Archive of Our Own

On a Friday night, Wonwoo likes to go to DARL+ING and watch Soonyoung get taken apart on stage.

He has a private table, which is where he sits now, towards the back of the club on a platform that’s slightly elevated. It’s close enough to the bar that he can hear Chan and Mingyu arguing, yet positioned so well that he has a clear view of the stage antics. It’s a small table, just large enough for a few drinks and his phone, tucked into the curve of a leather half-circle bench. It fits a few extra people. Sometimes Jeonghan, sometimes Seungcheol. His friends, his oldest friends.

There’s a lot of floor space. Enough for a boy on his knees.

A big boy.

He can hear Mingyu again. Trays of glasses clinking and clattering as he brings out a clean rack. There’s no commercial kitchen at DARL+ING; with the amount of bodily fluids being tossed around, there’s no way they would clear a health inspection. But the bar is fully stocked and the hum of an industrial dishwasher in the corner of the stockroom is always drowned out by the music.

The bartenders are excellent. It’s not always Mingyu and Chan. Sometimes it’s Seokmin, sometimes Minghao slips behind the polished bartop and whips up drinks as elegant and intoxicating as he is himself. If it’s a special occasion or a night packed with elaborate shows that require the talents of every pack member, Jeonghan might hire outside help.

But tonight it’s Mingyu. And Chan.

His boys.

Chan will be working late. There’s a pretty Omega at the end of the bar that has their hooks into him already, pulling Jeonghan to the side earlier in the evening and asking for his rate. Their shoes tell Wonwoo that the high hourly fee was no barrier to hiring DARL+ING’s burly baby Beta.

He’s not jealous. He’s fine. They've talked about this, and Wonwoo has no issue with his boyfriend (his boyfriend!!!) continuing his sex work career. It’s Chan’s job, and a job he enjoys.

Too much?

Wonwoo huffs, turning his attention from the bickering at the bar and back to the stage. Soonyoung deserves to be focused on. They’re less a performer and more a natural disaster; nobody wants to stare at the videos of the hurricane, but when else will you see something so immense, so forceful, so awesome in its magnitude?

So wet?

Tonight they’re in fine form, astride a padded bench in the middle of the stage, arms bound behind them in long black leather gloves, laced tightly from shoulder to fingertip. The gloves aren’t from Wonwoo’s workbench, but he approves nonetheless - the saddle-stitched seams are holding tight, and the hardware looks to be of top quality.

They are blessedly gagged behind an elaborate mask decorated in orange and black feathers, but that doesn’t stop their mocking whines and moans whenever an audience member gets a question wrong.

It’s trivia night, you see.

Seungkwan is in full Deja Boo, stomping from one end of the stage to another in a little outfit that matches Soonyoung’s mask. He looks like a fancy bird, his hips padded out and his fishnet tights reach from his wide fluffy bustle down to his glittering heels. The corset is Wonwoo’s work, a rare departure from his typically masculine style. But who can resist dressing Itaewon’s premiere drag emcee?

The audience roars as a question is answered correctly, Seungkwan brandishing a bedazzled riding crop in Soonyoung’s direction. Everyone’s favorite genderqueer Omega turbo-slut snarls through their gag, but it quickly morphs into a guttural moan as Seungkwan taps at the remote in his other hand. The plug inside of Soonyoung goes into overdrive, eyes rolling back into their head, narrow hips rocking back and forth on the bench. They’ve been at this for an hour, picking through questions until one team emerges victorious.

The winners get to finish Soonyoung off.

It’s fun - it’s a blast. Wonwoo loves nights at the club like this, with dim lights and the crowd in a good mood. It’s not as messy as the Saturday shows get; he can only take so many bodily fluids before he excuses himself and wanders back across the street to his bed, and his Chan. But this is nice, sitting in his usual booth, watching his dear friend torture his other dear friend, with a drink in his hand.

It’s a fruity drink, in stark contrast to his all black outfit. The grapefruit juice makes it pink and sour, and there’s a shimmery swirly powder in it. He can’t stand those Alphas that feel like it’s their contractual obligation to sit in a dark smoky corner nursing a glass of whiskey, neat. He wants his drink to have shimmers in it.

Chan laughed as he made it, topping it with a puff of pink cotton candy that dissolved in tandem with Wonwoo’s self respect. Chan grinned with every tooth in his head, and Wonwoo tipped him 290k won.

The grip that the boys of the DARL+ING pack have on him should be studied by scientists. Horny scientists. Seokmin in a lab coat.

Wonwoo sinks down against the squeaky leather of the booth. It’s not real leather - real leather doesn’t squeak, it moans. It creaks. It folds like butter and clings to his skin, sticky and humid and smothering in the way that the best leather clubs also smother. DARL+ING might be home to his dearest friends, but his favorite club in Itaewon is a dimly-lit leather bar by the name of LONE RANGER. It’s been in the same place for years, just off the main street and down an alleyway made claustrophobic by stacked apartments on either side.

