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7hyuns · 6 years ago

Text

something new

mark lee x reader

warnings; smut, the vaguest hints of angst if u squint a lot, degrading kink, rough kink, dom/sub themes, i don’t think protection is mentioned, bondage kink, swearing probably, a lil bit of bad aftercare

word count: about 12.1k ish

The room felt almost too hot to breathe in, even while you were uncovered completely and had every inch of your body on display to the drafts of cold night air filtering in from the open window. You wondered if you were allowed to just get up and leave immediately, or if it would be considered rude or even worse, if it would permanently damage his ego. Maybe if it was anyone else, you could have accepted that as a valid worry and let yourself over-analyse it, but it was him: you wouldn’t be able to dent his ego if you hit it with a sledgehammer. You played the conversation out over and over again in your head, thinking about each different direction it could head in, every single little development it could have, and it did nothing but give the effect of a burden against your chest.

You stopped to breathe, still lying there and staring blankly up at the ceiling of his bedroom and took a second to evaluate the situation you’d thrown myself into without thinking twice. It felt a little childish when you really thought about it; trying desperately to recreate a lingering daydream when you already knew the ending didn’t work out in my favour. Or maybe it was entirely normal to feel this empty after sleeping with someone, but that was another thing you wouldn’t know without asking someone else. And you already knew mentioning this to anyone else was off the table for you, and you hoped against logic that what had happened wouldn’t find its way back to any of your friends.

With all of that in mind, you realised that you should probably get out as soon as possible. You sat up, wondering what would happen if you just threw your legs over the side of the bed and made yourself stand up without hesitation, but that idea scared you. What would happen if you fell? Would he tell someone about that detail or leave it out when he recounted this to all of his friends as soon as the sun rose? You adjusted yourself so your legs were hanging off the bed, beginning to test the waters and see how far you could push myself before your body told you it was too tired to deal with this and gave up. You heard the light sound of shifting behind you, and you closed my eyes in a weak prayer that he’d just be turning in his sleep, but you knew it was a shout into the void when you felt his hand land on your hip.

“You leaving already?” He asked, deep voice light and teasing, and you tried as hard as you could to fight the slight flutter of your heart at him wanting me to stay. Ultimately, you failed, but you couldn’t let that stop you from getting away from this before you fell back into your position from earlier. You were pretty confident that whatever that was, it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t what you wanted from him.

You let out a breathy laugh, more forced than anything, and glanced around the room quickly in an attempt to locate your clothes before you had to stand up and re-dress yourself in front of him. You saw your jeans first, thrown onto the desk chair by his bed, just as his arm wound itself back around your waist as tightly as it had been earlier; then your underwear, dropped right by the foot of the bed, awkwardly hanging off the edge and making you twitch in an urge to grab them straight away, and you felt his plump lips press a misplaced kiss to the back of your neck; your bra and shirt were tossed in a crumpled heap on the floor, and you began to move away from his touch as soon as you worked out an order to your next movements.

He groaned after you pulled myself away, and even as you felt a blush creeping up your neck at the feeling of his heavy eyes watching you, you kept your back turned to him as you rushed to pull every item of clothing back onto your body. “I thought we were gonna watch a movie, though,” he inquired, making something in you bubble in embarrassment. You wondered if this was normal for him, such a daily occurrence that he could just sit through a movie afterwards and not want to ask questions. A small pang of pain made itself prevalent in your stomach, making you close your eyes just as you finished untucking your hair from where it had caught in your shirt. You didn’t want to go, not really, and you really couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach at the idea of him wanting you to be something more to him than before. But you could already hear another voice, the same voice you’d had to listen to for years growing up, telling you that you were always too busy grasping for control over him when it was impossible for you to hold onto. The word ‘yes,’ was caught in your throat, almost painful as you tried to swallow the lump forming there.

“I should probably get back home, it’s kinda late.” You reasoned quietly, turning to face him again, seeing him slouched back with his messy hair and pretty eyes, reminding you why you even hurt yourself to upkeep your friendship every day. But that’s what it was – a friendship, nothing more, and if it was anything more, it wasn’t what you wanted. You watched as he nodded, stretching his arms out and not-so-subtly flexing his muscles before he smiled brightly over at you, seemingly unperturbed by everything that had just happened in such a short space of time.

For an extremely brief moment, it almost felt like a real daydream you’d had before; with him looking at you so softly and smiling so perfectly, and a slight buzz of optimism wound its way into your veins. Until he spoke, “Alright,” he paused, his grin turning into something more like a sickening smirk as he continued, “this was fun though, right? We should do it again sometime, babe.”

So, maybe it was normal for it to be like this after you sleep with someone, and maybe it was something you would get used to like everyone else did, but that didn’t stop you from being unable to shake the almost unsatisfied feeling in your stomach. You were sure that couldn’t be it, because the way everyone spoke about it made it sound like it felt so good, but you had barely felt anything over those tense few moments. The only thing you could vividly remember was it being uncomfortable: a pressure that never seemed to go away until it was done.

You nodded, just enough for you to feel as if you were convincing both him and yourself that you would actually want to repeat this. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow, then.” You finished, turning on your heel and walking into the hallway of his house, hearing him shout a ‘yeah, of course,’ behind you. Only when you shut the door on the dim room behind you did you let yourself breathe in properly, moving your hands up to rub your palms against your sleep-filled eyes. You remembered vaguely that you had makeup on, but you couldn’t bring any of yourself to care through the haze of strange emptiness that had begun to settle itself in your chest.

You stumbled out of his house as quickly as you possibly could, only feeling any type of relief when you finally reached the cold air in its completeness, breathing in and out heavily as you made a few failed attempts at regulating your thinking process. Your house wasn’t far from his, and you managed to stabilise yourself long enough to reach your front door.

///

Your automatic assumption was that Taeyong would be painfully angry that you had stayed out for so long and come home looking like a complete wreck; your makeup smudged on your face, your hair messed up slightly and your previously neat outfit untucked, making it painstakingly obvious that you had re-dressed yourself in a rush. But when you didn’t hear loud footsteps coming toward you as soon as you entered, you questioned his entire reaction, wondering whether or not he would even care that much that you’d been out all day and looked like you’d fallen down a hill.

You wondered through the hallway of your house, glancing into the two rooms on the bottom floor before beginning to walk as slowly and quietly as you possibly could to reach the second floor. Part of you debated calling out to Taeyong, but you imagined that would quite probably make the situation a lot worse, so you decided to keep yourself as silent as possible. When you went to move past his bedroom door, you noticed that it was cracked open slightly, the light on and music playing.

