability to ever settle down. Sure, the fast life was a rush------- exhilarating, free, and intense. The cars, near-deadly races, whirlwind journeys to far-off, glamorous places, meeting beautiful strangers waiting for his attention, catering to his every whim... Slade thrived in it. He lived for it. But it wasn’t a life for In-Su, who still had the chance for a clean record leading to a way more ordinary life. Bringing him in had been a mistake, one that left the boy exposed, not just to law enforcement, but to the enemies Slade had collected over a lifetime of complicated decisions. Maybe In-Su didn’t need to stop racing altogether, but he sure as hell needed to get far away from Slade, and from an older man who was addicted to the storm, who would never be able to give him the quiet, stable life he deserved. Slade used to dream of a life where he could settle down, have a family, but he'd destroyed it with his own two hands. He was in his forties now, and honestly, it surprised him that he was even still alive. ...So, when Slade got word of the accident (a year after their relationship had fallen apart,) he couldn’t fucking believe it. The guilt shattered his whole world, but it wasn’t why he was here. No, Slade was here because he owed something to the boy who’d once held his heart so completely. Maybe he still did. But this wasn’t about them, not anymore.

Slade would be his confidant, his rock, for as long as that was needed. He could keep it together and keep shit balanced for the both of them. "You think you're ready to get behind the wheel again?" he shoots a rather apprehensive glance at In-Su, though his stares never linger for too long. In-Su was as unbearably distracting as the day they'd first met, too beautiful for words, and so of course when the boy asked to be a part of his crew all that time ago, Slade's initial resistance to having someone so much younger and newer to the pack wavered in the face of his terrible greed and desire. Slade didn't consider himself the worst man in the world; he thought he was mostly good, especially towards his loved ones. ...But when that pit of dark lust, a ravenous beast, mounted within him, it did make him take on more nefarious tones, and so he'd guided In-Su under his wing with selfish delight, wanting to teach but always just wanting, demanding and commanding.

Race Wars had been another one of their late night, half-serious ideas born over greasy beers and the rhythmic clinking of tools in their shared workspace. The memory of it was still vivid as ever, pulling at his mind aggressively, tormentingly. Back then, they'd spent hours in the dimly lit garage, heads bent over the exposed engine bay of a ‘68 Camaro, shoulders brushing as they worked together. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above mingled with the scent of motor oil and the steady hiss of compressed air from the pneumatic wrench. Slade remembered the way In-Su’s hands had carefully tightened the valve cover bolts after they’d reseated the lifters, his brow furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Slade had been fine-tuning the carburetor, his calloused fingers deftly adjusting the air-fuel mixture screws to ensure the engine wouldn’t choke under full throttle. Something about the intimate quiet of the garage, seeing each other coated in grease and sweat, made it all just not about the car. Every laugh over a dropped socket, every casual brush of a hand passing tools------- they were little exciting teases building up to raw electricity between them. The memory shifted, darkened, as his thoughts snagged on a moment when Slade had the boy, his good little boy, pinned over the hood to take his big cock, that gleaming chrome surface reflecting the handsomely devious smirk on his face. ...Nevertheless, he forced himself to shove the image back into the recesses of his mind, though the violent thudding in his chest refused to calm and settle.

When it came to Race Wars and the streets, Slade still enjoyed a casual race now and then, and maybe he'd even take a random bet worth some quick cash if it intrigued him enough. But these days, his approach was more calculated. He liked watching the crew handle the mayhem------ his crew, every one of them a speed demon in their own right, molded by the streets and taught, at least in part, by him. Riding with Slade wasn’t just about skill; it was about precision, fearlessness, and natural instinct. That’s why novices and casuals rarely got a rise out of him. Slade craved challenges, the unexpected, competitions capable of matching his intensity, his control. Invitations to Race Wars weren’t given lightly; they were reserved for the bold and reckless prodigies with grease-stained hands and unshakable nerves. And if In-Su wanted to take his car to go ahead and race, Slade thought, then he could have it. After all, the boy earned his place at Slade’s side, both on and off the track, even if they'd never be lovers again.

