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This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
Sure, Ace was the one who offered his sleeping place hidden away in the woods to Tae-young, despite the fact that he’s barely able to stand the guy. He can only take so much bitching about all the noise around the campfire that’s keeping the boy awake. And yes, he didn’t say anything when Tae-young laid down right next to him that first night, moaning about creepy shadows in the distance and the cold. True, he didn’t exactly question the boy’s sudden tendency to sleep in less and less clothes, especially not when Tae-young complained about how scratchy everything felt on his skin that’s purely used to expensive, preferably professionally dry-cleaned clothes. What a spoiled brat.
Ace let all of that happen, naturally curious where it would lead to. He certainly hadn’t expected to wake up one night to Tae-young’s ass pressed up against his erection.
Still drunk on sleep, his body reacts before his mind catches up and he rolls his hips lazily, leaning into that delicious friction. He groans quietly before he finally realizes their peculiar situation and freezes instantly. For a long moment, he lays there, hand still slung over Tae-young’s hip - and when did that exactly happen? - and holds his breath. Seconds pass by agonizingly slow, but Tae-young doesn’t rouse. His breathing stays relaxed and deep, doesn’t even hitch.
It’s not exactly the first instance something like this happens, but usually Ace is already somewhat well-rested and can just sneak away to either start with a new day in hell or discretely take care of himself. Usually, he prefers the first option; makes him feel less like a damn creep.
Right now, though, he’s still tired as hell, which leads him to believe sleep has been a fleeting companion and which in turn somewhat narrows down his options in dealing with his predicament. Sure, he could drag himself to the campfire, search for a fellow insomniac to kill some time with, ignoring his erection until it went away. He could also get up and get himself off somewhere in private. Both of these options would demand of him to get up, though, and leaving the warmth of Tae-young’s body curled up to him… Well, that’s just asking a bit too much.
So lying still and praying for his erection to go down it is. Can’t take that long, surely. He regrets the assumption instantly when Tae-young shifts in his sleep and grinds up against Ace’s clothed cock. The brief friction feels so damn good that Ace throbs in his pants, almost violently so.
“Fuck…” He moans softly, fingers tightening on Tae-young’s hip. Torn between holding him still and pulling him closer.
Okay, this won’t work.
Deciding enough is enough, he tries to draw back his hand, only for it to slip under the flimsy material of Tae-young’s shirt in the process. His fingers brush over warm naked skin, and momentarily, the part of his brain responsible for sensible decisions simply signs off.
Agonizingly slow, his fingertips wander over the boy’s waist, make their way over his toned stomach up to his chest. For a grown man, his skin is surprisingly smooth and Ace wonders whether he was one of those that frequented expensive salons to make his whole appearance as flawless as humanly possible.
When his hand brushes against Tae-young’s nipple, reason kicks in with a force that makes him hesitate. This is going too far, right? Before, he could’ve maybe justified his wandering hand by claiming he was still sound asleep. Focussing on one part of the boy’s body, especially one as intimate as this… Who would he fool with that excuse?
And despite that realization, his fingers seem to have a mind on their own. His thumb rubs over the bud, small teasing touches that make it grow hard in no time. He can’t help but imagine leaning over Tae-young to take it into his mouth, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin until tears would leak from the boy’s eyes and he would writhe in pleasure, begging for Ace to touch him some more.
While his imagination runs wild, he pushes his nose against Tae-young’s nape and closes his eyes, breathing in the boy’s sweat, relishing in the short hairs tickling his face. Because his imagination is a sheer impossibility, his index finger and thumb imitate the soft ministrations his mouth craves for, gently clasping and twisting Tae-young’s nipple in his grasp.
Tae-young’s next exhale is shaky, reverberating between a sigh and a moan. Overcome by the way that soft sound shoots straight to his cock, Ace’s mouth falls open to press his tongue against Tae-young’s skin, lapping up a few lost droplets of salty sweat.
“Fuck, baby, what are you doing to me…” He rasps, dizzy from desire.
Tae-young is one of the least tolerable persons he has ever met. A know-it-all with close to no patience and much less empathy for others, with a huge fucking ego on top of all that. And yet he’s the prettiest boy Ace has ever seen. Flawless pale skin Ace wants to sink his teeth into, mark up for everyone to see. Pretty lips, such a light pink, Ace wants to kiss and bite until they turn an angry shade of red. Every time that brat moans about someone ‘making a mistake, throwing the whole trial away’, Ace wants to push him to his knees and teach him a way he can actually turn into a good, helpful teammate.
All of his life, Ace has been drawn to pretty things, just itching to possess them. Like a crow attracted to everything shiny.