When your curiosity finally got the better of you, you worked up the courage to push the door open, knocking against the wood a couple times just in case. “Taeyong?” You questioned, seeing somebody sat on the bed with a notebook on his lap as he scrawled something onto the paper. It very clearly wasn’t Taeyong, the boy’s hair too plainly coloured and skin a little too tanned. It was even more obvious when he glanced up, eyebrows lifting in inquiry, making you shift slightly on the balls of your feet in nervousness. “Sorry, I didn’t realise he had someone over.” You immediately went to close the door, ignoring the nagging want to ask where Taeyong was.

A slightly bashful smile tugged at his lips, before his expression changed to a much softer one, and you felt yourself calm almost straight away. “It’s fine, he went out to grab something, said he’d be back soon,” he paused, observing you as you tried to be subtle with fawning over his accent, making a deep blush cover your cheeks, “he said you were with a friend, though?”

At the mention of Mike, you almost groaned aloud, fighting the urge to crawl under your duvet and sob until you fell asleep. “Yeah, well, I got tired, so I came home.”

He hummed slightly, looking you up and down before squinting at you with a small grin shaping his lips. “Right,” he let himself grin completely then, looking almost cocky as he took in your appearance. You remembered then what you looked like, making you wish you had avoided coming anywhere near his room in the first place. You wanted to laugh with him about how awkward that situation had very obviously been, but under the circumstances, you could almost cry when you re-evaluated it again.

When you looked down to focus your eyes on the ground completely, he shifted, placing the notebook down and looking toward you. “Are you okay?” He asked, and you made yourself nod right after, swallowing the lump down in your throat before looking back over at him.

“Yeah, I’m just, really tired.” He nodded a little in response, looking completely unconvinced and more than slightly curious. “Do you mind telling Taeyong I’m home and I’ve gone to bed?” You asked cautiously, hoping to switch the conversation topic before you found yourself asking questions you probably didn’t want the answer to.

His lips parted a little as he nodded, making himself smile at you in an attempt to soothe your evident nerves. “Of course.”

You took a minute to work up the nerve to ask him something else before you went to curl yourself up and sleep for as long as you possibly could before you had to face Mike again. “What’s your name?”

Another verging on smug smile placed itself on his features as he spoke again, “I’m Mark, nice to meet you.”

///

Mark was still in the house when you woke up in the morning, and it was clear on Taeyong’s face that Mark must have mentioned something about last night. You knew you were probably going to have to answer a large run of questions from him when you were left alone with one another. While you tried to eat as calmly as possible to distract yourself from how weird you’d felt as soon as you’d woken up, Taeyong dragged the chair loudly along the floor to sit himself in. He then proceeded to drag it forward, not looking at Mark who was sat simply observing as Taeyong made his presence very well known. “Got any plans today?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you and waiting for an answer, watching intently as you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your plate. You didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Mark, or even with Taeyong, because not only were you carrying around something that was crushing you emotionally, you’d done something embarrassingly dumb and you didn’t want to explain another one of your regrets to Taeyong.

Your phone went off next to you, a text from Mike that just said, ‘Come watch a movie with me, I miss you x.’ The flutter in your stomach was less noticeable than it had been before, and you almost sighed at how tired you were with this new situation, and it hadn’t even been an entire day yet. Taeyong looked down at your phone, but you could only feel Mark watching your reaction to the text that he could plainly see. “Is that Mike?” He pushed, staring over at you as you muted your phone and shook your head, deciding that you didn’t want to deal with what you were feeling today. For a single second, the tiniest of moments, Taeyong’s expression softened just a little, the cold exterior he was presenting to make you re-think your previous decisions melting away just a little. A phone ringing interrupted whatever he was preparing to say next, and you let yourself catch Mark’s stare, watching as he took in your appearance once again. The observance made you a little self-conscious, so you dropped the eye contact as soon as you had caught it.

You could vaguely hear Taeyong talking to someone on his phone, but you couldn’t focus enough to know what he was saying in the conversation. When he stood up from the table and grabbed at his jacket, making both Mark and you look at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m really sorry Mark, I completely forgot I had plans today.” Mark nodded, responding something about it being fine and he should probably go home anyway, and you shuffled in your seat. No matter how uncomfortable you were about to be in whatever talk you had to have with Taeyong, you didn’t want to carry it around with your for another day without getting someone else’s opinion.

Hearing the front door slamming invaded the room completely, and you stared at your plate before moving to leave the kitchen. Mark watched you as you continued to go about everything normally, but something felt different about the way he was looking at you today. “Do you feel any better today?” His voice seemed relaxed, a lot less timorous than it had been yesterday.

You realised for the first time that he probably knew a lot more about what happened last night than you had even let on to him. “I guess,” You decided to keep it as unattached as possible, hoping he would pick up the conversation so you could ask whatever questions you had bouncing around in your head.

Once again, he hummed in response, parting his lips in thought before he spoke again. He stayed silent for a few seconds, before he stood up and gestured to the living room, and you found yourself following before you could even think about what you were doing for yourself. When you had both sat down and Mark looked more confident, he opened his mouth to talk again, before pausing again and re-thinking his words and then continuing. “I’m gonna make a really big assumption, so correct me if I’m wrong,” he began, watching you the entire time so he could check to see if you looked uncomfortable. “But you had some seriously disappointing sex last night.”

When it was put like that, you couldn’t stop yourself laughing, and if you completely ignored the emotion behind it, it was an easier situation to deal with. But you knew you couldn’t answer that question, because you had nothing else to compare it to. You stopped gradually, watching as he slowed as well, staring at you as if a sign that you should continue, “I don’t know.” You answered simply, shifting in front of his intense gaze.

He raised his eyebrow again, and you felt that same timid feeling creeping back up on you as you struggled to answer his unspoken question. “It’s the only time I’ve ever done anything with anyone, so.” At this, he looked a little taken aback.

“Did you, like, enjoy it at all?” He asked, not moving uncomfortably but clearly not being entirely confident in the conversation.

You stopped yourself from rushing through an answer, thinking about everything that happened last night before responding properly. “It was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t horrific. It would’ve been worse if it was anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” He pushed forward.

Your stomach flipped, realising you were going to have to delve into this part of what happened. “Yeah, Mike is…I guess I’ve kinda liked him for a while.”

Mark laughed, although it sounded more like a scoff, and you were almost offended. “You like him enough to have boring sex?” You wondered passingly if that was going to end up being the case, but you didn’t have anything else to work with, realistically.