"Do you miss it at all? This?" The words came out too soft, too heavy with something dangerously close to affection. Slade immediately backpedaled, his tone more cutting now, laced with a speck of frustration. "The racing. The fast life. It's fine if you don't------ after everything that's happened." He didn’t want to think about In-Su in that goddamn fucking hospital bed, the sterile white walls seemingly mocking their hellish lives. But Slade had never been good at talking around the hard stuff, and avoidance wasn’t his style. The Dodge rolled to a slow stop just off the main dirt path, the rumble of the engine fading as he killed the ignition. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, instead turning his massive frame toward the boy. His complexion, kissed by the sun and shaped by the relentless demands of his life, gleamed in the light with a rich, almost fluid depth------ an earthy, molten bronze that seemed to have been crafted by the desert itself. Every detail of his frame exuded dominance and precision: broad, commanding shoulders that flowed seamlessly into powerful arms. Veins coiled like rivers across his sculpted biceps, standing out even more when one hand rested firmly on the wheel, the tension in his grip making the strength beneath his skin an all the more glorious sight. ...He studied In-Su, as if the answer to everything he couldn’t ask might be written in the curve of his jaw or the lovely glimmer in his eyes. The ache in him had finally grown savage, clawing at his ribs and threatening to devour him from the inside out. How long could he carry it before it devastated him entirely? Slade’s jaw tightened before he forced himself to let go of the wheel. How big could this longing grow before he’d have to carve it out of himself, like a wound too deep to heal?

[dlrctv]

lips tightly rub together, drawing a thin line of trepidation, not being able to answer due to surprise from the power cut. had grey planned this ? to be alone in a desolate apartment building, his heart hammered against his ribcage. could grey hear it ? ❝ no, though i have my concerns about tripping over and spraining an ankle... or falling and needing a tetanus shot. ❞ the raven hair boy answered, before falling into back steps and one side step to bring his back flesh against the hallway wall.

open to all genders horror plots galore~

"i just have one question--are you afraid of the dark?" just as the words left grey's lips, the power in the small apartment shut off, leaving the two of them in complete darkness.

[dlrctv]

full, curve of his rear cushioned against sturdy elastic fibers bundled together under a plush layer of epidermis, a throne fit for a king. motions drift so effortlessly into their last night together, to effortlessly. it shouldn't be this easy, they should be feral with caged animal energy and at each other's throats. not falling into the snare of intimacy. incurve spine drawing him closer to the table than to his husband's loving touch, distance brought by a detachment that happened years ago. never been stitched back together by either. moon-jo should've fled then in the middle of the night, faking his death and starting a new. lacking the heartlessness to do so to the one and only person he had ever loved. not tied down. but a tether had kept him close to edward, an unwanting to leave. edward was plucked from the recesses of moon-jo's mind ; hunky, classically handsome, and possessive nature. moon-jo liked to be the center of his husband's affection, liked the way that he didn't hold back... aggressively fervidness touches from large hands that can encompass his waist, he welcomed it and longed for it... still to this day, he finds himself fantasizing about those heated nights. however, his mind drifts back to the present, the last night of us. a record on repeat over and over it is played through his brain. is it because moon-jo loved edward he's letting this stretch out into the night ? he believed so. but there was an undeniable thrill coursing through his bloodstream at the outcome of prolonging this last time with edward. ever-changing the outcome in his mind's eye.

never did a mark have this effect on him. until now.

riveted by the predatory blues on him, locked and burning... with a newfound hunger. primitive in nature like breathing in air, death and sex entwining into one once again. measured swallows of wine, soft tantalising bob of the last sip of wine as a married man, savouring the earthy taste. pillowy tips press lightly upon hasten pulse, peered over willowly shoulder at the man, flashing him a knowing smile. it ends tonight. wrath, lust and pride morphing together into this dangerous desire. a marvel. he wanted to relish in it for a little bit longer. selfishly so. ever fleeting the friction in between well-built thighs, regaining the ideals of whom he was suppose to be in this instance... a sweet little house-husband whom let his husband take whatever he wants. drawing his knee away, pressing his knees together, reining that side of him in. edward need not know who he truly was --- though did it truly matter now ? grasping onto the charade that had been shattered the moment edward walked through the door. if he wanted to distract / disarm his husband, he would've done so. swiftly and libidinous. but then he stopped --- intrigued by exactly what his dear husband had been hiding from him all these years, he needs to see him without his mask. dangerous as it may cost his life, he just had to know whether a good idea or bad will be his undoing.