And now Tae-young's so close and it’s so damn hard to hold back. He tries his best, but control starts to slip through his fingers as he starts to grind against Tae-young’s ass with more urgency, aching for more contact, so hard he fears he’s gonna die if he doesn’t do something about it soon.
And yet… There’s something holding him back. Is it his morals? Rhyme and reason? The potential consequences? The only certainty about this situation is that he’s going to be absolutely fucked once Tae-young wakes up - and it’s not even a question anymore about if but when. Because at this point, Ace knows he can no longer stop himself. Tae-young is so warm and soft next to him, so absolutely lovely, and Ace hasn’t touched anyone in such a long time, he’d die to get closer. Even just a little.
But he does wonder… How is it even possible that Tae-young hasn’t woken up yet? Wrecking his brain for any sort of logical answer, he distantly remembers the boy’s last trial, how he has gotten a hefty dose of that fat, asthmatic clown’s tonics. Maybe he’s still high off his ass, sleeping off the after effects. So… what stops Ace from going further? Tae-young won’t remember a thing. Probably. Hopefully. God, he can’t worry about that now, not when he barely manages to put just enough distance between them to shove his hand into his pants.
Wrapping his hand around his dripping erection floods his brain with instant relief. Ace circles his thumb over the tip, spreading the almost startling amount of precum along his length for an easier glide and pumps his fist in deliberate, drawn out strokes. His other hand, still busy playing with Tae-young’s chest, now runs back down his body, and while he’s first tempted to lead it to the boy’s crotch, he decides against it in the end. Instead, he lets it creep under the elastic band of his boxershorts, just to get a feel of the round swell of Tae-young’s ass. One cheek fits perfectly into the palm of his hand and he cups the soft flesh, squeezing it harder experimentally.
He lets his hand linger while he speeds up the movement of his fist, already embarrassingly close. Even though the whole situation is risky enough, he’s still hesitant to push himself over the edge so soon. When would an opportunity like this ever present itself again? Fuck, he can’t live with the thought of letting it go to waste, not when he has barely scratched the surface of exploring Tae-young’s body.
He’s truly sick. But that realization doesn’t stop him from very carefully manipulating Tae-young’s long limbs, just enough so he rolls more onto his side and his legs fall open slightly. Afterwards, he spits into his hand and it shakes in anticipation as he slips his fingers between Tae-young’s cheeks and leads them straight to his hole. Gently, he rubs over the sensitive skin of his rim, spreading his saliva, once in a while allowing his touch to grow more insistent, just to tease the muscle and to barely let the tip of his index finger breach its tightness.
“How are you so perfect?” Lewd whispers mouthed into Tae-young’s skin, full of awe and disbelief. That’s all he allows himself, scared he might wake up the boy after all if he was any louder. But he can’t help but wonder; how is that possible? The same boy that’s usually incorrigible and pigheaded is now like wax in Ace’s hands, moaning softly under his breath every once in a while. As docile and pliant as a house pet. If only he could keep him like this.
After a while, Tae-young starts to squirm slightly; as if he wants to push back against Ace’s probing fingers, to impale himself on the digits. Of course he isn’t, but maybe, just maybe, he’s so touch-starved that even in his sleep his body can’t quite stop itself from seeking out the pleasure Ace is coaxing from it? The thought drives Ace not only closer to his peak, but to insanity. If Tae-young is enjoying this despite the discomfort - the burn he must surely experience - then how much would he relish in Ace burying his cock inside him?
His initial assumption feels like it’s somewhat confirmed the longer he plays with the boy’s hole. It opens up beautifully under his touch, muscles so relaxed from all that shit that’s pumped into those tonics that Ace can work one finger into him in no time at all. And despite that, he still feels warm, not too loose, just purely amazing, and Ace needs to muffle his moans against Tae-young’s skin, overwhelmed by the sensation. He adds another and Tae-young’s rim stretches perfectly around the digits, tight like a glove, as Ace starts to scissor and pump them gingerly.
He focuses on the feeling of Tae-young’s walls clinging to him like they are desperate to pull him deeper inside, to swallow everything Ace is willing to give, as he holds his other hand still, wrapped around his cock in a loose fist. Panting hard, he rocks his hips into that tight grip and imagines it’s Tae-young’s greedy hole instead.
The boy whimpers quietly and Ace’s heart drops into his stomach when Tae-young mumbles, “Ahhh… Eun-ji…”
And for a moment, Ace stops all movement - just lies there, fingers two knuckles deep buried inside Tae-young’s heat, hand tightly coiled around the base of his cock to stop himself from coming on the spot. Convinced everything’s over. But Tae-young doesn’t say anything more, just continues his peaceful breathing besides the occasional hitch that reveals the pleasure coursing through his body.