“No, but, you know. I wouldn’t know how to change that, would I?” You responded, a little uncomfortably, watching as he looked as if was seriously debating it, although he looked almost disappointed.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second as he finally answered, “Try out new things, have fun with it.”

You tilted my head at him, “New things?”

“Yeah, look into kinks you wanna try out with someone else.” He said, looking at you intently, watching as you blushed slightly under his un-faltering eye contact.

“What kind do you think I should try?” You asked, wondering if it was a far too personal question to ask someone who you’d only known for a small amount of time.

At this, something in him seemed to click into place, making him look much more commanding than he’d seemed before. “I mean, take it easy at first because you’re still new to this, but – and I hope you don’t think I’m being invasive – Taeyong said you’re a bit of a control freak, so maybe try and let that go.”

A bubble of nerves made itself prevalent in your stomach, and you wondered what else Taeyong could have possibly mentioned. “How would I do that?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, looking briefly affected by my question. “Ask him to be dominant with you,” he took a small pause, looking as if he was testing the waters with something, “I know Mike, I’m sure he’ll know what you mean.”

You tried not to feel as if that was an insult, but you couldn’t see it as anything other than a personal warning. Mark adjusted himself slightly, huffing in an almost annoyed manner before standing up and turning to you, “It’s been really nice meeting you,” he said, picking up his keys and phone from the coffee table in front of you, “good luck with Mike.”

///

You weren’t sure that the word ‘sometime,’ was defined by an exact number of days or weeks, but you hadn’t imagined doing something ‘sometime,’ meant doing something again a couple weeks later. But you supposed everyone had different interpretations of it, and maybe Mike’s idea of it was a shorter span of time than you thought of it. Realistically, it didn’t matter, because it was going to happen anyway, you may as well get it out of the way, so you could stop thinking about it all the time.

And you realised in that moment, with his lips pressed harshly against yours and hands moving all over your body as he pulled at different items of clothing almost too fast, if the freeze-frame moments from movies were real, it would have happened right now for you. You pulled yourself away from his mouth for a moment, moving further back as his mouth chased after yours, “Mike, wait.”

He pulled back so he could fully see your face, but his hands continued their way up into your shirt, immediately going to map over every inch of your skin. “Can we try something out?” You asked, feeling a twinge of awkwardness in your stomach when he cupped your chest in an uncomfortable position.

Judging by the look plastered on his face, you could tell he’d already figured it out, but you wanted to know that you’d had the confidence to say it. “Can you be more, you know, dominant with me?” You asked, repeating what Mark had said almost word for word.

Thinking of Mark took you out of the moment a little, knowing he’d been lightly teasing you and offering you advice about this for the past couple weeks, however hesitantly. It almost felt as if he was withholding specifics, ignoring Mike’s personality and just saying ‘Well, a good dom would do this.’ The last few weeks hadn’t been too bad, you supposed, and you’d managed to avoid the conversation with Taeyong completely by having Mark communicate the basics of it. Because as much as you loved how supportive Taeyong had been of you since you’d met when you were seven, he got a little overbearing a thousand times over the course of your friendship. Never enough to change anything, though, you accepted, considering there’d been no second thoughts about moving in with him when you got away from your hometown.

The sound of Mike repeating a question bought you back to the moment, although part of you wished it hadn’t and that you’d been allowed to continue thinking of all the times you had spent just being yourself with Taeyong. You already knew whatever you decided to do in these moments wasn’t an active decision on your end, because you were never really yourself when you were with Mike. “Babe?” He questioned, pushing you onto your back to catch your attention, and you felt yourself become fully present again. “I said, how hard do you want me to go?”

The question added to his overly-confident facial expression worried you to the point of considering backing down from the situation ahead of you. “You decide.” You finalised, thinking that Mark had told you to give up trying to control things, and that’s what you should try and do in the moment. You also remembered vaguely that he had told you to not throw yourself into it, and he’d reiterated nearly a thousand times that you would definitely need to come down from it afterwards. Although you chose to ignore this, because you couldn’t see anything bad enough happening to make you feel that bad.

Mike had moved onto kissing down your neck, one of his large hands moving to pin both of yours above your head as he continued his movements. He paused for a moment, moving to grab something from a drawer before placing your hands on the headboard and wrapping a belt so tight around your wrists you wondered vaguely if it would cut off your blood flow and you’d end up losing both hands over a split-second decision. He didn’t ask if they were too tight, and you were too nervous to say anything, so you decided to bear with it.

The next passing few moments were void of anything other than him undressing himself and then you, giving you room to imagine what could be happening if this was done properly. From how Mark had talked about it, it sounded interesting, intriguing enough to get you curious and wondering if you would ever have the opportunity to try it out efficiently with someone. You felt Mike’s hands grab at different bits of your body, but other than that, he seemed to be focusing pretty fully on the element of dominance you’d asked him to show.

When his hand came to tighten itself around your throat, you’d felt something you hadn’t felt last time with him, a genuine excitement for this to continue and go somewhere further. But the second he started pressing down, the excitement just turned to pain and discomfort, the pressure being directly on your throat and cutting off your breathing almost completely. You worried that this wasn’t supposed to happen, that he would end up actually choking you to death, but you didn’t really understand any of this, and Mark had said he could see Mike knowing what he was doing.

By the time he released his grip on your neck you were verging on passing out, your eyes fluttering closed in what he clearly perceived to be pleasure. “It’s disgusting how much you liked that,” he began, moving to accommodate himself between your legs. You knew this had been coming, and you tried to figure out why it didn’t make you feel anything but embarrassed and apprehensive. Mark had said it was supposed to be a mix of humiliating and exciting for the person on the receiving end, and you definitely felt the humiliation, but not in any kind of exciting form.

Your mind kept drifting back to Mark, even as Mike latched his hand to your throat and placed pressure on it again, his other hand going to slap the backs of your thighs and mouth biting down on my stomach and chest. You tried to get into it, tried to think of why it was supposed to be fun, but it just felt, mediocre in comparison to everything Mark had described doing to someone. When Mike’s pace got even more bruising and you still felt next to nothing enjoyable, you found yourself reverting to thinking of Mark in an almost desperate attempt to make yourself feel better.

You tried to picture what you would be feeling if Mark was the one doing this to you instead of Mike, what it would feel like to have his hands wrapped tightly around your throat and his mouth on your chest. You could already tell that Mark knew enough about this kind of thing to know he wouldn’t be choking you half to death like Mike was currently doing. It was strange, being so bored that you changed to simply thinking about the time spent with Mark instead of the years you’d spent around Mike.