having turned back to look upon the table, not a thing looked out of place, he admired his handiwork. in actuality, he slipped the heavy weight silver fork into his shirt's sleeve, careful placement of his arm lazily on the table, nimble fingers barely seen poking out from the sleeve. cat calls that if he wasn't wise nor in the know he'd fall victim to them, this sweet lull before electrified passion. but even if he'd be nor the wiser, moon-jo still would be sceptical as it has been far to long since his husband ravished him. light shack of his head, shifting raven curtain bangs closer together. ❝ such a sweet thought but i'm not hungry, darling. ❞ sheepishly he said as if giving the illusion he wants to do exactly as edward says, pouting out his bottom lip. had he poisoned the food before him, no. not since he slaved over the cook stovetop for this meal, it'd ruin the taste of the food and he couldn't have that as he was perfect and therefore his food had to be perfect --- it might've been easier if he had poisoned the food or the wine, could've been all over by now. relish in it. echoed in his head again, wanting to take his time with this one as he was ever so special to him. purposeful blush on his cheeks when a giant hand moved his body to edward's liking, his pointer finger slipped under his sleeve to bring the fork flat against his skinny wrist. ❝ what's gotten into you ? ❞ he asked now face to face, his nose crinkling up a little. this wasn't part of the plan... he'd adjust as he always did. though it wasn't long after straddling his husband's thighs that the attack on his neck occurred, a surprised lament ripped through his throat --- finger releases the fork to let it hang perpendicular to his elbow from bunching up the length of sleeve, his hand retreats from his pulse bored of the rush of blood to the nape, nimble fingers one with a wedding band stretch out over vulnerable skin to luscious locks, still full and healthy. ❝ edward. ❞ whispered down between them, his eyes fixated on the man kissing each knuckle as if in farewell, seemingly so distracted by his efforts. he wasn't, he just appeared to be so. sacrificial lamb.

obedient nods from his head, submissively. he knew his husband liked to be in control and so he vanquished his control over to him --- danger. doe-like eyes peeped into the hunter's gaze, a thrilling gleam electrified his hues though, something new. the bruising grip on his chin will certainly leave a mark in those fingers' wake, fluttering lashes shut as their lips met in the middle. danger. a kiss of death is what they shared ; slow, amatory, and to his lips being pried open by a thick tongue... thus his own tongue was pushed around by edward's as always, letting him take what he wants from him --- his hum of satisfaction bloomed a neediness to submit to this moment even if it is the last. a moan caught the tip of his tongue flicking it along the roof of edward's mouth at the serrated blade kissing into the small of his back. danger. brought a twist upturn to his lips, only one whom was in this situation would be terrified but he lacked that, it strangely thrilled him to his core.

❝ yeah. is that all for me ? ❞ he edged closer to edward's body, only to push back into the blade letting it dig into his flesh though it had yet to split his skin, uncomfortable but he liked it. getting high off of it. even with the ironclad grip on his hip, he managed to slowly move his hips inwards against the thickening cock trapped against his husband's thigh. danger. ❝ so romantic of you. ❞ he mumbled against soft lips, front teeth lightly snagging his bottom lip, barely nimbing before tugging the plush skin. pulling away just a fraction, forehead resting against his husband's forehead, nose stroking the ridge of his nose. slipping out the fork, pushing it flesh against his neck, prongs cushion into flesh. ❝ are you going to do me ? ❞ he questioned as if he didn't have a knife at the base of his spine, killers / spies like moon-jo would have some sort of fear in this moment but he lacked it oddly enough. ❝ how long have you fantasised about this very moment, edward ? to make me yours forever, you going to take a keepsake to remember me... ❞ moon-jo's voice was lost in a daydream though the fork hadn't weaver once. playing into the killer's instinct of his husband --- how deep did it run ? was he one for keepsakes ? cute. ❝ i'd like that. you have something to remember me by. ❞