His voice echoes in Ace’s ears. Eun-ji. The girlfriend. A flicker of an emotion much fiercer than any before burns through his veins.
Not wasting another second, he picks up his movements again while he presses his mouth against Tae-young’s neck, dragging his lips, his tongue, across it. That fucking name rings in his ears as he grazes his teeth over that soft skin, closes his lips tightly around it and starts to suck.
Tae-young might dream about his sweet girlfriend all he wants, but that doesn’t change one fact. Right now, in this moment and in this dreadful place, he’s Ace’s.
And that conviction, combined with the boy’s walls fluttering around his fingers and the pleasure ignited by a particularly powerful thrust, lets his eyes roll into the back of his head. His cock drools and pulsates wildly as he comes in long white streaks over his fist. Overcome by arousal, he strokes his length, focused on prolonging his orgasm while he buries his fingers as deep in Tae-young as possible, pretending he’s pumping him full of cum instead of wasting it on his own hand.
Once he’s milked his body for everything it’s got, he lets his hand sink, already bordering on the edge of overstimulation. He keeps his fingers inside Tae-young, though; just to allow himself another moment of enjoying his irresistible tight heat, just for a short while longer.
Slowly, the gravity of his actions starts to sink in. Lying there, blood pumping in his ears, he tries to calm his breathing and rationalize the madness that has seized him temporarily. Now, he can no longer justify staying close to the boy and he lets his fingers slip out of him, untangles their limbs and rises from their makeshift bed on the ground. Only now considering his disheveled state, he wipes his hand on the leaves of a nearby bush, and while he moves he notices the cold wetness that seeped into his briefs, what a mess he’s made of himself.
Mindlessly, he reaches for another pair and some pants scattered around his refuge, and tries his best to change as quietly as possible. When that’s done, he stands there, at a loss what to do now.
Tiredness has given way to exhaustion, but he couldn’t possibly fall back asleep right now. Especially not next to Tae-young. Facing any of the others also feels out of the question. Despite that there is no way in hell they would have any idea about what just transpired, Ace worries he wouldn’t be able to shake off the nonsensical paranoia that they would notice the sense of guilt, the smell of sex, clinging to him.
He has fucked up.
So. Damn. Badly.
Before the anxious energy brewing inside of him can swell into full-blown panic, Tae-young’s voice, heavy with sleep, drags him out of his own head.
“Ace…?” He doesn’t sound mad. Only genuinely confused, almost worried.
“I’m here,” Ace rasps, cringing at the way his voice breaks on its nervous edge.
“Wha-...? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Tae-young asks, slurring his words a little. It sounds cute. Ace heart races. He feels sick for even thinking that.
“Woke up and had to stretch my legs for a while,” he answers, careful to sound smooth, fully unbothered. Like his usual self.
Tae-young hums quietly, close to falling back asleep. There’s a long stretch of silence, and Ace is almost sure that’s what’s happened already, when Tae-young mumbles, “Come back here. I’m cold. Can’t sleep like this.”
Ace hesitates. His eyes roam over Tae-young’s curled up form; turned away from him, mostly concealed in the darkness of the forest, he couldn’t possibly guess what’s going through the boy’s mind. Torn between guilt and the genuine yearning to lay back down next to him, Ace is overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what the right next move is.
Either way, it feels like he’s pushing his luck. In the end, he relents to Tae-young’s demand and settles down again. Despite being careful to keep some distance between them, the boy scoots closer as soon as Ace has laid down. When Tae-young goes as far as reaching around to pull Ace’s arm around his waist, Ace can’t help the reaction of his body; he tenses, goes completely rigid, almost chokes on his own breath.
Before he can question anything about the sudden intimacy - because well yes, he’s by now somewhat used to Tae-young’s close to non-existent respect for personal space, but they were still light years away from cuddling - the boy himself speaks up, grumbling while he buries himself deeper into Ace’s reluctant embrace, “Stop annoying me. I said I’m cold. That’s your fault, so fix it.”
Of course, Tae-young is the only person able to actively piss him off in a situation like this. Somehow, the exasperation does calm Ace’s nerves, though. At least it takes his mind off other much more complicated emotions, and he’s surprised when the exhaustion that’s been slowly gnawing at his bones takes over completely in no time at all. At first, he fights against it, because his ridiculous conscience tells him falling asleep after what he just did can’t possibly be right. No, he should at least wallow in shame and self-hatred some more as a form of repentance.