All those times Mike and you had gotten so close you were almost kissing, all the things you’d told him while you sat on his lap and had his head in the crook of your neck, every single time his touches had been teetering on the edge of blatant teasing, and now this; lying here on his bed with him above you like you’d always imagined when you’d first started fancying him all those years ago. The feeling of his hands all over you and his lips following in their path was something you had basically chased after for so long, and now that it was actually happening, you were thinking about somebody else.

All the times you’d accidentally gaped at him with a look you could never place while he spoke about activities that were impossibly mundane to him, all the times you’d been hooked onto every single word that tumbled past his lips about things you would’ve considered filthy before. In the moment after, you knew you were probably going to regret your next action, but as much as you tried, you honestly couldn’t stop yourself. “Mark,” you moaned almost obscenely, and then panic tightened itself inside you, more over the fact that you’d done that than that you were genuinely about to pass out from how strong his hold on your throat was.

“Huh?” Mike asked, head pressed against your chest as he continued to leave little nips everywhere.

Panic overtook you as you stuttered through a believable lie. “Mark me,” you said, attempting to recreate the same moan you’d emitted earlier, doing a better job than you could have first seen yourself doing.

At your answer, Mike did nothing but bite down harder, although you didn’t have to put up with it for very much longer. When his hips finally slowed to a stop and he pulled out and away from you, you just wanted to leave, despite the burning pain you were experiencing both mentally and physically. You weren’t completely sure what was hurting most in an emotional sense, losing all feeling for Mike so quick you almost felt ridiculous for pining after him for such a long time in the first place, or the fact that he’d actually hurt your feelings tonight. Or maybe it was the weird headspace you were in, like you couldn’t do anything for yourself and wanted plain instructions to follow. Maybe you were getting delirious from the burning pains in every different part of your body, and you regretted choosing to walk here and not tell anyone but Mark your plans.

The thought of Mark was what finally made you move, the embarrassment of moaning his name instead of Mike’s and the natural impulse to go and find him so he would make you feel better pulling you away from your questions. Part of you hoped uselessly that Mike would do something, literally anything, to help you or at least explain to you what you were feeling. “Can you,” you went to ask, your voice dying in your throat at how sheepish you currently sounded.

Mike got the message, undoing the belt and letting your arms fall back down. As soon as you could, you pulled yourself to sit up, going immediately to your spread around clothes and almost hissing in discontent at the pain in so many different parts of your body you weren’t sure you had time to check them all. Your arm movements felt clumsy and unnatural, the ache falling through them as blood began to circulate properly into them both again. You didn’t even say goodbye to Mike, opting instead to awkwardly wave because you weren’t entirely sure you could use your voice, or even swallow properly anymore.

When you’d finally got out of his house, you followed your usual route home, your body screeching in protest as you walked until you reached your front door, hoping that Taeyong would be out so you could clean yourself up without trying to explain to him. Your mind still felt clouded and weird, and you couldn’t see yourself being able to speak efficiently to anyone, especially not in a way that didn’t make you completely and utterly embarrass yourself.

///

You fought against your aching arms to push the front door open, closing it behind you and the stopping to sit at the kitchen table and curl yourself up for a few moments of peace. You tucked your head into your arms and scrunched your eyes closed as tightly as you possibly could, hoping this would stop the swirling about in your head or the pain in each of your limbs.

You heard a patter of steps come down the stairs, and a scalding discomfiture made itself ultimately prevalent, alongside the heaviness of your mind currently. When you felt a hand lightly brush against your shoulder instead of a voice immediately demanding to know if there was something wrong, you shifted so you could look up. You immediately wondered why Mark was here again, especially since it didn’t seem Taeyong was home, but he quickly quieted you before you had a chance to struggle to ask him anything, “We had classes, he asked me to come back here and wait for him while he did the second one, said you wouldn’t mind.”

You didn’t mind, of course you didn’t, it was even more difficult to avoid Mark if you had even wanted to, considering Taeyong seemed to have decided he liked him enough to continue his attempts at setting you up with people who weren’t Mike. You just nodded, slumping your shoulders forward as you swallowed thickly, wincing as it stung against your bruised throat. “Is everything okay?” Mark asked, moving to touch your hands from where he was stood above you, watching as you pulled your wrist away a little too anxiously for him to drop his pestering. He slowly reached over to cup your covered wrist as he pushed the sleeve of your jumper up enough to see a light bruise forming there. “So, how was Mike?” He questioned, looking like you’d slapped him when he realised you’d gone ahead with his idea.

You realised for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to even think about Mike at the moment. At least you could definitively say that you tried to make whatever experiences you could class those as with him work, but he was just bad at it. You were sure you couldn’t fix that, and you were fairly certain it was supposed to feel better than that, because Mark made it feel better than that without even touching you.

You shrugged, feeling small under Mark’s glare, and you wished for once he was giving you that look in a different moment. “I don’t know.” You responded, feeling like a petulant child as you struggled to find a reasonable explanation for what had just happened. It was so awfully bad that it almost felt as if it had to be some big joke, but your mind was still slightly too foggy to work through the reasoning behind why Mike still had so many girls thrown all over him when it was over in two minutes.

“Did it feel good?” He pushed, and for a vague moment you had to swallow the need to say that it would have, if he would’ve done it, you could tell it would have. You wondered why he felt the need to ask these questions, if it was to check if he had been right, or if he had some kind of need to prove that Mike was the worst dom in existence. You supposed if he had that need, it would be something you could definitely fulfil.

You shook your head, hoping you could avoid speaking so he wouldn’t hear how choked up you were. Mark sighed, staring at you with a look in his eyes that he’d only ever used before when you’d burnt yourself trying to cook for him. You weren’t sure you liked that look, because it both intimidated you and interested you in something that felt so achingly untouchable: a cross between anger and something smouldering. “What did he use to tie your hands?”

You could stop this conversation at any point, you recognised, knowing you could probably make Mark back down if you told him you didn’t like it, but that would be a lie. You liked having Mark express the same interest in you that you did with him, it was a returned affection that you hadn’t ever been able to grasp before with anyone else, especially not Mike. “A belt.”

He nodded cautiously, chewing his lip lightly in the way he did before he pushed a boundary again. “What did he put on it afterwards?”

At this question, you automatically rose your eyebrows at him, almost in a disbelieving manner at the idea that Mike would care enough to even ask if you felt okay afterwards. You wanted to answer, but your throat hurt and it was clear judging by the way he looked practically disgusted that he understood perfectly.