It’s also owned by Jeonghan’s one and only ex-boyfriend, but they don’t talk about that.

DARL+ING is a polished diamond in the crown of Seoul’s fetish clubs, perfectly placed in a setting well earned. But sometimes Wonwoo wants the dubious anonymity of thickly muscled Alpha bodies pressed together in a room hazy enough with cigar smoke that it threatens to choke you.

It’s also where he likes to go to be choked.

The metaphor is getting away from him.

He can smell Mingyu.

His scent rises above the sickly-sugary-tart of his drink, over the artificial neutral scent pumped into the room by the club’s overworked air conditioning unit. It wars for control over Wonwoo’s senses with Soonyoung’s blooming honeysuckle, ultimately coming out on top due only to Wonwoo’s proximity to the bar.

He’s close enough that he can hear Mingyu behind him, laughing as he talks with a regular patron, an Alpha whose baseball-style jacket is just tight enough to show off her broad shoulders. Wonwoo catches each giggle, each softly lisping syllable. His nostrils flare. He knows what he wants tonight, and it isn’t honeysuckle.

It’s vanilla pods, steeped in bourbon with an ever so slightly spicy note. That’s the scent that lingers, that rises to the top in this otherwise overwhelming cocktail of people, air conditioning, and…well, an actual cocktail.

The show is coming to an end, the winning team unleashing a victorious cheer as they make their way onto the stage. Soonyoung is giggling with exhaustion, eager to be released and manhandled for the rest of the evening. Seungkwan thanks the crowd, walking from left to right and dropping a few more jokes as the clapping fades into talking and laughter. He’s so good at what he does, they all are. And so is Wonwoo.

He stands, draining the rest of his Barbie doll cocktail and straightening the creased black leather of his pants, making sure that the hems break neatly over his boots. His shirt - black - is tucked into the narrow waistband, unbuttoned just enough to show how the end of the thick silver chain around his neck drapes down towards the dusting of dark hair on his stomach.

Mingyu smiles at him as Wonwoo turns around, descending from his little platform and heading towards the bar. Whoever dressed the puppy Alpha tonight deserves a bouquet of flowers and a hand-job, in his opinion. His pants are laced tight around his hips, torso bare save for an exceptionally well tailored harness that stretches from one shoulder to the other. A layer of neoprene lays between his golden skin and the leather straps, protecting his chest from the hardware.

His chest. Wonwoo’s mouth goes dry.

There’s another touch tonight, as there usually is, that makes this beautiful boy stand out from the crowd. A leather crown sits on his head, tipped at a precarious angle and decorated with silver domes and studs. Wonwoo knows his own maker’s mark is stamped on the inside. It was a birthday present.

He wants to take him apart.

“Hey hyung,” Mingyu’s soft voice floats over the bustle of scraping chairs and goodbyes. He’s leaning over the bar, making himself look small and slender in a way that he absolutely is not either of those things. Wonwoo looks down at him through his wire-frame glasses, a curl in his lip and a growl in his throat.

“Plans tonight?”

If Wonwoo wasn’t so attracted to Alphas, he might find himself wishing that Mingyu had a cunt between his strong thighs. Some boys just need to be bred.

Mingyu shakes his head, eyes wide and lips parted. “I’m all yours.”

+++

Wonwoo has been waiting in one of the private rooms for an hour. Mingyu had to help clean up after closing, packing up the bar and carrying the heavy props off stage, stored away until their next debauched appearance.

That’s okay. It’s nice to take his time, to run his hands over each soft furnishing in the room, to down a bottle of water and wash away the taste of cotton candy from his tongue.

DARL+ING really is a thing of beauty, and it’s true that Jeonghan has spared no expense. The private room is well stocked, not just with a strong bed and a tidy bathroom, but also with drawers full of toys and a mini fridge bursting with whatever one might need in order to recover.

It’s a world away from when they started. Wonwoo doesn’t remember exactly when he met Jeonghan (yes he does, but that takes more than a moment’s reminiscing to cover), but it was long before Seungcheol came on the picture, dragging his little Jun-and-Minghao-polycule with him. He knew Jeonghan before he started dancing, before the first iteration of DARL+ING, no more than a single room with a cramped stage and a poor excuse for a bar. That was before Chan. Before Joshua. Before Mingyu.

Mingyu.

Wonwoo sits down on the edge of the bed, pants creaking in the way that every leather fetishist tries to ignore, but secretly admits is so silly. Every member of Jeonghan’s pack is gorgeous and Wonwoo certainly has his favorites, but something about Mingyu makes his jaw ache and his pupils dilate.

(It’s not that much of a mystery. Wonwoo likes Alphas. Loves Alphas. Dreams of knots and cocks and men in dark rooms that smell like liquor or wood. It’s always some kind of liquor or wood. Gay gay, is what Jeonghan called him. Gay on a competitive level. Anyway, Mingyu is the dictionary definition of an Alpha - with the added bonus of being just so submissive.)

(It’s not that much of a mystery.)

