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“So boring.”
Lee Taeyong sighs at his own reflection in the window of a penthouse overlooking a bustling cityscape, the glowing nightlife like twinkling stars around his impassive face. A luxurious white robe hangs loose off his shoulder, his skin still flushed and damp from lounging in a rooftop jacuzzi. The flute swirling lazily in his hand is nearly empty, the champagne inside warm and flat by now.
He’s living the lavish life of a job that’s overstayed its welcome.
“What’s with the long face, Christian?” Someone appears behind Taeyong in his reflection, a wide-set man in his late forties with a thick beard named Luis Durà. His hand caresses the nape of Taeyong’s neck as he passes, admiring short spiky strands of black hair. “Didn’t like the show? I remember you said it was your favorite play.”
Taeyong plasters on a convincing smirk for Durà. “Oh, come now. Was all just teasing before tonight, wasn’t it?” he asks with the delicate French accent Durà swoons for.
Christian is the façade Taeyong started wearing three months ago, back when he infiltrated Durà’s household as a piano teacher for Durà’s son. Seducing Durà took no time at all—he’s indifferent to his aging wife and outspokenly interested in exploring new things—but cracking into Durà’s personal laptop hasn’t been as simple. Being the COO of a commodities company earning profits well beyond its investment deserves a fair amount of confidentiality, but Durà can’t resist the temptation of an impromptu “business trip” with his feisty younger lover and slips up.
In one moment, Taeyong is shrugging off his robe and inviting Durà to the bedroom, letting greedy hands roam his lithe body and spread him over the silk sheets. In the next, Durà is knocked out from a potent dosage of sleeping drugs while Taeyong uses his fingerprints to access the laptop.
“Really made me work for this one, dirty old bastard,” Taeyong grouses to Durà’s nude unconscious form while pulling on a muted black outfit of fitted jeans, a warm jacket, and a baseball cap tugged low over his face. The information he needs is downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, the hotel security camera feeds are rigged to scramble at midnight, and Taeyong can still catch a red-eye flight out of the country if he hurries. “Your kid’s a natural talent, though. Doesn’t need me around anymore.”
Taeyong doesn’t breathe easily until the airplane leaves the ground. By the time Durà wakes up and learns he’s been swindled, Taeyong will be long gone.
Ideally, he would’ve traveled directly to Beijing to deliver the USB to his client, but his flight is set to layover in Moscow for some hours, leaving him with unwanted time to waste in the airport lounge. He slouches into a stiff plastic chair and opens his phone, planning to send confirmation details to his client’s intermediary through their private channel, but finds a message in his SMS inbox received just minutes ago.
No one with Taeyong’s contact information should know his current whereabouts. An anomaly like this should mean wiping his data clean and discarding his phone, but a strange sense of dread compels him to investigate. He surveys the lounge to make sure he isn’t being watched before opening the message, and inside he’s given an unfamiliar local address and a photo of a man in army uniform on his knees with his arms bound behind him, forced to look into the camera by a hand wrenching his head back.
Despite years of barely any contact, Taeyong recognizes the young soldier’s strong brow ridge, stately nose and chiseled jawline instantly and his heart stops. “No… J-Jeno?!” Taeyong gasps and almost drops his phone from how quickly he sits up, his hand trembling in shock. Even after the painstaking care he’s taken in shielding his family from his unsavory profession, keeping a distance from them the past eight years, sending money anonymously and brief letters riddled with half-truths, his little brother has still been endangered because of him.
Panic like he’s never felt before keeps him rooted to his spot, eyes taking in every detail of the photo for anything that could explain the situation. There’s blood dripping down one side of Jeno’s face and dotting his ripped shirt, bruises on his cheek and his eye, but Taeyong can see the fight in his agitated snarl. He’s been roughed up, but his life likely isn’t in immediate danger. Whoever kidnapped him has a personal grudge against Taeyong, and Taeyong can think of only one man in Russia with both the means and motive.
Taeyong tosses his compromised phone in the trash as he dashes out of the airport. Before he finds his brother, he has to make a detour to visit an old client.
The unfamiliar address leads to a small disused warehouse on the outskirts of the city, a trip that takes hours into the cold winter’s night. The two goons guarding the entrance pull the rusty doors open without a word as Taeyong approaches, and they make no attempt to apprehend him or check him for weapons while following him inside the dimly lit depths like an honored guest. The murderous fire in Taeyong’s glare means nothing—there’s no chance he’ll try anything risky with his brother held captive and they know that.
Taeyong isn’t even given an audience with their boss before they guide him underground through a long narrow concrete corridor, stopping in front of the last door. “What the fuck is this? Is he in here?” Taeyong barks at the unresponsive men. One of them unlatches the solid iron door and the other shoves Taeyong forward, making him stumble into the room and slamming the door shut behind him.
From the meager size of the room, it could have been a storage closet that’s been repurposed. It’s barely large enough for the tin table and cot occupied by a sleeping young man with tousled blood-red hair, giving Taeyong only two steps before his legs would hit the cot. A light fixture swings from the ceiling and a single vent above keeps the stifling air from becoming suffocating. The camera in the upper corner of the room whirrs as it focuses on Taeyong, but Taeyong can’t pay his audience any attention right now.
“Jeno? Jeno!” Taeyong shouts excitedly and rushes to jostle his brother awake by the shoulders. Jeno groans and squints in the light, groggy but alive, and Taeyong envelops in a relieved hug. “God, you’re okay, thank fuck. You had me scared shitless.”
In the confusion of the moment, Jeno breaks out of Taeyong’s embrace and shoves him back, eyes narrow with bleary suspicion. Taeyong isn’t surprised Jeno doesn’t recognize him immediately after eight years apart, since he was twenty-one and Jeno was just fourteen. “You… you’re…,” Jeno’s hoarse voice rises as his memory fills in the missing pieces. “Hyung…? T-Taeyong-hyung? It’s really you?!”