“He did do some kind of aftercare, though, right?” He asked, completely aware that he was pushing the unspoken but clearly placed boundaries again when you had started speaking so openly about everything he was into and what he thought you should do with someone.

Mark never really talked about aftercare, he just repeated himself multiple times during those conversations that Mike would need to do something so you felt alright afterwards. You supposed it was shame on you for not thinking about it in the slightest, but you refused to accept blame for this, because you hadn’t known what you were expected to do or be afterwards. Again, you responded by shaking your head and staring almost mindlessly at Mark, understanding that you probably looked impossibly dumb in the moment; staring up at him with wide eyes and expecting him to fix everything.

You weren’t sure what was running through his mind, but he obviously had more questions before he did anything else. “He let you walk all the way home afterwards?” You nodded. “Did he ask if you felt alright?” You shook your head. “Do you feel alright?”

You wondered what your response should be; if you told him the truth and said you didn’t, he’d probably think you didn’t like the basis for what Mike and you did, which wasn’t the case; but if you told him you felt fine, you might be stuck in this weird, between headspace for an even longer time. You took a second to look down before shaking your head slightly, hoping he wouldn’t make you talk anymore.

He gently grabbed you to direct you to stand up, pulling you along behind him as if you were made of glass and about to shatter at any moment. You followed him up the stairs, even when your legs protested at the sensation, walking until you reached the bathroom and he sat you down on the closed toilet lid. He moved about for a few moments, leaving you to consider telling him everything that had happened and explaining yourself entirely before he made a set opinion of what he thought happened. When he returned in front of you, he seemed impossibly calm and soothing, rubbing cream onto your wrists and checking to make sure the skin hadn’t split. He looked back to you, observing you enough to make you shuffle in diffidence, “Does anything else hurt?”

Your brain immediately said, ‘He hurt my feelings,’ but you realised before it slipped that it was far too petty of a response to such a kind question. You gestured to your neck, making him move with a gentle haste as he tilted your chin up to better look at the bruise. He repeated the actions he’d used for your wrists on your throat, only this time he handed you a bottle of water and stopped everything until you’d drank a large portion of it. If he asked again, you would probably have to say that was it, because the others you couldn’t see him being able to do much about. What was he supposed to do about there being hickies and bite marks on your chest? Rub cream over them? Even when you didn’t feel fully in charge of yourself, you knew rationally you weren’t too into having that happen just yet.

When he’d finished his ministrations, you waited for him to tell you what to do next, sitting there patiently as you assumed he’d continue with something else. “How about, you know, emotionally?” You were always faintly intrigued to find out if he’d done something like this before, or if he’d done it loads of times, because he seemed a lot less inept with this than he came across when he scrambled to make small talk around other people.

“My head feels, weird?” You offered, hoping he would take something away from that statement that made some form of logical sense in his mind. He nodded slowly, taking a few seconds to fully think about what he was going to do next, a small crease finding its way onto his forehead as he peered down at you with impossibly softening features, the bathroom light hitting his brown eyes and making them glow ever so slightly.

You felt an overwhelming urge pressed against your chest to tell him about what happened, having him in such a close proximity to you that you could barely breathe didn’t help you push back that impulse. “You know the whole boundary thing between us?” You asked hesitantly, attempting to do the same as he did when he was about to push a barrier down to better suit his needs. His eyes didn’t stray from yours for even a split second as he nodded his head, so slightly that it was barely visible. “I think I broke all of them today.”

He wasn’t struggling to maintain the eye contact, evidently, but he seemed to be finding difficulty in standing completely still and keeping his hands to himself. “What did you do?” He inquired, and you could feel the genuine wonder in his words, because you presumed, it would be a difficult thing to out-rightly guess.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was with Mike,” you studied his stoic expression as you tried to get a reaction, tried to get him to react on an impulsive second of passion. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would’ve felt if you were doing it to me instead.” You let yourself lean into the hand that was still resting faintly at the base of your throat, feeling a kind of self-assurance you were certain you’d never felt in your entire life. “Because I bet you really do know what you’re doing, right?” You questioned, more sarcastically than anything, because you both knew you could answer that yourself. He was still watching you, but something glinted in his eyes and you could feel whatever invisible boundary he’d tried to place between us – more so for your comfort than his, you imagined – snapped. He was looking at you like you were nothing more than prey, the tender stare he previously had fixed on you gone entirely.

“Did you say my name?” He spoke, and it was like you were finally getting some kind of relief, feeling his arms snake themselves around your waist in a manner you should have flinched away from in intimidation, but instead found yourself curling closer to. You nodded, watching as a smug smile pulled his lips upwards of their own accord, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he proceeded. “No, use your words.”

Your breath was almost entirely too caught to form any words, but you spat out a quick, “Yes.”

“What lie did you tell him? Was he convinced you weren’t thinking about someone else’s hands on you?” His voice remained absolutely monotone as he spoke, giving away no hints to what he was feeling.

Your brain felt like it was kicking into overdrive, spinning out of control to the point where you almost couldn’t keep up with it. “I,” You were almost wholly forgetting how to speak, looking back into his darkening eyes as he stared you down. “I told him I wanted him to leave marks.”

Mark’s lips parted slightly again, a complacent appearance finding its way onto his features, giving him an overly-cocky air, but in a different way than Mike wore it. “Was he hurt? Did it burn a hole in his ego to know you were thinking about another guy?” His voice was so much more assertive than it had ever gotten with you before. You shook your head, temporarily speechless at how hot the bathroom had started to feel around you.

“He doesn’t know.” All you were able to make yourself do was feed into Mark’s behaviour, to be more open than you’d ever found yourself able to be with anyone before this minute with him.

It was like he couldn’t stop the inflation of his self-importance, and you didn’t sense any want inside of you for him to refrain from it, either. “I promised myself I wouldn’t spell it out for you, but you’re so oblivious it’s painful.” He turned you both to the side, in the direction of the closed door, walking you backwards until your back hit the wood. “You just never realise how good I can make you feel, how much better I can do everything I know you like than he could.” He wasn’t even holding you between him and the door, but you couldn’t find anything inside of you that told you that you could challenge the authority he was quite clearly holding above you.