The door creaks open at the same time he hears a soft knock, and there he is. Big boy, beautiful boy. Tonight, his boy.

Wonwoo leans back on his outstretched arms, taking in the sight. Mingyu is tall - everyone knows he’s tall - and his exposed skin is the most gorgeous golden tan brown. Wonwoo has a yard of leather at home in the exact same shade, carefully rolled and stashed away for a future project. Maybe something just for him. Something Pygmalion-esque.

He pushes aside the thoughts of a Mingyu sculpted from leather, watching the real thing close the door behind him. At some point after closing the club for the night, seems that Mingyu has changed his outfit. He’s still in the harness and crown, but he’s changed out of his laced pants into a pair of skin-tight chaps, fastened around his waist by a thick belt framed on each side with tight laces. He’s wearing a jock strap. A black jock strap.

A black leather jock strap.

What a good boy.

“Come here, Gyu.”

He does just that, with a soft little whine in the back of his throat. They’ve played this game before and he knows what to do, going to his knees at Wonwoo’s feet, chin tilted up, eyes wide.

Wonwoo takes him by the chin, leather gloves stretched tight across his fingers, supple against Mingyu’s clean shaven jaw. “You look good tonight. You get dressed up just for me?”

He nods, lips swollen, lips wet.

“Yes, hyung.”

“No,” Wonwoo tut-tuts, taking the crown from Mingyu’s head and placing it atop his own. “Sir tonight, puppy.”

Mingyu whines, the muscles of his neck twitching as his scent glands react to his arousal, pumping vanilla and bourbon out into the room. Wonwoo feels his own body respond, his own scent rising, smothering, overwhelming.

“Yes, sir.”

Wonwoo nods, holding back the approval that he knows Mingyu is aching for. He has a praise kink as deep as a well, deeper, filling every void inside of his body and defining who he is. He serves his pack, he yearns to please them, he delights in taking care of the little day-to-day things that exist only to make everyone’s lives a little easier.

“Busy night tonight,” Wonwoo says instead, running his gloved fingers down over his chin, his throat, pressing at the join of his collarbones. Mingyu whimpers, leaning in to the touch.

“Yeah,” he replies, breath catching in his throat. They’ve both been teasing this all evening, from the moment Wonwoo walked in. Stolen glances, lingering touches, a faint lip curl as Mingyu leaned over Wonwoo’s table to clear away his first drink. The tension crackles between them, alight, alive.

Wonwoo twists his hand in Mingyu’s shaggy hair and pushes him down, down onto all fours at his feet. Gyu whines again, caught off-guard and struggling to move back fast enough to accommodate this new position. Wonwoo stays silent as he often does in scenes like this, preferring to physically move his boys to where he wants them.

Mingyu picks up quickly. He looks up from where he balances on his hands and knees, lips parted and pupils wide. Wonwoo gestures down with a jerk of his head, lifting one leg and propping the sole of his boot against Mingyu’s broad shoulder. There is a moment’s hesitation, a drop in Mingyu’s focus as he recognizes the game, and then he starts.

He parts his lips against the toe of the boot, eyes closing. His tongue drags a wet, shining path from the tip to the arch, alternating between licking and rubbing his cheek against the leather. He worships it, rubs his face against it like he would the neck of a pack member, a comparison which is not lost on Wonwoo or his rapidly hardening cock.

He hums a soft note of acknowledgement, all of the praise he is willing to give right now. Mingyu whimpers but doesn’t hesitate in his task, tongue polishing the side of Wonwoo’s boot, as dedicated a puppy as any master could ask for. He moves up, hands still planted firmly on the ground, switching from boot to the long leather expanse of Wonwoo’s pants.

This is where he starts to moan; Mingyu can only have his mouth open for so long before he starts moaning, and mid-shin is usually the tipping point. His breathing becomes harder and heavier, eyes glazing over as his mouth works against the seams and folds. Wonwoo shifts, reaching down to take him by the back of the neck and pull him closer, up onto his knees, leaving enough room to slot his other leg between Mingyu’s thighs.

“Always need something to fuck your big, useless cock against, huh baby,” he chides, and Mingyu answers with yet another pathetic, needling moan. The claws of humiliation are starting to sink into his skin, taking hold of him and pushing him closer to a cushy, floaty state of mind.

Wonwoo tuts. “Go on then.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replies, the words tumbling out in a rush before he forgets how to string a sentence together. His big, broad hips start to move and he fucks himself against Wonwoo’s leg, all the while he licks and cleans and nuzzles his way up a leather-clad thigh. If Mingyu’s enthusiasm for fucking himself against someone’s leg could be converted into energy, Wonwoo thinks the world might dodge any future fuel crisis.

Wonwoo goes on like this for a few minutes longer, enjoying the familiar atmosphere of a quiet dark room, the smell of a desperate alpha, and the creaking of the bed as he adjusts to allow Mingyu closer. He loves their little pantomime of humiliation, knowing that Mingyu can pull back at any point without any fear of punishment and yet he pushes himself forward, frantically seeking hard-won words of praise and affirmation.