Jeno sits up on the cot and brings Taeyong back into a crushing hug, catching Taeyong off guard with how strong he is now. “Jeez, all right, c’mon. Lemme look at you,” Taeyong wheezes and pats Jeno’s sides affectionately until he lets go. Taeyong holds Jeno by the shoulders as he scans him for injuries, finding nothing other than those seen in the photo. Oddly, his captors have cleaned and bandaged the wounds on Jeno’s face, a patch of gauze adhered to Jeno’s left temple. His skin is flushed and damp with perspiration, hopefully from the stuffy room. “They get you anywhere else? Can you walk?”
Jeno’s eyes curve in a weak smile and he pulls Taeyong’s hands away, moving to sit at the edge of the cot beside him. He’s still wearing the same ruined t-shirt, muddied fatigues and boots. “I’m fine, just… a little hot, but—you, how’re you here?” He looks concerned for Taeyong rather than himself. “Were you already on assignment overseas? Or, or did my lieutenant send for help? Did my squadron all make it back to camp?”
Taeyong winces, realizing the half-truths in his letters are coming back to bite him. As far as Jeno believes, Taeyong isn’t a con man who brokers stolen information to the highest bidders, but a principled agent of a government division specialized in covert operations. Taeyong wrote something to that effect years ago when Jeno was still in middle school to explain his secrecy, not expecting it to inspire Jeno to enlist in the army as soon as he could. If Taeyong could take back his lies, maybe Jeno wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.
“Don’t worry about all of that. I’m gonna get you out of here, no matter what.”
“But—”
“Ah, how touching. What bold promises you make, Kolya!”
The speaker under the ceiling camera blares into the room, a distorted yet familiar voice in Taeyong’s ear speaking rough Korean with an obvious accent. “Androsov,” Taeyong growls under his breath. Vladlen Androsov was a job from five years ago, once the owner of one of the wealthiest brothels in the northern country before he became enamored with one of Taeyong’s façades and his business collapsed on itself. Taeyong worked as a performer in the brothel for over a year to gain Androsov’s trust and feed valuable information to a client, Androsov’s competitor, and now that unbearable façade is back to haunt him years later.
Androsov laughs merrily. “I had hoped you would remember me, and all the beautiful, passionate nights we enjoyed together.”
Taeyong panics with Jeno in earshot and tries to distract Androsov. “Still love the sound of your own voice, huh? Never could stand an old windbag. You got something to say, you can say it to my face,” he goads.
“So touchy. Are you embarrassed in front of company, hm? Does our precious baby brother not know the kind of man you are, Kolya? Does he not know how many others have tasted—?”
“Shut the fuck up!” It’s Jeno who roars in Taeyong’s defense, leaping to his feet with a fierce scowl and clenched fists. Taeyong didn’t think he was capable of such anger. “Whatever garbage you’re talking about, you’ve got the wrong guy! You’re… you’re crazy!”
The conviction from Jeno warms and breaks Taeyong’s heart all at once. An honorable and kind-hearted man like Jeno shouldn’t have lying scum for an older brother. Taeyong stands next to him and pats his shoulder. “Don’t get too worked up. He’s just trying to get to me.”
“Oh, this is very good!” Androsov’s laughter becomes maniacal, bouncing off the walls and ringing in Taeyong’s ears. “You are untrue to everyone, even your own! Not one part of you is genuine. To have been ruined by such a counterfeit, how foolish I was. Come now, will you not tell our brother why he is here, even now?”
It pains Taeyong to admit it, but Androsov is right. There shouldn’t be any secrets when their lives are at stake, but when Taeyong sees his brother’s gaze, so trusting and innocent, Taeyong can’t stomach being looked on with scorn. His mouth refuses to move and his shoes feel like they’re lined with lead. He’s a man who becomes helpless when his mask is removed, a man who ignores the stains of blood on his hands, however indirect.
Taeyong is a man who understands true cowardice.
At Taeyong’s prolonged silence, Androsov continues. “You will not say? Ah, is it that you need encouragement? Very well. You see the vent above, yes? I will give, say… ten count. In ten count, a very nasty gas will fill your little cage, and you and your brother will die.”
On cue, there’s a mechanical sound from inside the vent that draws Taeyong’s and Jeno’s eyes up. Taeyong knows Androsov, and he knows the man never bluffs. “Don’t do this, Androsov,” Taeyong tries to reason, panicking when he realizes he won’t be able to stall as long as he planned. “You wanna kill me? Fine, but leave—”
“Ten. And make it entertaining for me, hm? Perform on your knees, like Kolya does best. Nine.”
Jeno is throwing his body at the door in vain, no chance of breaking it open and no handle or opening for him to grasp. The exertion causes his unhealthy flush to worsen. “Hyung, w-what do we do?” Jeno stammers, fear lacing his hushed voice. “This guy’s a lunatic. We can’t get through to him!”
“Eight.”
There’s only one option for Taeyong, and he hangs his head as the severity sinks in. He can’t hide anymore if he wants to save his brother—he has to be brave as Lee Taeyong, not a façade.
“Seven.”
Jeno is so preoccupied with the door, he doesn’t notice Taeyong has fallen to his knees until Androsov’s counting stops. “What happened? Are you okay?” Jeno reaches down to help Taeyong up, but Taeyong gingerly pushes his hand away. “Hyung?”
“Jeno, I… I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so… so sorry.” Speaking takes a toll on Taeyong like never before and he can’t lift his eyes higher than Jeno’s knees. His eyes burn but he doesn’t have the right to shed tears. “I knew what I was doing was dangerous. I just didn’t want you and mom involved, and now I put you in my mess, and—it’s all my fault.”