Taeyong wasn’t good at keeping things to a strict plan, and he wasn’t good at detaching his emotions from situations that needed tough love. But you could never say he wasn’t absolutely right about everything he’d ever summarised from your personality, or that he didn’t know you better than you knew yourself sometimes. Control wasn’t something you would let go of again as quickly as you had for Mike, although the verging on alarm feeling that was making itself known inside your stomach made you doubt your ability to deny any of this. “Then prove it.” You tested, wanting to see how far you could push him when he was acting like this.

He was impossibly close to you; his hot breath fanning against you face, the smell of clean laundry blocking out all of your other rational thoughts. His eyes were heavy, thick and clouded with something you couldn’t see through as he made the space between you grow larger with every step back he took. You couldn’t stop the childish whine that tumbled past your lips as the burn of his touch was replaced with cold air. “You have to wait.” He settled, eyes flitting to the left-over marks from Mike as he pursed his lips in annoyance.

Hearing the front door open loudly and a deep voice announce that he was home, Mark went to pass you, tensing up in irritation when you gripped his forearm in the same manner he had done to you earlier. “I can wait.” You practically hissed, already knowing you were lying straight through your teeth.

At this, Mark laughed, shaking your hold off as if it was the gentlest grip he’d ever felt in his life. “You don’t have any other choice.”

///

After spending a little over a week fussing over your bruises to make them go away as fast as possible, you finally felt confident in them being dull enough that Mark wouldn’t care anymore. While explaining to Taeyong where the marks had come from was a trying task, he moved on when you finally gave in and told him the truth about Mike and everything you’d done with him. For the first time since you could remember, you were finally grateful for his parental lectures, because it really was the final nail in a coffin you should have buried years ago. But the only real thing that made the passing of the week physically painful was the lack of Mark’s presence in your company explicitly. He’d spent nearly every bit of his free time at the house, coming over on the grounds of spending time with Taeyong; watching movies with him while disappearing for bathroom breaks and coming into your room to make small talk and drop in every kind of teasing remark he could think of, ordering food and leaving touches that lingered far too long for them to be considered friendly against any bare skin he could find.

Once the Friday rolled around, you could barely contain my excitement at seeing Mark again, but your plans were thrown out into the night the second Taeyong walked through the front door. It hadn’t slipped your mind that he’d asked if it was okay for him to have friends over, but you hadn’t imagined there would be more than two. Now there were nearly seven different people sat downstairs while you pouted in your room, feeling like a grounded child. When Taeyong called for you to come downstairs, you dragged your feet with every step you took forward, wishing you could just get Mark alone for two seconds. “We’re gonna head out for the night,” He said when you reached the bottom of the stairs, the fabric of the shorter version of your pretty shorts you’d put on specifically to get Mark’s attention making you shift a little in discomfort. “What are your plans tonight?” It was bad to use a question he’d posed to check on you to get your own way, but in the end: what were best friends really for if not that exact thing?

“I might go watch a movie with Mike later.” You tested, more so for Taeyong’s immediate reaction than Mark’s, but you could feel something flip already.

Taeyong rolled his eyes, pouting his bottom lip out in disappointment as he glanced at the clock. “Take a jacket, be safe.” You softened a little, nodding at him as he proceeded to frown and glare at you as he pulled his shoes on, “We still have to talk about it later.”

As they all filed out the door, Mark looked at you like he wanted to say something, before he turned to Taeyong and said, “I think I’m gonna head home, I’m not feeling too good.” You heard Taeyong ask about dropping him off, asking him if he was ill, but it all sounded as if was being said underwater. The feeling coursing through your veins couldn’t really be separated from either panic or exhilaration, but it didn’t feel bad.

Mark took one final glance at you before he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving you stood in the middle of the hallway alone. It was like you were glued to the spot, unable to find the permission you didn’t actually need to move, listening to the cars start and leave. Less than five minutes later, a knock sounded through the house, making you move slowly toward the door, hand gripping the key before turning it. The door swung open as soon as the lock clicked to signal he could walk in, and you found yourself being pushed back by the force of it. He repeated his earlier action of slamming it shut, only this time pausing to spin the key in the lock. When he turned back to you, you tried to see if this was genuine anger or not, but all you could sense was a kind of radiating dominance, the kind he’d spoken about you looking for in someone else.

“Just when I was about to say you’d been so good for me,” he spat, pacing toward you, “You go and act like a slut in front of everyone else.” Your head felt like it was spinning, a small tremble of anticipation moving throughout your whole body. The words that left Mark’s mouth in such a commanding way had made you cringe back to just a week ago, but it seemed different coming from him, like there was something more there. He had a way of leaving you unbearably curious for what his next motion would be, for whatever he decided to do. You could see yourself stepping back, denying his advance just to see what he would do in retaliation, but you were rooted to the spot, even more so when he roughly latched his hands onto both of your wrists, holding you in place. He tilted his head down until you could feel his lips against the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine, “You’re only supposed to act like that for me.”

It was unfamiliar, the way you found yourself immediately clambering to find some kind of excuse without even consciously being aware you were doing it. “You’ve been ignoring me, I, I miss you.”

He scoffed, “So, you run off to Mike?”

Something inside of you was boiling, you felt like you were being scolded for something that you could feel yourself rejecting any responsibility for. “At least he’d actually fuck me.” You snapped back at him, instantly feeling your heart speed up in expectation.

Mark seemed sincerely mad, his grip tightening as he shoved you in the direction of the stairs. He didn’t speak, but you knew that he wanted you to walk up them, but with every stair you climbed, his hold seemed to grow even tighter, until it felt almost painful. He continued to direct you in silence, pushing you along in front of him until you got into your bedroom, when he shut the door with as much force as he could muster, a slam bouncing off the walls as he wrapped his arms around you and pushed you up onto the wall. “Say it again.” You rapidly shook your head, not wanting to speak ever again unless you absolutely had to. He groaned in vexation, “Tell me again why you’re running back to Mike.”

You were realising what control really meant in this moment, and you weren’t entirely sure having any type of control like this was what you’d ever wanted. “Because,” you stopped again, losing your train of thought as you remembered how disappointing everything with Mike was. “Because he’d actually fuck me.”

Mark’s hand came to curl around your throat, not applying any pressure but making it direct that he could at any moment if he wanted to. “Could he make you feel good?” He disputed, barely moving an inch as he waited for you to fall down again.

“Can you?” Within milliseconds of the words passing your chapped lips, he had yanked you off the wall and had your back pressed tightly against his chest.

“You should be more worried about whether I let you feel good.” He responded, one of his hands winding its way into your hair and tugging it forcefully. Once he had your head dragged back so he could press his lips over the shell of your ear and drop them down comfortably to the space between your jaw and neck, he began speaking again.