“Have you had enough, puppy?” he asks, leaning back on one elbow and pulling Mingyu’s head up with his free hand. Mingyu’s cheeks are pink, his lips swollen and his focus on another planet entirely. He’s miles away. He’s here between Wonwoo’s legs.

“Nno…” he slurs, lips parting again, twisting in Wonwoo’s grip to seek out his fingers, his wrist, any part of him to taste, to rub against. Wonwoo holds him firm, lets him work for it, smiles.

“Hungry? Hungry for what, Gyu?”

Mingyu keens, pulling forward, straining against Wonwoo’s grip as his fingers tighten in his hair. Oh, he wants to give in. Oh he wants to throw Mingyu into the bed and grind into him, pull moans and growls and orgasms from his gorgeous body until they both collapse in a sweaty heap. But Wonwoo has rules, not just for Mingyu but for himself as well, and those rules build the foundations beneath his self control. He has to make him work for it.

“Use your words. Or we’re done.”

Mingyu lets out a most heartbreaking sob, already spread so thin despite their evening only having just begun. It’s a result of their flirtations over the course of the night, Wonwoo feels like he has been drip-feeding him for hours. Or it could just be that Mingyu goes down fast and easy.

“Cock,” he manages to force the word out over swollen lips. “Cock, sir. Yours. I want it. Please.”

“Remarkably coherent, puppy,” Wonwoo relents, but there’s no warmth in it. It’s not the praise he’s looking for.

Mingyu looks like he’s been running down a flight of stairs and missed the bottom step, leaning forward on his knees just a little too far, wanting, needing. The length of time that Wonwoo takes to unbuckle and open his pants is edging into cruelty.

He’s been hard since just before he came down to the private rooms, his cock aching and straining against the hot-to-the-touch leather. Not once has he touched himself, not even shifting to ease the pain of a seam against sensitive skin. It’s the kind of denial of self that he loves, that he’s based a large part of his personality on.

He huffs as he draws his cock out into the cool air, his skin prickling and responding with even more interest. Thick and heavy in his hand, his cock brings with it another heady layer of his scent that’s already thick in the room. He knows he smells earthy, smoky, knows it makes Mingyu’s head spin.

“Go on,” he sighs, leaning back on his elbows, one leg straight and the other bent. Mingyu knows what’s expected of him.

He moves forward too quickly, stumbling and whining as he claws his way up over Wonwoo’s thighs. He’s clumsy when he finally gets his mouth around the head of Wonwoo’s cock, groaning like a parched man finding a flowing spring. Making the softest little whining sound in the back of his throat, satiated, Mingyu gets to work.

Wonwoo closes his eyes, letting himself relax and tipping his head back against the bed. Mingyu is spectacular at this - he’s a professional after all - and wastes no time getting into a satisfying rhythm. He huffs through his nose, leaning down and breathing in as much of Wonwoo’s scent as he can, all the while hollowing his cheeks and suppressing his gag reflex. He takes Wonwoo’s thick cock to the back of his throat and then pulls back once more, head bobbing steadily.

“Good,” Wonwoo says softly, idly, with not enough meaning behind the praise for it to mean a fucking thing. Mingyu keens as he pulls back, pressing wet, pouting lips against the swollen head. His heavy lashes skitter across the tops of his cheeks, those beautiful golden cheeks that flush deep and dark when Wonwoo’s cock pushes back into his mouth with a slick little pop.

There’s no pink in Mingyu. No pink tinge to his cheeks or his ass, his blush is wine-rich, heavy like a shadow he tries to hide behind when he wants more than he can get. There’s no pink cunt tucked behind the curve of his cock, the swell of his balls. He’s no soft Omega, he’s no stocky Beta. He’s all Alpha.

He lets Mingyu rut against him for a little while longer, sneering every time his hips stutter and his rhythm falters. Laughs softly when he gets so overwhelmed, so embarrassed. There hasn’t yet been a towel invented that will be fluffy enough to wrap him in when this is done. There’s a point where this kind of play becomes uncomfortable, when Mingyu’s knees will ache as much as his jaw, when Wonwoo’s ability to control himself is in danger of falling to how brown Mingyu’s eyes look when they’re wet. He stops it before they get there.

“No more,” he growls out, wrapping his fingers in Mingyu’s hair and pulling him back from his cock. The puppy whines, looking up with those big eyes, tears on his lashes threatening to fall. Wonwoo smiles fondly, wiping them away with the pad of his thumb before he tucks his cock back into his pants and fastens them.

“Don’t cry, ‘Gyu. I’ll let you pick out your own cuffs.”

It’s not a gift. It’s the next step in the game he’s been playing with Mingyu all night. This will fluster him, turn his cheeks dark and set his lower lip firmly between his teeth - all of which happens immediately. Mingyu whines softly, getting to his feet without a word and heading for one of the well stocked supply closets. It opens with an ominous creak and Wonwoo watches as he picks through the rows of different restraints, the indecision coming off him in waves.