“What? No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is!” Taeyong finally raises his head to see Jeno’s perplexed expression. “I’m not a… government spy, or a soldier, or whatever dumb bullshit I fed you. I’m a merc. I make money off lying, and stealing, and tricking people, no matter who it is or what I gotta do to finish the job.” The next part comes quieter. “And… Androsov, he was—I… I worked for him as a job once. Worked at his whorehouse.”
Jeno is at a loss for words, mouth agape and eyes searching Taeyong’s for the truth. He glances up at the camera before whispering, “Are… are you saying all of this because of him? Don’t do this.”
“Oh? Seems he is not believing. Hmm… then, perhaps a demonstration.”
“Fuck you!” Taeyong shouts at the camera, enraged by even the idea of treating his own brother like a brothel patron. “I did what you wanted, didn’t I? Let him go, you fucking freak!”
Taeyong’s outburst only amuses Androsov. “You did not. I want to be entertained. I want him to believe in Kolya, but he does not. So, make him believe. Show our brother the talents that made you fabled in my palace.”
The situation is worse than Taeyong could’ve imagined. The color drains from his face and his stomach lurches with disgust. “You… you’re a psycho. ”
“Six. Oh, and do not worry. Our brother is… prepared for the performance. A little something, think nothing of it. I suggest you not dally too long in aiding him. Five.”
Taeyong turns back to Jeno, who still seems doubtful of Taeyong’s confession. “Did he do something to you?”
Jeno’s wide eyes cut to the table, where there’s a pitcher of water, an empty saucer, and a bottle of clear fluid. “I-I don’t know. They forced me to take some kind of medicine, a pill. I’m fine, really! I mean, I think I am? I’m just really… hot. Hot all over.”
It’s no wonder Androsov kept Jeno in good condition. From the beginning, he planned on using Jeno as an instrument to humiliate Taeyong down to the depths of soul.
“Four.”
Time is running short and Taeyong has an unthinkable decision to make. He takes Jeno’s hands in his trembling grasp, pleads with a quiver in his lip. “Listen to me, Jeno. I don’t deserve your trust, not after all this shit, but I-I need you to trust me and… and close your eyes. Close your eyes and picture you’re somewhere else with somebody else—a sweetheart or a model or, or whatever you need, all right? You and me… we gotta stay alive, we gotta do whatever it takes, okay? No matter what, we have to survive. So, please… close your eyes.” Taeyong keeps repeating his own words in his head to even fathom what he’s about to do.
Jeno’s eyes widen with disbelief and he slowly shakes his head, forbidden from taking a step back by Taeyong’s grasp. “What’re you saying? What’re you saying? No, you can’t mean—t-there has to be something else! This isn’t right.”
“Three.”
“Now, Jeno!”
The fearful desperation from Taeyong finally convinces Jeno. Revulsion twists Jeno’s face but he clenches his eyes shut as instructed. If not for needing to investigate the strange drug’s effect on Jeno’s body, Taeyong would do the same. He moves quickly before Androsov gets impatient, unbuckling Jeno’s uniform trousers and tugging them down to his knees. Without the loose material of his trousers, Jeno can’t hide that he’s already partially boned up and has been for hours. His thick bulge strains inside his tight red boxer-briefs, and the seams are close to tearing as if Jeno has grown in size recently.
“It’s not me! It really isn’t…” Jeno defends himself needlessly, his hands flying to cover his shame. “I-I can’t make it stop. I don’t know what to do!”
“I know, don’t worry. You’ll be all right,” Taeyong comforts Jeno while brushing his hands aside. He hooks his fingers into Jeno’s underwear and tugs them down as well, letting Jeno’s bare cock flop heavily out into the open. Intense heat roils off his sweat-damp skin even from a distance, creating unnatural wisps of steam visible to the eye. He’s far larger than Taeyong expected, measuring at least nine inches not even fully aroused, girthy all the way down to the base shrouded by an untamed bush of black pubes, and his balls hang low and full to match. His length is colored several shades darker than the rest of his skin and energetic veins pulse underneath, while his wide purpling head leaks a ceaseless stream of clear precum.
Even with a number of sexual encounters under his belt, Taeyong is slightly intimidated by Jeno’s forcibly enhanced size. “I’ll take care of you,” Taeyong swears as he wraps his hand around Jeno’s length, his fingers unable to form a circle. That slight touch is enough for Jeno to sob and tilt his head back, incredibly sensitive. A few strokes of Taeyong’s hand across molten hot skin stirs Jeno to full hardness, a violent throbbing that begs for relief.
It's easier for Taeyong to play Androsov’s game now that he sees Jeno’s suffering. Taeyong’s expertise at pleasing men resurfaces as he empties his mind, the same process as when he’s on a job. He leans in to slide his tongue over Jeno’s—over his little brother’s—leaking tip, lapping at the salty precum tap before it stains his chin. He suckles and teases his tongue against the sensitive skin under the helmet, kisses down the side and licks a broad wet stripe up the underside, envelops the cockhead between his soft lips and corkscrews left and right. He drools generously over the topside and lets it drip down Jeno’s length before spreading it with both hands, adding more drool to make Jeno slick all over.
“Hoh, look at you. Gluttonous as ever!” Taeyong recognizes the depraved exhilaration in Androsov’s voice. The monster is getting off on watching Taeyong and his brother. “You have been practicing, Kolya. How many men must have fallen for your charm. Tell me, do you love it? The taste of your brother?”