“When we spoke about this, you sounded like such a good girl,” His lips trailed across the expanse of your neck, your hair secured in his grip so it wasn’t creating any sort of block. “But you’re such a little brat.”

There was something about his tone and the words he was using that made you melt, made you want to adhere to everything he wanted. “I didn’t mean to be,” You offered, hoping it would be enough to get you off the hook when you already knew that was impossible.

“No?” He inquired, his mouth pausing against the skin of your neck as he spun you around to face him. You shook my head again, straining to see what his next reaction would be. “Can you prove that for me?”

You tilted your head as much as his iron hold on you would allow, “How?”

His expression changed then, noticing you had completely relinquished any form of control you wrongly assumed you had a hold of. He turned you around again, this time opting to bend you over the foot of my bed for him, making you feel like you were on display for his eyes only. “When I ask questions, you’re supposed to answer.” You went to respond that you understood, but he slammed the palm of his hand down onto your ass, “Don’t make any noise unless I tell you to.” He repeated his previous actions, gaining in roughness as you bit your lip harshly to hold back any noises threatening to spill past your closed mouth. The little stimulation this was providing felt better than anything you’d done with Mike had, and you whined again when his hand slowed to smooth over the red skin. “Listen to me, princess.”

You nodded, not really thinking about it too much, just wanting him to do more. “I don’t know how much of this you’ve done, so you need to tell me if you don’t like anything.”

Somewhere in your mind you knew you couldn’t see that happening, but you wanted to entertain his build up so he’d get to it. “How?” You asked again, it seemed to be turning into the only word you could put into something that sounded coherent.

“If you want me to stop, say red and I will.” It sounded so simple and plain that you didn’t really need to respond with anything other than a nod. The moment of tenderness was short and ended just as quickly as they began. Mark didn’t delay getting back into it, already moving away from you entirely. “On the bed, on your back.”

You practically lurched forward in the fervour of your desperation, doing everything you could so you would finally be able to see his face again. He pulled his white shirt over his head before he moved back over to you, hands attaching themselves to your shorts as he tugged them down in a slightly eager manner, leaving your underwear on as he pulled your shirt up, waiting expectantly for you to accommodate him as he tore it a little in his haste to pull it over your head. He pulled back a second to scan your near-naked body, making you alter your positioning in slight unease. His hands moved collectedly to undo your bra, stopping again to stare as he tossed it across the room somewhere. You felt too bare in front of him, while he was still mainly clothed, but you attempted to focus on not doing something that would break one of his unstated rules. Every one of his actions seemed instinctive, as if his natural reflex was to press your hands above your head while he teased his mouth further down your body.

When he broke the skin on skin contact, you felt a growing need to groan in indignation, causing you to bite down as hard as you possibly could to stop yourself on your bottom lip. He just continued to observe you as he pulled his belt off, tugging his jeans down soon after, a glow of self-assurance hovering around him in a way you hadn’t envisioned as possible when you’d first met him. The only uncertainty you could see in his face was there when he moved to attach your wrists to the headboard with his belt, but when he didn’t hear you make any noise of discontent, he continued. After repeating the same action Mike had not so long ago, you felt the thing you’d been craving every time Mike touched you, the thing that swallowed you with its absence. It was the feeling of knowing nothing but Mark, not caring what happened afterwards, not thinking about anyone else, not being able to separate yourself from what was happening around you. You hoped he felt the same, you hoped he was regarding you in the same way you were with him right in the minute, as his hands curved in the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your legs at such a slow pace you could have cried right then.

This was when you started to concern yourself with the notion that this could get as inadequate as it was with Mike, that you would be left unsatisfied again after another painstakingly boring five minutes of your life. But you could feel the idea of that happening start to slide away as his hand slid between your legs, pushing every other thought you could even initiate distracting yourself with, away. Vaguely, you remembered that Mike hadn’t done this, even when that hadn’t felt half as fast-paced as this moment with Mark did. It was almost embarrassing how much of a mess you were becoming in front of Mark, especially when he was barely doing anything, skimming his fingertips over where you wanted him. A cold laugh passed through his lips as he examined your thirsting movements, bringing his other hand to press your hips flat down onto the mattress so you couldn’t move of your own accord anymore.

“Mark, please,” You whimpered, trying against rational logic to push harshly against his forearm that kept you steadily held down. If you were anywhere near your right mind, you would have considered the possibility that this was just getting him off more, you would have remembered the innumerable conversations that had you shifting in your seat at the idea of someone treating you like he said he would. It was hard to perceive him as anything other than complex, and you couldn’t find the mental strength to try and look into his reasoning behind his torturous actions, especially when it felt so definitive that he knew what he was doing.

The kind of relief he gave you then was unimaginable, better than anything you’d felt before, and it almost made guilt seep its way into my chest. You tried to remind yourself that you shouldn’t feel guilty, you had nothing to feel like that for, but you were quite literally giving all of yourself to Mark in a way you never even gave Mike a chance with. But the feeling of Mark dipping his head down between your legs made you remember why the circumstances were nothing alike.

Mark didn’t seem to slow himself at all, the pace he had set the second his hands had gripped your wrists in the bathroom that night still being upheld assuredly. Your stomach was turning into knots, tensing up as he didn’t give on his deliberate movements of his mouth and hands, making you tug on the belt fastened to your wrists. You wanted to run my hands through his brown hair, tug on it and grab at the hand that was currently situated across your hips. You wondered if that was still a boundary, or if was just something he was doing for fun, for the both of us.

The tightening in your stomach only got more prevalent, consuming your mind entirely, throwing every thought of anything but the way Mark’s mouth felt against your heat out the window. You knew he could tell, the dominance laced with his unhurried motions told you everything, and you trembled as he stopped after pushing you to every edge he could find. He stayed completely still except for moving his lips to press faint kisses to the flesh of the inside of your thighs, humming slightly in mock confusion when you whined and shuffled around under his grip again. “Did you want something?” He teased, barely glancing up at from where he begun to bite down on you skin, leaving large marks behind.

With the sensation of his lips and hands no longer burning through your mind, you could feel a vague hint of embarrassment causing a flush to cover your cheeks. “You know what I want,” you complained, feeling him push your hips down cruelly onto the mattress, making you give up and lay there just staring down at him.

“I thought you would’ve realised already,” He spoke, voice holding the same authoritative tone as he’d been using all this time, but it felt thicker now, as if his voice had dropped several pitches since he’d started talking. “You don’t get what you want unless you deserve it.”