“Don’t waste time, puppy,” Wonwoo chides gently, removing his glasses and setting them on the table by the door. He pulls his shirt up over his head and unclasps the chain hanging down over his breastbone, folding both neatly and placing them next to his glasses. His watch is next, the loud click of the clasp earning an audible shiver from Mingyu. “I only have you for the night.”

(He likes that, he likes the clever little tease. He and Chan have finally finished moving in across the street - he can have Mingyu whenever he wants him.)

“These, sir?” Mingyu asks, turning around with a pair of simple black cuffs in his hands. His fingertips curl around the leather, holding them at arm’s length like he’s offering Wonwoo his prize possession. Wonwoo doesn’t reply, instead regarding the cuffs with a cool neutrality, one eyebrow raised. Mingyu whines again, on edge, cheeks burning as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He waits for an answer that doesn’t come, and eventually turns back to the closet in unsettled frustration. His back turned, Wonwoo allows himself a character-breaking grin.

It’s not long before he turns again, holding a pair of considerably more heavy-duty cuffs. Each one wraps around the wrist twice before locking with a severe-looking buckle. There’s a loop designed to go over each thumb, keeping the joints safe during potential suspension, but they won’t be using all that tonight. Still, Wonwoo likes the look of them.

He likes it even more when Mingyu stays silent, going to his knees and holding the cuffs up above his head. Cute.

“Good,” Wonwoo says, his praise so sparing that even a single word has Mingyu beaming. The cuffs fasten around his wrists easily enough. “Up, against the wall. Go on.”

Mingyu moves quickly for a man of his size, scrambling to his feet and slapping his shoulders back against the wall beside the bed. He’s exactly where Wonwoo wants him to be - and doubtlessly exactly where Mingyu hoped he would want him - standing beneath a solid steel hook bolted into the wall. Wonwoo nods, following him.

“Are you still ticklish, puppy?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the chain connecting the cuffs and lifting it above Mingyu’s head. Mingyu whimpers a little, nodding, and Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “Is that an answer you’re proud of?”

“Yes!” Mingyu whines, eyes wide. “I mean, no….no, yes, I’m ticklish, you know I’m ticklish…”

Wonwoo nods, looping the chain over the wall hook and trying not to laugh - Mingyu is much too tall for this. Even if he bends his arms and knees, the chain is slack against the hook. Wonwoo smiles and tilts his head, making a mental note to suggest to Jeonghan that they add a little variety in height down here. Oh well, he’ll make do, and Mingyu will be good. He’s always good. Already his arms are bent at the elbows, pulling the slack chain tight, an architect of his own imprisonment.

As Mingyu’s chest heaves and he draws a deep breath, Wonwoo runs his fingertips along the edge of the harness. The neoprene beneath is plastered to Mingyu’s skin, held in place by sweat and friction. His touch is feather light and Mingyu begins to squirm, trapped between Wonwoo’s fingers and the wall.

“Ah…’ he gasps, hips thudding against the wall as he tries to wriggle away and finds himself without an escape route. “Hyung…”

Punishment for the slip comes quickly in the form of a hard slap to his right pec, the leather of Wonwoo’s glove dragging over his nipple. Mingyu whines and whimpers, the chain between his wrists pulling tighter as his knees buckle. It puts him closer to Wonwoo’s height, which he takes advantage of immediately.

“Hyung?” Wonwoo asks, twisting his fingers in Mingyu’s hair and pulling sharply. Mingyu gasps, his mouth falling open.

“Sir! Sir, sir, I’m sorry, sir…” he stammers, lisp coming in strong. Wonwoo fakes a put-upon sigh, leaning in to nuzzle at the curve of his neck.

“Puppy, puppy. I haven’t even really started yet.”

Mingyu’s whimper is devastating, pathetic, and one of Wonwoo’s favorite sounds on the planet. He releases his grip and steps back, returning to his initial plan. His fingertips skate over Mingyu’s torso, down over his sides and across his waist. Mingyu bucks, the leather of his cuffs creaking and the chain rattling. His pleading is wordless babbling, a string of noises that both beg and protest.

“Gyu, Mingyu-yah…” Wonwoo sighs, hands moving towards Mingyu’s exposed armpits, waxed smooth. Mingyu’s eyes widen and he struggles to pull away, knowing full well he could at any point. Wonwoo’s fingers curl and he drags his nails so lightly over sensitive skin, and Mingyu begins to sob.

“Is it too much?” Wonwoo asks, uncomfortably hard himself. Mingyu nods frantically, tears gathering in his eyes and spilling down over his flushed cheeks. Wonwoo clucks his tongue.

“Well, it’s a good thing I know your safeword. Do you?”

Mingyu groans, recognizing the question and choosing keeping his mouth shut. Wonwoo gives him a moment, just long enough to pick himself up, before he continues. His fingers drag along the curve of Mingyu’s bicep, down over his armpit again, leaving him gasping and squirming.