Taeyong stifles his instinct to flip Androsov off, deciding to switch tactics now that Androsov’s motivation is as clear as day. They need to stall for as long as possible, and that means keeping Androsov entertained by humiliating himself. Taeyong frees his mouth to utter a simple answer that, disturbingly, isn’t wholly an act. “… yeah.” The taste on his tongue is salty and musky, raw but more pleasant than any other man Taeyong has had the displeasure of servicing. The answer causes Jeno’s watery eyes to snap open and stare down at Taeyong in shock, but Taeyong can’t explain himself with Androsov listening so keenly.
“Tell him. Tell your brother how much you love it.”
Taeyong can only hope his eyes convey what’s inside his head when looks up to Jeno. “I—your dick tastes… so good. I love it. Love having you in my mouth,” he says, stilted and empty but enough to satisfy Androsov.
Taeyong quickly resumes pleasuring Jeno to avoid seeing his reaction, curling his tongue into the damp crook of Jeno’s inner thigh before his mouth trails down to Jeno’s ample balls. With one hand stroking Jeno’s length and the other on Jeno’s toned hip for balance, Taeyong meticulously licks up every rivulet of sweat dripping down Jeno’s sac one by one, then takes a nut into his mouth and rolls his tongue around it. The hitch of Jeno’s breath and flexing of his firm thighs tells Taeyong he’s soothing the right area, so he gives the other nut the same wet attention.
Since Taeyong’s mouth is full of his brother’s swollen balls, Androsov antagonizes Jeno instead. “You had no inkling, did you? Your ‘hyung’ is such a well-trained whore.”
Taeyong thought he’d have to signal Jeno to play along, then he hears Jeno’s soft and disillusioned answer. “No, I… I had no idea.” It cuts Taeyong down to the bone to hear, but how can he disagree when he’s on his knees providing such damning evidence?
“And this, this is just the surface! Kolya, my sweet, show our brother how we like to play. You remember, yes?”
Memories of days spent as Androsov’s plaything flash in Taeyong’s mind against his will. He pulls his mouth away from Jeno and tilts his head back. “Spit on me.” There’s no use in sugarcoating the past when Androsov plans on exposing everything.
“No!” Jeno balks without a second thought, frustrated and confused as if he’s seeing an entirely new Taeyong. “I’m not going to treat you like some kind of… animal, hyung. Don’t make me!”
“You don’t have a fucking choice. Get it through your skull!” Taeyong doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but their timer is running out. “Save the pity. I’ve been through a lot worse.”
Jeno shakes his head slowly, unable to deny reality any longer. “This pervert really isn’t lying. You’re really everything he said, aren’t you? A fake? A sleaze?”
“Such a lacking performance. Two.”
“You finally get it, huh?” Taeyong scoffs, committing to riling Jeno up. “I’m not the good guy you thought I was, never will be. I’m a lowlife, and all the people I’ve cheated, all the men I’ve fucked who slapped me, spit on me, kicked me to the ground—I’d do it allll over again and love every single minute of it. You don’t know a damn thing about me, so stop living in a memory and do what I’m telling you!”
Silence follows Taeyong’s tirade and he fears that it wasn’t enough, that Jeno won’t allow himself to disregard their brotherhood. It’s a sickening relief when he feels a hot glob of liquid splatter against his cheek and drips thickly down to his jaw. “Is that what you wanted, hyung?” Jeno asks between grit teeth, upset either with Taeyong or with himself—maybe both. His eyes show a fury so unlike the mild-mannered brother Taeyong knows, clouded over by the drug polluting his blood.
“More. Keep going.”
Of all the things Taeyong wanted to teach his little brother, teaching him how to demean someone wasn’t a consideration. Taeyong sticks out his tongue until Jeno catches on and shoots another frothy wad of spit right into Taeyong’s mouth for him to swallow. He directs Jeno’s hand to the back of his head to fist his black hair with one hand, and mimes slapping his own cheek with the other. After a tense second of indecision, Jeno raises his hand high and cracks Taeyong’s cheek soundly with his palm.
“Is it enough for you?” Another harsh slap swings Taeyong’s face to the side. “Now?” A pink bruise in the shape of Jeno’s hand begins to glow on Taeyong’s cheek after another slap. “Fucking say something!” Jeno screams at him while smearing his spit all over Taeyong’s nose and forehead with his palm, wringing Taeyong’s head around by the hair to get a response.
Other than an instinctive stirring in his pants from being handled so roughly, Taeyong won’t acknowledge Jeno’s provoking as long as Androsov stays inactive. “Not enough,” he says and opens his mouth wide again.
Jeno must have expected to knock sense into Taeyong, but now there’s resolution in his blank expression. He’s given up the fight. “All right. Fine.” He backhands Taeyong across the face with enough strength to knock Taeyong off balance and send him sprawling on the floor. Taeyong is still recovering from the stinging blow when he feels something tossed into his lap and realizes the bottle on the table was lube. “You don’t care how you get it, right, hyung? Since you’re just a spineless whore.”
Now it’s Taeyong’s turn to hesitate, watching the detached way Jeno rolls off his sopping wet shirt and kicks off his boots. The military has done his body well, from his strong shoulders and strapping arms to his solid chest and slender waist. Taeyong maintains muscle in his shapely pecs and arms as well, but Jeno’s body is a rigid work of art despite the bruises littering it. Fully nude, Jeno sits at the foot of the cot against the wall and nods toward the free space beside him. “Are you going to keep staring like a dumb fuck? Get up here.”
Taeyong can only oblige, seeing as it’s exactly the treatment he asked for. All of his clothing except for his socks are left in a pile on the floor and he climbs onto the cot, rolls onto his back and raises his spread legs in a practiced motion. His hard dick lies on his stomach, less than half the size of his younger brother’s, and his bare hole is exposed between his unblemished ass cheeks. With a liberal coating of lube on his fingers, Taeyong reaches between his thighs to rub an experimental circle around his pliant rim before plunging the middle finger inside down to the knuckle. He prepares himself methodically to forbid himself from feeling too much pleasure, twisting and swirling his finger without swiping his sweet spot, adding a second and third finger pumping steadily in and out of his softened hole as soon as he’s able.