Edward fought to keep himself composed. Under ordinary circumstances, such thick tension while waiting wouldn’t have stretched this far. He enjoyed playing with his food now and then, savoring the heated thrill of a prolonged hunt, but this wasn’t one of those times. The tug-of-war between predator and prey usually sent fire surging through his veins, and he couldn’t deny the heady rush of those moments when someone begged for their life; there weren’t many highs that could rival it. Edward had still granted Moon-Jo a leeway he never would've extended to anyone else-------- a fact that differed heavily from his blood-soaked record of brutalized bodies. Edward was vicious, a predator through and through, and sending Moon-Jo in to confront him alone? That was a bold gamble. Perhaps their plan hinged on Moon-Jo’s role as Edward’s beloved spouse (a bond now cracked but not fully severed) to buy them an edge. And disturbingly enough, they weren’t wrong. Edward had given Moon-Jo time to prove his innocence or to make the first move. Deep in his gut, a part of him still wanted his husband. He knew that he shouldn’t. His love was smothered under the weight of climbing anger and hate, emotions burning hotter with each passing moment. And yet, even that rage was just another shade of his love, twisted, but not the cold indifference or sadism he reserved for his usual marks. Moon-Jo wasn’t a victim to be toyed with for pleasure or profit. Not yet, anyway.

The smaller, svelte figure slid effortlessly onto Edward’s solid thigh, sealing Edward’s decision. He knows now-------- this was meant to be his last meal. All that’s left is to hold back the storm brewing within him long enough to drive the steak knife into Moon-Jo’s back, a poetic end for an absolute fucking liar of his caliber. Would Edward mourn his husband or merely the idea of him? Perhaps. The love had been real once, but love doesn’t govern a killer’s heart. By the end of it all, men like Edward always choose themselves. ...Moon-Jo’s impossibly smooth fingers (how did he keep them so soft, even amidst his deceitful work?) graze the pulse in Edward’s throat, where it pounds quite heavily, though not from nerves. Proximity alone has always been enough for Moon-Jo to evoke a reaction. He’s everything designed to ensnare someone like Edward: soft, beautiful, and graceful. A creature Edward could snap in half with a flick of his giant wrist, yet one who drank in Edward’s aggression and obsessiveness without breaking. For a time, those first few years at least, it had been a euphoric ride, an intoxicating whirlwind of passion and power. Edward doesn’t regret those moments. What he regrets is not killing Moon-Jo sooner, back when the fire first began to dim. But despite his penchant for sadism, Edward had lacked the specific cruelty required to turn his full hostility toward someone he once loved.

Until now.

His head tips slightly, smoldering blues alight with curiosity and fixating properly on Moon-Jo. He watches as the man sips his wine, the subtle bob of his small Adam’s apple with each delicate swallow drawing Edward’s gaze down the milky expanse of his throat. It riled up an almost maddening urge to lean forward and press kisses there. Something about the knowledge of this being their last true night together amplified his need for intimacy, even as it set his internal alarms ringing. He chalked it up to his nature, choosing pride over logic. ...For a man like Edward, danger and desire came intertwined. How many times had he returned home after a kill, adrenaline pumping through his veins, only to take Moon-Jo against the nearest surface? This craving wasn’t new; it was a part of him, as natural as the bloodlust that drove his other impulses. But then he felt it------- a knee nudging between his powerful thighs, brushing idly against the rigid heat straining behind his tailored suit trousers. Edward, ever disciplined, swallowed the grunt that threatened to escape, though his lashes fluttered briefly, betraying his surprise. The friction was slight, hardly enough to distract him, especially with the heat already simmering through his bloodstream. But, the idea that Moon-Jo believed this would be enough to disarm him was laughable. Unless, of course, Moon-Jo was angling to be fucked before dinner had even ended.... though Edward sincerely doubted that.