“Such a big boy,” he growls softly, leaning in so that it feels secret, conspiratorial. “Such a strong boy. But you’re so pathetic, aren’t you. All you’ve done since you got here is beg for my cock, fuck yourself against my leg, cry, and squirm. What kind of Alpha are you, Gyu?”

“A g-good one, sir…” he forces the words out, and it takes all of Wonwoo’s considerable self-control to not melt into a puddle on the floor. He is a good Alpha, a good boy. But Wonwoo also knows how far he can take him.

“With this?” he asks, reaching down and cupping the front of Mingyu’s jock strap. The leather is scorching hot, and he can feel his cock throb beneath it. “What kind of an Alpha has a cock that’s too big to make anyone feel good?”

Mingyu lets out a broken moan, fat tears on his cheeks once again. He shakes his head, wordless, unable to defend himself against his most overpowering kink. It’s something they’ve discussed at length in softer settings, with Mingyu’s head in Wonwoo’s lap and the murmur of the pack around them. Wonwoo knows when enough is enough.

“How big is it, Alpha?" Wonwoo asks him, a growl in his voice, a challenge. He feels powerful in his element, his boots firm on steady ground in a way that is hard to find out in the real world. He squeezes Mingyu's cock through the leather. "How big?"

"Big!" Mingyu cries out, bucking into the touch, head thudding back against the wall. "Big, sir, big, you know it is, you like it, it's good, I'm good…"

Wonwoo's resolve melts another inch, He nods and leans in, baring his teeth against Mingyu's neck. "I know, puppy. I know you're good. Take such good care of everyone. Good boy, good boy Mingyu."

The tears start again, falling fresh as the wave of praise hits and Mingyu goes boneless. His knees buckle and the cuffs around his wrists strain to hold his weight. Wonwoo holds him around his waist, pressing him back against the wall as he bites into Mingyu's neck, his growl low and heavy.

"Shh," he rumbles, rubbing his jaw against Mingyu's throat, pressing the high point of his cheek against his scent gland until his breathing starts to even out. "Good boy, my good boy. Good puppy. Calm down."

Mingyu does his best to obey, whining and shaking as Wonwoo pulls back. He goes to his knees before Mingyu has time to fully process it, unlacing the chaps and pulling them free, tossing them to the side. The jockstrap follows in short order, a clasp on either side of Mingyu's hips easily undone. The inside is wet with sweat and precum, a heady mix of scents that makes Wonwoo's teeth ache; he loves Alphas. He loves Alphas.

It's an ironic thing, the severity of Mingyu's humiliation kink, because his cock is beautiful. He's achingly hard, his cock jutting out from his hips, balls drawn tightly up beneath it. It's dark, the head flushed pink and shining wet, twitching helplessly as Wonwoo's breath hits. There's a slight swelling at the base, and Wonwoo realizes just how far he's taken his pup tonight. Time for some relief.

He holds Mingyu's hips back against the wall as he parts his lips, taking the head of his cock into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks around it, tongue pressed up against the underside. Mingyu whines out a string of broken nonsense, his sweat-slick back sliding against the wall as he fights to stay calm, to obey. Wonwoo gives him a little hum of appreciation, and whose fault is it really if the vibrations make Mingyu cry out.

Sucking cock, in Jeon Wonwoo's opinion, is an underappreciated art form. Not in this building, of course, but in general. It takes finesse, it takes practice and restraint and an understanding of technique. It takes a gentleman to give a good blowjob, whereas any maniac can simply go to town on a cock.

No offense to Soonyoung, of course.

But Wonwoo won't be rolling out every trick in his extensive book tonight. He's on probation with the pack as he and Chan date - on thin ice until there are teeth in your neck, Jeonghan so eloquently put it - and so he doesn't want to break such a valuable piece of property just yet. He's pushed Mingyu so far already, and he deserves release.

He takes Mingyu's cock as far as he can (which is impressively far) and works his throat around the head, pressing his tongue against the underside as he moves back and forth. The strained bucking of Mingyu's hips becomes erratic and his breath is starting to catch, and so Wonwoo reaches up and pats him on the abdomen, lets him know that it's time to stop holding on.

Mingyu stammers out a thank you before it's all over. His back arches and Wonwoo has to dig his knees into the floor to keep from being knocked back; there's a shout, a sob, and Mingyu cums hard. It's only through years of practice that Wonwoo manages to not cough all over the both of them, breathing steadily through his nose as he swallows everything Mingyu has to give.

(Which is a lot.)

By the time he stands and wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist - never the gloves - Mingyu is hanging limp from the cuffs. His eyes are half closed and he's breathing heavily, lower lip swollen from his own teeth, trembling. Wonwoo takes his wrists and lifts them slowly, easing his shoulders down and soothing away any wincing or protesting.

"Do you need to stop, Gyu?" he asks gently, unsure if Mingyu can even string a sentence together. His answer is a groggy shake of the head, and then like the well-trained service Alpha he is, Mingyu finds his voice.