Jeno watches Taeyong’s deft fingers work with a delirious sort of fascination. His veiny hand spreads lube over his rock-hard cock sluggishly, sweat is pouring down his temple and his exhales are becoming ragged. He’s overheating faster than Taeyong expected.
“C’mon.” Taeyong pulls his slick fingers free and beckons Jeno with them. Jeno is between Taeyong’s thighs in an instant, still regarding Taeyong with disdain but his body is drawn to a source of relief like a butterfly to nectar. One of Jeno’s hands pushes Taeyong’s knee up to his chest while the other guides Jeno’s throbbing cock to Taeyong’s inviting hole. His blunt cockhead struggles against Taeyong’s rim, each failed attempt to enter Taeyong smearing precum up Taeyong’s smooth crack. Jeno feels absolutely massive and Taeyong didn’t stretch as much as he should have—Jeno takes priority over his own well-being.
“Mmphg!” Pain radiates below Taeyong’s spine as Jeno starts to breach him and Taeyong muffles his groans behind his hand, holds back his tears behind clenched eyes. Jeno is deaf to Taeyong’s pain in his single-minded goal to bury his dick as deep inside his brother as possible, grunting when his cockhead finally pops past Taeyong’s defeated pucker, no pausing to recover or appreciate the comfort of Taeyong’s tightness. Inch after girthy inch slides into Taeyong at an arduous pace, the lube gushing out of Taeyong’s pucker keeping him slippery for Jeno’s relentless drive. Just when Taeyong thinks he’s at his limit and Jeno will split him in half, Jeno’s hips press flush against Taeyong’s ass and the head of his dick bulges out of Taeyong’s flat belly, fully sheathed.
Taeyong wants to catch his breath, but Jeno is already encircling Taeyong’s waist in his hands and pulling out. “H-Hold on,” Taeyong huffs, grabbing Jeno’s hands to stop him. “Too much… too much. Need a sec to—agh!”
Quick as lightning, Jeno rotates his hands to snatch Taeyong’s wrists in a crushing grip. “No. You don’t get to go soft on me, hyung. You said you can handle this,” Jeno reminds him vindictively. His hips retreat until he’s halfway inside, Taeyong’s wet pucker pulling around Jeno’s girth possessively, then he pulls Taeyong into a sharp thrust by the wrists, slamming deep enough to fracture Taeyong’s vision. “You’re a nasty, easy, selfish, two-faced little cocksleeve, right?” Jeno punctuates every cruel word with a snap of his hips, drawing broken sobs from out of Taeyong’s throat and jolting Taeyong’s body up the cot’s surface, his luscious pecs squeezed between his biceps and bouncing lewdly. “This is nothing for something like you.”
Taeyong couldn’t protest even if he had the right to when Jeno starts fucking him properly, building a destructive rhythm with his cock barreling into Taeyong faster than he can handle, heavy nuts clapping Taeyong’s ass cheeks loudly. Taeyong's toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head, his back arching off the cot from how Jeno’s girth strokes his silken walls so thoroughly and digs deeper than he thought possible. Signals of pain and pleasure send his senses into overdrive and make him forget where he is.
Jeno releases Taeyong’s wrists only to force Taeyong’s knees behind his ears and crouch over his folded-up form. Jeno’s lower body rises high until Taeyong’s pucker is suckling his cockhead, then he plunges balls-deep into Taeyong in one smooth, mind-breaking move. He puts his weight behind his downward thrusts and the cot creaks in protest. Taeyong’s lungs are compressed, his back strained and his teeth grit, unable to even whine in such an uncomfortable position. The sweat that drops from Jeno’s forehead and splashes on Taeyong’s skin is a tangible reminder for Taeyong to endure everything for his little brother’s sake.
“Hah… fuck…!” Jeno grunts as he buries himself as far into Taeyong as he can, his entire body seizing up from an earthshattering finish. Burning hot, viscous cum flows copiously into Taeyong’s belly and warms him from the inside out. Tension seems to melt from Jeno’s shoulders with every generous load his overladen balls spurt into Taeyong and his dizzy swaying stabilizes. The pure hatred in his gaze hasn’t dissipated, but his physical ailment is certainly improving.
His erection hasn’t diminished in the slightest when he pulls it out of Taeyong’s gaping hole, admiring how his boiling cum gushes out and trickles up Taeyong’s back. “You’re really good for this, hyung. You don’t break easily,” Jeno compliments caustically and brushes his sweaty red hair away from his forehead. He unfolds Taeyong so he has room to straddle Taeyong’s chest. Taeyong grimaces when Jeno’s slimy cock smacks onto his face insistently and leaves a sticky cum residue behind. “Lick it off.”
On command, Taeyong offers his tongue so Jeno can grind the length of his dick over Taeyong’s mouth, letting Taeyong slurp the dripping underside clean of cum and the unmistakable taste of his own hole. Jeno’s cum is incredibly bitter and salty, as foul as Taeyong expects from a young man Jeno’s age, but Taeyong can’t pretend to not enjoy gulping down every potent drop. Jeno shuffles forward with one foot planted above Taeyong’s head and drapes his round balls over Taeyong’s cum-smeared lips, dips them into Taeyong’s mouth and drags them all over Taeyong’s face, marking Taeyong with the rich smell of his balls.