Immediately, you tried to think of what you’d done to not deserve everything he had almost given you, considering you hadn’t done anything that bad. “Do I not deserve it?” You questioned lightly, making him groan quietly before he could hold it back.

He adjusted again, hands moving back to teasing you and mouth trailing higher and higher up with every word he spoke. “Not until I’m sure you know I’m the only one who can ever make you feel this good.” He repeated his actions again then, not speaking another word or making much noise at all, making you move about in more desperation, hoping to gain some more of his attention, even if it was all currently placed on you anyway. He paused, cocking his head up at you as he licked his lips, “Stop moving or I’ll have to stop touching you.” You couldn’t even find the confidence to whine after that, chewing on your bottom lip so much you could feel blood begin to drop out after a few moments. When he drove you all the way to the edge and stopped again, you took the momentary clarity he’d allowed you to speak.

“Can I please make noise?” His head all but cracked upwards in your direction, a small noise sounding something between a groan and a hiss passing through his throat. In the less rushed atmosphere, he moved to hover above you, lips so close to yours that it burnt a blush onto your cheeks. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, wiping away the blood on the surface before he crashed his lips onto yours. The only thing you could think or feel was his lips against yours, the taste of something you’d never had before pouring into your mouth: it was ultimately distracting, disallowing any other thought of Mike to get anywhere near you. His hand had moved to curl around your throat, only this time he pressed down on the sides of your neck so lightly you could almost beg for him to give you something more.

He pulled back, staring at you with a look you already knew you’d never be able to place. He seemed indecisive on whether he wanted to observe you or keep his lips to yours until you were both gasping for air again, but his face remained stoic as he spoke calmly again. “Make as much noise as you need to, angel.” You whimpered at the pet-name, watching as he seemed to grow impossibly more confident as he applied more pressure to your throat. Even as he started and set the pace, you knew you had the option to stop if this got too much, but it had been too much the moment he’d opened his mouth downstairs. He had you entirely wrapped around his finger, ready to throw anything away for him if he told me to. You should have been embarrassed of how loud you were being, but the only coherent thought you had in your mind was a need to repeat his name until nothing else seemed to exist. It wasn’t as if he seemed to mind, his head dropped into the crook of your neck as he bit down on the skin that wasn’t covered by his hand already. “Did he make you feel this good?” You hear him ask, voice slightly strained but otherwise as controlled as it was earlier.

“No,” You stammered, unable to think of anything else you could possibly in this moment.

Mark continued, the pace picking up as it felt bruising in the best way available, “Did you act like a slut for him, too?” He pushed, making you more than a little flustered, moving further into his grip on your throat as you desperately shook your head.

“Because you’d only act like this for me, wouldn’t you?” He wasn’t even asking questions for any reason anymore, he was just waiting and watching the flush on your face turn shades darker in excited humiliation. The nod was a natural instinct, like a lot of what Mark had done tonight, it happened because you knew it was what he wanted. “Why?”

Your mind felt almost too clouded and covered to form words, the knots forming in the pit of your stomach for the third time that night, when you hadn’t felt them ever before. The idea of not being allowed to fall off that edge this time made you let out an involuntary noise of a cross between pain and apprehension. “Only you can make me feel this good,” The hold on your throat loosened a little, as if he thought the choking sound you emitted was because of it being too tight. “It feels so good, Mark, please.” Again, the slight shame of how submissive and messy you sounded for him crept in, but it was completely devoured by the deep groan he released in response.

“It’s okay, let go,” He moaned, hips picking up the pace until everything felt like it had been thrown out of your control entirely. His hold on your throat dropped then, moving to grip your jaw and press your lips back together as you tipped over the edge. It made you understand why it was spoken about so much, why so many people did it regularly, messed with their own emotions for it. You briefly tried to wonder if other people felt so out of control for someone else when they finally reached their high, or if that was just a matter of circumstance, but you felt completely under Mark’s command, like you were nothing but his.

A slightly too painful sensitive feeling was starting to develop when Mark’s hips stuttered to a stop, head dropping back onto your shoulder as he caught his breath. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed before he was pulling out and away from you, making you whine in displeasure, unable to stop yourself the way you had when you were with Mike. You understood that Mark was probably to blame for how out of control and spiralled you felt, how absolutely powerless to stop yourself you were becoming. He was pulling his underwear back on and pressing a soft kiss to your temple, whispering a quick, “I’ll only be a minute.” Before he disappeared from the room.

You still couldn’t do anything but think about Mark and the way he made you feel, because your body was still shaking a little in the aftermath. You weren’t sure if this was a case of Mike being disappointing or Mark just being extremely good anymore, but you honestly couldn’t make yourself care if you wanted to when he re-entered the room. He undid your wrists, making you remember that you should be ashamed of how bare you were in front of him, but he didn’t seem to be bothered as he took both of your wrists into his larger hands. He smothered them both in the cream, turning his head to press it to his shoulder as he yawned, smoothing the cream over your throat and then your thighs. “Turn over for me,” he gently commanded, watching softly as you followed, wincing slightly as the cream made contact with the backs of your thighs. He gave you the water, moving around to the other side of your bed as you drank, slipping himself under the sheets after placing his shirt in front of you. You looked at him for permission before pulling his shirt over your head, liking the way it smelt of him and consumed your body shape entirely.

You flopped back onto your side then, taking to staring at Mark as he stared right back. You thought of all the questions you should ask, all the questions you didn’t ask Mike because you was too scared of the answers. You wondered if you would like any answer Mark gave you, because you were pretty sure you would accept anything he was willing to give you at this point. He reached his hand over to lazily link with yours, and you could feel yourself dropping back from wherever you were earlier. You wanted to ask if he ever dropped back down or if he was always like that, if he was just naturally that type of person. “What do we do now?” You asked dumbly, unsure of whether he would interpret that question the way you wanted him to.

“Sleep,” He groaned, pressing his face into the pillow as he tugged you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist sleepily. You fell into silence again, but it wasn’t long before you heard his voice invade it almost insecurely, “That thing between you and Mike, it’s over, right?”

You hadn’t really thought about where you stood with Mike, but you knew you wanted to stand somewhere further with Mark, and you supposed that answered any questions you had about lingering feelings. “If you want it to be.”

He smiled, closing his eyes again and nodding, “I want it to be.”

#i just realised. mark and mike svbc i'm sorry #i hope this was okay for my first thing :)#nct smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut #nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #kpop smut #writing #s; nct #m; ml #g; smut #g; fluff

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