The savage killer in him decided on playing along, escalating the game for his own amusement. Seduction had never been Edward’s initial weapon of choice------- it rarely needed to be. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled in the art when the moment called for it. He was keenly aware of how his striking, classical good looks could lull unsuspecting victims into letting their guard down, convincing them he might be a hero instead of the monster he truly was. "Actually," he began, voice surprisingly still as steady and calm as the sleeping ocean, with an endearing warmth------ a hint of something almost like adoration curling at the edges, "I thought I’d feed you, my sweet little husband." If this were any other night, Edward might have savored one of their usual games: Moon-Jo doting on him, servicing him like a King before the feast. That kind of submission had always been enough to keep Edward utterly enthralled, wrapped around Moon-Jo’s pretty fingers. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Edward slid a broad hand beneath Moon-Jo’s thigh, dragging it across his lap with an effortless strength, grip then shifting so that powerful hands could adjust Moon-Jo’s hips until he was straddling him, forced to face Edward’s grim smirk head-on. Edward’s blue eyes had darkened, the playful glint in them tempered by something far more animal. He leaned in, scrumptious lips brushing the vulnerable skin of Moon-Jo’s throat, coarse beard grazing the soft flesh as he mouthed a line along it. He kissed up the delicate curve of Moon-Jo’s jaw before capturing one of his hands, bringing it to his lips. Edward went about kissing each knuckle and slender finger with a fervent, almost reverent hunger, and for a fleeting moment? A wave of emotion swelled harshly in his chest. The idea of interrogating Moon-Jo like this, pressing him for answers, tempted Edward. But what would it matter? They’d both swallowed lies... maybe it was best to finish this now, to set aside sentiment and sensitivity. After all, neither of them had ever been saints, and their work demanded such never-ending sacrifices.

"No talking." Edward’s tones set in a rasped, guttural warning, the final signal that any pretense of conversation was fucking over. He dropped Moon-Jo’s delicate hand, callused thumb and forefinger gripping Moon-Jo’s chin instead, yanking him forward into a bruising kiss. Their lips met slowly at first, almost tentative, as if Edward were soaking in one final taste. Then his tongue swept over Moon-Jo’s bottom petal, prying apart those soft, pliant lips and delving deeper, exploring, memorizing. The lingering flavor of wine on Moon-Jo’s tongue drew a faint hum of satisfaction from Edward, even as his grip tightened. One hand stayed firmly planted against Moon-Jo’s slender hip, pressing him down, while the other slid deliberately along the curve of his back. It moved with purpose, thick, powerful fingers closing around the hilt of the steak knife resting just out of sight. The big man drew it closer, blade gliding up beneath the hem of Moon-Jo’s shirt, until the cold steel kissed the warm skin of his lower back.

"You feel that?" Edward rumbled darkly against that sweet pink-tinted mouth, his voice a gravelly growl that matched the unrestrained hunger in his movements. He didn’t let Moon-Jo pull away, their tongues still tangling with a feral intensity. "That’s what you do to me…"

And it's not specified whether he means his thickening cock... or the knife.

[dlrctv]

bound and unbound. hypothetic ropes of familiar expectations bind his arms behind his back, numbness cutting in his arms by duty and honour. how the other prince had remained unrestrained ? baffled and mystified him, has kept his interest in him all this time. fanned the flame that ignited from velvet beauty of perfectly and precisely laid features. beautiful. eun-jun was beautiful, he feared that he always has been and will remain beautiful. untouchable timeless beauty. yet the pins and needles of his bounds being loosened by eun-jung whenever he was in his presence, really. a strange freedom expanded out his ribcage, wing stretched out he takes the hand more with a greedy need, clench of fingers fret against the back of his hand.

when bodies collide together, a surprised shaky exhale leaves him though he hoped the other prince didn't notice. ignoring his slip, an arm drapes over his shoulder, soft hand resting in between shoulder blades, nestling a home. ❝ how can i not ? you made quite a first impression, eun-jung. one which i can't forget so easily. ❞ he admits helplessly in a sense, no use lying being this close as eun-jung will hear the beats of his tell-tale heart. though stiffness returned to his shoulders at how open eun-jung was being and it caught him off guard again. ❝ your honesty... is uh- welcomed. ❞ he mumbled a little, voice falling short. yet his body moved in-sync with eun-jung. ❝ it's foolish of you to behold onto opposite attract as attraction is an ever-fleeting thing. one morning you may wake it will be a thing of the past. ❞

eun-jung already thinks bae is cute. that's a foregone conclusion. he's thought as much for as long as he's known the serious and high strung prince. but this moment, the moment where his words seem to sink in and the other prince seems to be on the back foot, that's truly a moment where cute becomes endearing in a very real way. eun-jung's smile changes, softens in a way that feels too sweet to be teasing anymore. perhaps part of it is the agreement he's finally dragged from the man to dance with him. a hand comes out, offered to bae with the flourish he would never truly lose, even in a soft moment like this one, and he takes a step toward the dance floor, pulling the other prince flush to his body as another of those soft, droning songs begins. "do you remember the first time we met, bae? because i do, with a vivid clarity that startles even me, sometimes. i always thought when people said opposites attract, that they were simply being stupid, and then i met you, and realized what that really means."