“Obedient, like a dog.” Jeno puts Taeyong’s tongue to further use by sitting on Taeyong’s mouth, prompting Taeyong to slide his tongue up Jeno’s warm crack to his taint and down again, kiss and suck on Jeno’s virgin rim, swirl his tongue coaxing circles before wriggling it inside Jeno’s heat. Jeno gasps and jerks himself off slowly, his nuts bouncing on Taeyong’s forehead and his taint mashed against Taeyong’s nose as he rides Taeyong’s agile tongue. Taeyong drinks in his brother’s masculine scent, buries his tongue in the addictive sweaty and musky taste of Jeno’s hole, and his dick has never been so painfully hard. Rather than soothe himself, he prolongs his high by reaching up to urge Jeno’s ass full onto his face, suffocating himself between Jeno’s toned ass cheeks and lapping hungrily at Jeno’s delicious walls. The most Taeyong gives himself is his fingers lazily caressing his rosy pucker.
Over the sounds of his own indecent panting and slurping, Taeyong hears, “Can’t believe… I actually fucking respected you.” However, a dense haze of lust has already muffled Taeyong’s screaming conscience.
After he’s left Jeno’s hole drenched in slobber, Jeno backs off to roll Taeyong onto his stomach. Jeno sits on the backs of Taeyong’s thighs while squeezing and spreading Taeyong’s ass cheeks, grinding the shaft of his monstrous cock between them promisingly before stuffing his cock all the way into Taeyong’s sloppy hole. His entire body blankets Taeyong’s in a meeting of slick heated flesh, a strong arm loops around Taeyong’s neck in a headlock and another hand tangles in Taeyong’s hair. The motion of Jeno’s hips is short and fast, his cock spearing into Taeyong in a way that bullies Taeyong’s sweet spot and forces Taeyong’s hard-on to rub torturously against the rough material of the cot.
Jeno’s arm flexes tight around Taeyong’s neck, veiny and rippling with muscle that squeezes Taeyong’s cheeks. “Shouldn’t even call you hyung anymore, should I?” Jeno wrenches Taeyong’s head back so he can hiss hotly into Taeyong’s ear, well aware that Taeyong can’t reply with his windpipe being crushed. “Your customers… what’d they call you? Were you just their expensive whore? Or the little fag they kept secret? Maybe you were a hungry pig, eating slop off the ground?”
Taeyong has answered to all those and more, but all he can do is wheeze and dig his nails into Jeno’s forearm while his face burns cherry red and his eyes cross. Jeno allows him just enough air to keep him teetering on the edge of consciousness while fucking out what little common sense he has left. It’s an effective combination to keep Taeyong from forming a single worthwhile thought.
“I think… you’re worth less than all that,” Jeno tells him in a mockingly thoughtful tone. “Like a public urinal, pretty porcelain that’s all filthy and used by any man who wants you. Honestly, you’d let me piss in your mouth too, wouldn’t you?” Even with his head trapped, Taeyong manages the slightest of nods, and Jeno makes an aghast noise. “Fucking disgusting.”
Sweet air rushes into Taeyong’s chest when Jeno releases him, but his freedom is brief. Taeyong is propped up on his knees with his stuffed ass high in the air, and Jeno swings a leg over Taeyong’s back to plant his bare foot square on Taeyong’s face. Just enough pressure keeps his big brother’s head trapped without breaking his jaw, a handsome new foothold Jeno uses to ram his horsecock into Taeyong’s bruised ass with renewed vigor. Hateful bile spews from his mouth, disjointed as if Jeno isn’t aware his thoughts have taken form. “Shameless… worthless… fucking trash… stupid bimbo… want you to… suffer…!” Accepting of his punishment, Taeyong reaches back to spread his ass cheeks in hopes of Jeno ramming harder into him, and Jeno’s toes curl in Taeyong’s hairline in approval.
“W-Whatever… ahn… you want.” Taeyong slurs his words drunkenly, nuzzling his face into the bottom of Jeno’s foot. His full cock dangles uselessly between his thighs, spitting up precum on his inner thighs. Taeyong has never relished in being destroyed like this, his sense of self-worth replaced by an all-encompassing need to be the perfect tool to service his little brother. The threat of being gassed and Jeno’s condition are peripheral concerns.
“Anything I want?” Jeno pauses abruptly and he twists his foot into Taeyong’s face, chuckling spitefully at Taeyong’s wince. “Then you’re just my private urinal, hyung. No other man can piss in you from now on but me. Understood?”
“U… understood.”
Making an honest man of Taeyong for once, Jeno climbs off the cot and takes Taeyong with him, dragging him by the head to kneel on the floor. Light-headed, Taeyong can barely keep himself up right but he’s aware enough to hold his mouth open when Jeno aims his oversized cock at him. Jeno groans as his bladder empties and a golden stream of piss splashes onto the back of Taeyong’s throat and tongue, steaming hot liquid that pools elegantly in his mouth. The taste is horribly acrid and salty, coats his teeth and inner cheeks in an intense flavor he’ll never forget, scalds his throat when he gulps down large mouthfuls. Jeno’s stream flows too powerfully for Taeyong to swallow quickly, making him choke and spill down his chin.
Jeno doesn’t seem to care if Taeyong drowns, but he’s content to soak Taeyong elsewhere while he recovers, aiming his stream at Taeyong’s cheeks and eyes so Taeyong’s long lashes glisten with golden droplets, soaking Taeyong’s hair and neck and shoulders, pissing on his plump pecs while Taeyong massages it into his skin. When the stream weakens to a stop, Taeyong licks the final sour bead from Jeno’s slit, then dips his head to hurriedly slurp the spilt puddle of piss on the floor while it’s fresh. Jeno scoffs incredulously as he watches his big brother clean the floor with his mouth without being told, licking around Jeno’s feet for stray drops. Jeno lifts his foot to make it easier for Taeyong to do a painstaking job and Taeyong readily licks flat up the sole of Jeno’s foot from heel to toe, spit-shining the rough expanse of skin before taking Jeno’s toes between his lips. His tongue flosses between each digit and he tightens his lips around Jeno’s big toe, bobbing his head to suck it clean.