"No sir," he says, clearing his throat and looking up through wet lashes. "Not until you're done with me."

Wonwoo pats his cheek, giving him a fond smile before leading him over to the bed. Mingyu can't quite walk under his own power so it's more of a directional stumble, but they make it nonetheless. He eases Mingyu down onto the bed, grabbing his forgotten water from earlier and offering it to him; they both take a moment, reset, refresh, and then Wonwoo takes Mingyu by his handsome jaw and tilts his head up.

"I'm going to fuck you now, okay? Do you want it?"

Mingyu, cheeks flushed, nods frantically. Wonwoo melts a little, only on the inside, but also on the outside because he's still wearing these damned leather pants and it's not the most breathable fetish on the planet. It's a sacrifice he has to make - Linen fetishist just doesn't sound as good. He tosses the empty bottle in the trash and, on his way back to bed, stops by the supply closet one last time. There's something in there that caught his eye earlier and he loops a finger through the strap, holding it up for Mingyu to see.

"You've been such a good puppy, Gyu," he says, swinging the strap around his finger. Mingyu shifts on the bed, naked save for the harness stretched across his chest. His cock twitches its interest, and Wonwoo laughs.

"Yeah. You deserve a treat. Open up."

Mingyu's breath catches in his throat as his lips part, making way for the bright pink bone-shaped gag. Wonwoo watches as he finds a comfortable place for it between his teeth, biting down and testing the give of the rubber. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are hazy again, unfocused, and Wonwoo knows this last little push was the right idea. He buckles the gag snugly behind Mingyu's head and helps him to move up onto the bed, laying down with his arms once again above his head. He manipulates the cuffs quickly enough, unlatching and then re-fastening once they've been looped through the grid of the metal headboard. Wonwoo does love utilitarian kink furniture. He's pretty sure he has this same bed frame.

Mingyu's breath is coming in the low and steady rise of his chest, falling with each exhale. His eyes are closed and he's whining softly every now and then; he's reached the point that Wonwoo has been waiting to guide him to since they exchanged their first glance across the bar tonight. His boy is floating now.

(One thing Wonwoo has noticed since he started, as Chan would say, dating the pack is how much he now savors that feeling. HIS boy is floating now. He's always enjoyed it, always enjoyed what the DARL+ING pack has to offer, but now it means something more. This is his boy. Or at least, will be soon. And he'll be theirs.)

He's going to get such a gold star from his therapist when she hears about this.

"Don't leave without me," he says, standing at the foot of the bed and patting Mingyu on the thigh. Mingyu manages a slow, measured nod and Wonwoo gets to work. He strips without fanfare or performance (he's no Boo Seungkwan), removing his boots, socks, and pants in short order. He'll deal with the cleaning and polishing tomorrow, when Mingyu is satisfied and giggly and cooking up a meal big enough to feed the entire street.

Mingyu has no doubt prepared himself for this but Wonwoo won't take any risks with such a precious boy, slicking two fingers from the extremely convenient pump bottle on the nightstand. What a high-class establishment Yoon Jeonghan is running. He leans on one knee at the foot of the bed, between Mingyu's spread legs, and pushes one finger inside of him.

"Feeling okay, baby?" he asks, waiting for Mingyu to nod and huff through the gag. The puppy bone between his teeth is a gift at this point in the night, not just to have something to press his aching Alpha incisors into, but to no longer have to worry about forming actual words. It won't matter if he calls Wonwoo hyung now, or sir, or please, or oh god more more I need more don't stop please.

He can't not be good now.

Wonwoo rotates his hand a little, adding in a second finger and flexing them as he fucks them in and out. Mingyu's sighs match the rhythm as he rocks his hips back and forth, toes curling, heels digging into the mattress. Satisfied, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and - without a thought for the laundry service the club uses - wipes the excess lube off on the bedding.

"I know you're ready for me, puppy," he growls, both knees on the bed now, finally acknowledging just how incredibly hard he is. An exercise in self control is of course his favorite way to stretch, but enough is enough. His cock aches, it longs for the tight ass of a desperate Alpha, and who is he to further deny himself?

Mingyu bucks as Wonwoo presses the head of his cock against his hole, whimpers and rolls his hips forward in little frantic jerks. Wonwoo agrees that enough is enough and he pushes forward, cautiously, but not wasting any time. The correct term would be impaled. Mingyu's whines increase in both pitch and frequency but his hips still, panting as he adjusts to the familiar feeling of Wonwoo's cock inside of him.

There's not a lot of talking from this point on, no need for more teasing or scolding. Mingyu is good, Mingyu is ready, and Wonwoo fucks into him without hesitation. It's what he deserves. He drags his cock out slowly and pushes back in sharply, Mingyu's hips lifting off the bed each time. His wrists strain against the cuffs once more, pulling hard against the headboard and making it creak. In the listless fog of idle sex thoughts, Wonwoo wonders how many other Alphas have made Mingyu pull at a headboard like that. The thought makes his cock throb, makes him snarl and bare his teeth, makes him wonder if there's video.