[dlrctv]

in-su crouched low, balancing and hovering over his heels, fingers idly plucking through the contents of the first aid kit. ❝ you're the one that came to my place, remember. ❞ tender concern bled in his voice, chin tilting upwards to look at nico. fingers still busying themselves with the medical gear, keep his mind at bay from drifting to the territory of this might be their last time. the end. ❝ you could've just texted or called if you needed a break, nico. ❞

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 : f / m 21 + 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 : nico romanov, 25-29.

⸻ ❝ this isn't what i need right now, i need a break. ❞

[dlrctv]

yejun has spent all his afternoon in the library, actually, it has become his second home, spent more time there than at his apartment. hours upon hours of studying dichotomy of enthusiastically knowing more and insignificantly knowing nothing, infuriating him for the past hour. the anchored weight of study, it dawns upon all uni students though he didn't help himself barely any breaks, only did he stop when the words on the screen started to spin and twist and contort into odd circular shapes. it was time to stretch his legs, leaving all his belongings aside from his phone and wallet.

he was up.

and gone.

made a bee-line straight for the on campus coffee shop to get an iced americano with a few extra shots to subside this tiredness within him. it might get his eyes to function properly. a ghost town within the store, it barely took any time for the barista to make his order and he collected it. still everything was a little hazy on his part, it hadn't occurred to him that he still had his reading glasses on... he continued onwards to leave until a collision of flesh and bones happened. liquid run down his palm and forearm, thankfully though he had a short sleeve shirt unbuttoned over white tank top, quickly he moved to try not to get any coffee on his shirt. ❝ i'm sorry. my eyes are still trying to focus. ❞ he grumbled down, not looking at the voice that was certainly attached to a body as he felt the body.

as the voice continued on, there was a haunting familiarity, he pushed that to the back of his mind. ❝ i didn't get any on you, did i ? ❞ he asked carefully his arm hangs away from his body to not stain his shirts. ❝ hurt me ? ❞ he lightly chuckled, shake of his head. why was this guy fuzzy ? ❝ a little unstable, yes. but not hurt. ❞ he says, squinting through his glasses at the other.

bosung had finished cleaning and preparing his station at the coffee shop for the person taking over with the few remaining minutes left of his shift after having survived both the morning and lunch rushes unscathed. and he was thankful that time seemed to be moving pretty quickly. he thought it was going to be yet another ordinary day where nothing special or interesting happened but that changed the moment he'd spotted them walking through the shop doors. the very last person he expected to ever come across again; the person he'd spent three of his high school years pining over. when he came to the realization that they hadn't seen him, he did the only rational thing he could think of. bosung slipped into the kitchen to hide out until he was let go for the day. when he thought the coast was clear, after timing out, he made a dash for the door and he almost made it, too, before bumping into somebody. "shit, sorry." he mumbled before looking up to see who it was. bosung repeated another intentional, "shit," when he realized it was exactly the person he was trying to avoid. equal parts hoped they would and wouldn't recognize him as his appearance had changed more than just slightly since they'd last seen each other. "i'm sorry," he repeated again, this time with a bow of his head. "i wasn't looking where i was going. are you okay— i didn't hurt you, did i?"

muse: bosung im, sang heon lee, twenty three open to: any plot: he had a thing for your muse in their high school years and they would always turn him down but he's had a bit of a glow up since / while performing his mandatory military service ( surprise, surprise, they ended up at the same university ) and they're coincidentally meeting for the first time since high school note: while the thread does take place in south korea, your muse does not have to be korean but they would have gone to the korean same high school and now the same korean university

[dlrctv]

Dracula (1897) and Strangers From Hell (2019) part 2 This man belongs to me!