Jeno tugs his foot free so he can bend down and yank Taeyong upright by the chin. “Dirty piss pot for a mouth. Not even safe to shove my dick in.”
“Please… please,” Taeyong begs and opens his mouth again, panting like a dog in his desire to be of use to his little brother.
Jeno hums thoughtfully and pulls Taeyong’s face just underneath his, close enough for their breaths to mingle. His lips purse and a thick foamy tendril of spit leaves his mouth, stretching slowly until it graces Taeyong’s tongue and rolls to the back of his throat. Jeno drools generously into Taeyong’s mouth until he sees a warm pool of spit, then cuts off the tendril with a quick lick of his lips. “Don’t swallow,” he warns as he straightens and takes both sides of Taeyong’s head in his hands, holding it steady and stepping forward to cram his fat dick into Taeyong’s mouth.
Jeno’s own spit is extra lube for his girthy cock to force its way into Taeyong’s tight throat and slide down steadily. Taeyong’s lips stretch thin, his tongue is trapped against his bottom lip, and his neck bulges out obscenely in the shape of Jeno’s girth. His head is angled back against the cot to give Jeno a straight path down his throat, only impeded by Taeyong’s sporadic gagging constricting the tight passage. Taeyong grabs two palmfuls of Jeno’s firm ass cheeks to impel Jeno’s hips forward, neither of them satisfied until Taeyong is kissing the base of Jeno’s cock. Jeno’s balls are mashed on Taeyong’s chin and Taeyong’s nose is buried in Jeno’s coarse pubes, letting him revel in the heavenly scent of Jeno’s dense musk.
“Have to breed your dirty mouth, hyung,” Jeno swears, idly grinding his crotch into Taeyong’s face to the sound of Taeyong’s vulgar retching. “Have to make you earn your meal.” Throat juice gushes out of the corners of Taeyong’s lips when Jeno pulls halfway out, and lewd gurgles erupt from his mouth when Jeno rams back inside. Jeno leans forward and balances himself with one hand and knee raised on the cot, one hand around the back of Taeyong’s head, and pumps into Taeyong’s mouth roughly, his wild thrusts knocking Taeyong’s head back against the cot. The only sounds in the room are Jeno’s groans, the sticky slap of his drool-glazed balls against Taeyong’s chin, and the sloppy “GLLCK! GLLRK! GLUCK!” squelches of Taeyong’s slippery throat being reamed. Drool bubbles out around Jeno’s cock and slimes down Taeyong’s chin and neck, and tears streak down Taeyong’s ruddy cheeks from his unstifled gagging.
“F… fuck… it feels too wet…” Jeno’s breath stutters and his rhythm becomes erratic, brutally humping Taeyong’s face in search of his mounting release. “You have to… swallow everything. Eat all of my cum, hyung!” he orders—not that Taeyong has a choice with Jeno’s unyielding grip on his skull. Jeno’s cock pulses powerfully in Taeyong’s throat with each gooey spurt of jizz, lodged so deep that Jeno is unloading right into Taeyong’s stomach. A slurry of piss and jizz sloshes inside Taeyong’s belly, causing his flat abdomen to swell from being overstuffed. Taeyong can endure the strain in his jaw and his blocked airway for as long as Jeno needs, cradling fondling Jeno’s succulent balls in his palm to work out every drop of his load.
There’s clarity in Jeno’s eyes after a second mindblowing orgasm. The pure hatred has dampened into a more bearable contempt and there’s no cruelty in his actions when he pries his slimy cock free from Taeyong’s panting mouth, leaving his lips puffy and decorated with stray black pubes. “I… shouldn’t, but I still want—need more,” he admits, forcing the words out in raspy grunts. His hand reaches to grab Taeyong’s hair on instinct, but he stops short and shakes his head, trying to break free of the drug’s influence. “Keep your legs spread for me, hyung. Need you around my cock… need you so badly.”
Taeyong would’ve done so without being asked. He’s continues being a pliant tool in his little brother’s hands—throwing his ass back into Jeno’s thrusts while Jeno breeds him on his hands and knees, straining his thigh muscles riding Jeno’s cock while Jeno spanks his ass, wrapping his limbs around Jeno’s torso as Jeno pounds him into the wall. The drug’s hold on Jeno wanes with every orgasm, reverting him into the docile puppy Taeyong knows. After receiving so much vitriol, Taeyong is shocked when Jeno kisses him, lips sliding against Taeyong’s plump ones and tongue twining around Taeyong’s. He licks tenderly into Taeyong’s filthy mouth, offsetting the animalistic pummeling of his huge cock into Taeyong’s guts, and he’s encouraged when Taeyong returns the wet caress of his lips with spit dribbling down their chins. An unexpected gentle touch is what Taeyong’s cock needed to finally erupt after being neglected for so long, ropes of jizz exploding between them and painting their sweaty torsos white.
Exhaustion hits Jeno like a truck and he relents to letting Taeyong take care of him without fuss. “Thanks, hyung,” Jeno murmurs tiredly into his folded arms, bent over the cot with Taeyong crouched behind him. Taeyong is face-deep in his brother’s ass with both his hands gripping Jeno’s horsecock, palm rubbing perfect circles over Jeno’s cockhead, lubed fist jerking Jeno’s thick shaft from base to tip, warm breath delighting Jeno’s sensitive hole as Taeyong spits into it and curls his tongue inside its deliciously hot depths. Jeno is a faucet in Taeyong’s professional hands, a puddle of jizz on the floor beneath his cock that grows with each suckling kiss of his rim. The puddle matches the one between Taeyong’s feet from the jizz still squelching noisily out of his swollen, fucked out hole.