"My puppy," he says, hips snapping forward now, chasing an orgasm that he can't believe he denied himself so many times in this very same position. Mingyu is on another planet, letting his head roll from side to side, his body moving independent of thought and need, moving up to meet Wonwoo with every thrust forward. It's not going to take long for either of them, Mingyu's cock is leaking precum over his belly with each wet slap, his chin shining with drool or tears or both. Wonwoo hoists one thickly muscled thigh over his shoulder and pushes in as far as he can, keeping his cock there and rolling his hips, fucking him so so deeply.

Even in this state, Mingyu won't cum until he's told to. Wonwoo's not sure he could if he wanted to, such is the level of Jeonghan's training. And Seokmin's. And Seungcheol's. What a magnificent pack to fill the role of chew toy for. Wonwoo won't deny him any longer, certainly not as he feels his own climax pressing at the small of his back, the dip of his abdomen.

"Okay baby," he manages to spit out, lip curled, hair plastered to his forehead. "Cum for me. Cum for hyung, cum for me…"

Either Mingyu's self control is better than Wonwoo could have imagined, or it's some kind of horny Pavlov situation. It takes barely one-two-three thrusts of Wonwoo's hips until he cums, his gorgeous body drawing tight and then releasing all at once. He arches his back and howls around the gag, eyes screwed shut, cock jerking and splattering cum across his torso. The tightness around Wonwoo comes in rippling waves, clenching down and drawing in and leaving him with no option but to follow Mingyu right over the edge.

So he does.

+++

"Okay, padak for me, and snow cheese for you…"

Wonwoo pops open each takeout container, dividing up the pieces of chicken between two plates and adding in a generous amount of the complimentary pickled radish. Mingyu watches from where he sits on the bed, swaddled in blankets with a towel twisted around his hair, a sports drink cradled in one hand.

"You didn't have to order anything, hyung," he says, voice soft and hoarse. Wonwoo shakes his head, wearing a fluffy white robe and matching slippers. He walks over to the bed, chopsticks and napkins tucked under one arm, and hands Mingyu his plate.

"Don't be silly. Besides, it gave us time to shower."

Mingyu grins, bumping his forehead against Wonwoo's jaw as he takes his plate. "I would have eaten leftovers upstairs with an ass full of cum. It wouldn't be the first time. This week."

Wonwoo snorts, climbing onto the bed next to him. They eat together for a few silent moments, shoulders pressed together, until Mingyu starts to laugh softly. He continues, setting his plate down so as not to cover the bed in powdered cheese, leaning his forehead against Wonwoo's shoulder and snorting.

"What?" Wonwoo grins, straightening his glasses. "What's so funny?"

Mingyu's snorting now, gasping between fits of laughter, his scent breaking warm and playful through the lingering heaviness of Wonwoo's smoky petrichor.

"I started imaging the look on the face of the delivery guy. When you opened the door wearing this." He gestures to Wonwoo's robe and slippers, tugging at the leather crown that is once against sitting atop his head. Wonwoo grins, poking Mingyu with his chopsticks.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I think he's a regular visitor. When I opened the side door he said he was expecting that…how did he put it. Insane twink in a toga and a muzzle."

"That could be anyone…" Mingyu manages to squeak out, before dissolving into another fit of giggles. They both collapse together, pushed into giddiness by exhaustion and overexertion, laughing until their sides hurt and they have to pause so that the rest of their late dinner doesn't go to waste.

Satisfied, Wonwoo leans back against the headboard, still decorated with Mingyu's abandoned cuffs. He takes his phone from the side table, idly turning the screen on and swiping away a handful of notifications. He hasn't heard from Chan, but that's fine. It's a work night, after all. He sends him a quick '❤️', and congratulates himself for not being weird about it.

"Do you want to come stay at the apartment?" he asks, nuzzling the tip of Mingyu's head. He shakes it no, sliding down to lay his cheek on Wonwoo's chest.

"Nah. We already made a mess down here, and I don't want to try and walk across the street. This is good."

Wonwoo nods, pulling up Kakaopay and sending Mingyu a hefty tip - close enough to his usual rate for an overnight scene. Mingyu, recognizing the chime of the app, peers up at the phone and gives a protesting little yelp.

"Hyung! You don't have to do that…you don't have to pay for this. You're family."

"Uh-uh." Wonwoo smiles, kissing Mingyu's forehead and shushing him. "Labor for love is still labor."

Mingyu hmpfs but lets it go, slinging a long arm over Wonwoo's waist and burrowing down into the blankets. He stays like that for long enough that Wonwoo wonders if he's fallen asleep, and then wonders how the hell he's going to get up to brush his teeth. That's when he feels the press of fingertips against his hips, and the flutter of lashes on his stomach.

"I'm really glad you started cumming in me," he says, words heavy from fighting away the urge to sleep. Wonwoo grins, cards his fingers through Mingyu's hair, and leans his head back against the headboard once more.

"Me too, puppy."

+++