Regardless, he can’t deny sleep would be a tempting relief, and he slowly succumbs to it, wrapped up in the comfort of Tae-young’s warmth and the soft sound of his breathing.
So far from the campfire, the quiet is unnerving. Despite the fact that Tae-young hasn’t spent much time in this nightmare, at least compared to most of the others sharing this gruesome fate, he has already gotten used to the constant background noises. The crackling of burning wood. Snoring. Whispers. The shuffling of cards.
Since he has started sleeping at Ace’s small refuge, only the gambler’s breathing and the occasional rustle of clothes when Ace tosses and turns in his sleep pierce the eerie silence.
Right at this moment, Tae-young is glad of the quiet, because it makes it much easier to gauge the moment Ace falls back asleep. It does take him a surprising short amount of time. Tae-young has expected some pangs of conscience to keep him awake for a while, but he can’t really complain, even when he knows sleep is far out of his own reach.
Ace’s breath hits his neck, makes the sensitive skin tingle, right where the gambler sucked a lovebite into it. His arm is a comforting weight draped over Tae-young’s side. Somehow, he can still feel the ghost of the gambler’s touch all over him, and he’s determined to ignore the raging erection tugged away in his boxershorts.
His mind is still trying to wrap around the events that just transpired, but the longer he focuses on all the filthy details, the harder his heart beats in his chest.
Yes, he’s been convinced from the start that Ace Visconti is at his core quite a simple man. A gambler at heart, only carried by luck and his cunning charm. Nevertheless, Tae-young did believe his nonchalant nature wasn’t only for show. After this, though… Well, he’s surprised the man broke so soon. A little disregard for personal space, flashing some naked skin, and Ace can’t resist molesting him in his sleep.
Basking in the certainty that he was not only right in his assessment of the other man, but that he is even more repulsive than expected, Tae-young is also desperate to block out everything else. The sweat rolling down his back. The shiver running down his spine when Ace shifts closer in his sleep and he’s reminded of the man’s cock pressing against his rear, the way his fingers felt buried inside him, the moment when the pain started to blur into sparks of pleasure…
That wasn’t part of the plan. He wanted proof that Ace’s whole smug persona is worth nothing, would collapse under the slightest headwind like a house of cards. While that alone would be balm to Tae-young’s ego, the knowledge itself would most likely become useful eventually.
How are you so perfect?
Hearing those words from that arrogant asshole’s lips rushed to his head like a dopamine hit. They’re still echoing in his ears, and he wants to hear them again, wants to hear from Ace how good he feels, how handsome he is in his eyes, how desperate he is to fuck him and that he’s dying inside because he simply can’t, because Tae-young would never allow something as disgusting as that. He wants to hear Ace beg and laugh in his face in return.
But he wonders… Why didn’t Ace dare to do just that? What was holding him back? Why did he leave Tae-young lying there, holding his breath, anxiously waiting for Ace to finally push his cock inside, only for the gambler to come into his own fucking hand? Was that already enough for him? Did he not want to know what it would feel like? Why does Tae-young ache to find out…?
He squeezes his eyes shut, grimly dismissing those last thoughts. He doesn’t, and Ace is nothing more than a coward fearing the possible repercussions despite crossing so many lines already. It’s only natural for Tae-young to feel frustrated, especially when he’s been going so far in offering himself to the man. Just like it’s natural for his own body to react to the stimulation, so intensely that he had to sink his teeth into his lip until he had tasted blood. He wasn’t supposed to be touched like this, so who could blame his body’s confusion when Ace’s fingers brushed a spot inside him that made heat shoot to his cock and he panicked that he was going to come and the gambler’s name burned at the tip of his tongue?
In the end, none of that matters though, because in the moment of truth, he thought about Eun-ji, and it was her name that fell from his lips and he didn’t come like some degenerate from another man fingering his ass.
This isn’t about pleasure. It never was. And even though he’s no longer sure if this whole endeavour is not only petty but excessive, if this place is pushing him over the edge into the embrace of madness, he’s ultimately sure of one fact: His disdain for Ace Visconti is wholly justified and he’s going to collect more proof of that. That’s all that matters.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s finally going to be able to convince the others of that truth. So they would finally lose their wide-eyed admiration for the man that acts like he deserves it purely for his ‘skills’, even though he does nothing but strut around in his black tuxedo, provoking killers left and right.
And when this nightmare is finally over, he’s going to return to Eun-ji, and the memory of rough hands caressing his skin and that smug smile that makes his blood boil will be the furthest thing from his mind.