Eventually, Jeno’s energy is depleted and he passes out, sprawled out on the cot and snoring softly. His dick is still a ridiculous size but it’s gone limp for the first time in hours, and his skin has thankfully lost its feverish color. While Jeno sleeps, Taeyong crawls over him and thoroughly tongue-bathes his grimy skin. He licks away the sheen of sweat glistening on Jeno’s slender neck and hard chest, buries his face into the smooth curves of Jeno’s armpits and drags his tongue all over the damp skin, laps up his own drying orgasm from Jeno’s sculpted abs. He tells himself that his actions are only so Jeno can rest peacefully without being coated in filth, but Taeyong knows himself, knows that he’s always been a depraved person and that he’s selfishly unwilling to let go of his masochistic euphoria. He’ll come to his senses and despise himself again after tonight, so he should savor what he’ll never experience again—being his darling little brother’s personal “urinal.”
“That you outlasted my little potion… a master of your craft,” Androsov praises and applauds suddenly. Having forgotten the man’s presence long ago, Taeyong has no problem ignoring Androsov to finish enjoying his task, leaving hickies across Jeno’s pretty waist and down his inner thighs. “How does it feel, Kolya? Sinking to such unfathomable depths, just as you—”
Taeyong's mouth has just reached Jeno’s ankle when he hears shouting and gunfire erupt on the floor above him, distracting Androsov from his barbaric scheme. “Looks like the cavalry arrived,” Taeyong tells his sleeping brother, thankful that his backup plan is panning out after all. He picks up what unsoiled clothes he can find and dresses Jeno before they’re seen. “Let’s get outta here.”
Fortunately, the same vengeful client who orchestrated Androsov’s downfall five years ago is glad to put Androsov out of his misery for good. The rescue does put Taeyong in debt with the client, but he’ll gratefully finish one last job in exchange for Jeno’s safety and a cozy hotel bed after the night he’s had.
He sleeps well into the afternoon, only woken up by the sound of the bathroom door knob. He opens his eyes to find Jeno, freshly showered and toweling his hair dry. Jeno goes still when he notices Taeyong is awake, then drops the towel on the floor in his rush to Taeyong’s bedside.
“Hyung! Oh my God, you had me worried. You were asleep forever!” Jeno grins, bright and relieved, and squeezes Taeyong’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”
It takes Taeyong a moment to overcome his surprise, staring at Jeno with raised eyebrows. Such a cheerful reception after the things they said and did to each other throws him off balance. He’s hesitant to answer, thinking he’s misreading Jeno’s cheerfulness. “Eh, nothing that won’t heal. How ‘bout you?”
“Me? I’m great! Just a couple of bruises.” He taps the bandaging on his face playfully. “My uh, my memory’s a little fuzzy though? I just remember you waking me up, then I got really, really mad, and then,” he mimics an explosion with a hand beside his temple. “What happened? How’d you get us away from that maniac? Oh, or is that government classified stuff?”
Forgetting such a traumatic affair is a blessing for Jeno and a test from a higher power for Taeyong. He should be dissuaded from withholding the truth after falling into a pitfall of his own making, but sparing Jeno the abhorrence of his own actions, keeping that innocent and optimistic light in his eyes, is the best thing Taeyong can do for Jeno. After repaying the favor to his Russian client, Taeyong will leave the mercenary lifestyle and find an honest career his brother can boast about, and then he’ll dispel the pristine portrait of himself that he’s painted for his family, but he’ll bury the uncleanliness of what happened between him and Jeno forever. If only one of them has to be plagued with those sinful memories, then Taeyong will gladly bear that burden.
“Nothing I can tell you the specifics about. You just focus on getting better, all right?” Taeyong smiles and pants Jeno’s damp head of red hair. “You’re safe now.”
Jeno pouts, dissatisfied but understanding, and Taeyong doesn’t question the honesty in it—
—maybe it’s because Taeyong believes in his brother unconditionally that he can’t see how stiff the corners of Jeno’s mouth are from forcing his blithe expressions, how his hand trembles holding onto Taeyong’s shoulder, how the darkness behind Jeno’s exuberant eyes threatens to snuff out the light.
Taeyong doesn’t know that Jeno remembers every sordid detail of what happened between them, every carnal stroke of heated flesh and every unabashed word of forbidden passion playing over and over in his mind like a pornographic film. The drug may have amplified Jeno’s emotions to a volatile level, but the disappoint he felt from learning the man he idolized is the deceitful type of person he despises most, and the anger he felt at Taeyong for forsaking his pride and lowering himself to Jeno with the ease and enthusiasm of a seasoned courtesan, and the unwelcomed fire that coursed in his veins when he tirelessly dismantled and abused his brother with his own sadistic hands—all of it was real and the muddled state of his brain doesn’t pardon him from his own actions.
Taeyong doesn’t know how long Jeno spent under the shower spray sniveling pathetically into his hand while thrusting recklessly into his fist, trying desperately to visualize anything other than Taeyong’s bruised face and tear-swollen eyes when he dirtied the shower walls with cum. Even now, while calmingly stroking Taeyong’s arm as they make plans to leave Russia, Jeno’s gaze keeps dropping to the ring of bruises around Taeyong’s neck he’d so callously caused. The sound of Taeyong gasping for air and the feeling of his fingers clawing at Jeno’s arm are still fresh in his mind, still piquing interest in his sweatpants, and the ever-present love for his brother is undercut by a sinister impulse to put Taeyong on his knees again and finish marking every inch of his body with a tasteful array of pinks and purples and reds.
An unrecognizable man tormented by twisted desires sits at Taeyong’s bedside, but Taeyong only sees the little brother he’s always known.