You have to say yes.
contents: trafficking, captivity, expIicit noncon / dubcon, hypothermia, intimate/affectionate whumper, manipulative whumper, brief emeto mention, brief choking
.....Richard gets a little payoff >:)
October 2019
taglist!!! @yet-another-heathen @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary
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Huddled naked beneath that frustrating chilliness of long-unoccupied sheets, Jian shivered and waited. He still couldn’t feel his face or limbs. All he needed was one more touch, just one uninterrupted minute encased in the blissful cocoon of Dickass Lee’s living arms before he could even begin to think about what he’d just agreed to. Or hadn’t. It was getting fuzzy.
Dickass Lee crawled into the bed with him and Jian dropped the subject from his frostbitten mind, Dickass Lee’s hands running across the icy surface of his skin already making him forget every single one of his fears and pains again. Jian’s body moved without the slightest resistance, following the hot trail of Dickass Lee’s arms to the broad, inviting bare chest that carried them, pulling the man into a deep hug that Dickass Lee then maneuvered easily, pressing Jian onto his back and positioning himself between Jian’s frigid legs.
There was no way Jian had agreed to do this. For a hug? A sad little strangled noise erupted from his throat at the sensation of Dickass Lee’s body pressing lightly between his legs, but the tremors that ran through him were buried by the wild shuddering of his own frozen limbs. The cold outweighed the fear by a long shot, and Jian’s body wouldn’t allow him to twist away, not when Dickass Lee was right on top of him, heat pouring off of every inch of his skin. Jian was already reaching desperately to wrap his arms around the man again when Dickass Lee pulled back to look at him, leaving him with only a light touch on the jaw and a thumb on his lips, letting Jian tremble dejectedly at the promise of warmth held just out of reach.
“Can I kiss you?” Dickass Lee asked. “You have to say yes.”
Jian thought back to the day before, when Dickass Lee had kept his shirt on at Jian’s panic. If the man was willing to make some concessions for his sake, Jian would be stupid not to take full advantage.
“Please,” he breathed, “d-don’t.”
Dickas Lee’s hand shifted ever so slightly from Jian’s jaw and tightened around his throat. Oh. You have to say yes. What a difference that little heaping teaspoon of stress made, the pressure on Jian’s windpipe nearly indistinguishable from reassurance, something soft and stable so subtly wrenched and bent into a monstrous shape in ways that the untrained eye might never catch. Dickass Lee’s hand seemed almost relaxed, but Jian felt the joints steadily constricting with every second he spent in silence.
“Can I kiss you?” Dickass Lee asked again.
“Yes,” Jian whispered through clenched teeth, as quietly as he could, like if he drowned out his voice beneath his own heartbeat, it wouldn’t count as saying anything, not really.
But the man’s face was so incredibly warm against his that for an instant Jian wondered why he’d even tried to refuse. The moment passed when Dickass Lee’s tongue slipped between Jian’s lips, and he had to clench his fists to keep from biting it off.
Jian broke away first, when he lost confidence in his ability to control his teeth anymore.
“Do we have to kiss?” he muttered, turning his face to the side.
“What’s wrong?” Dickass Lee asked quietly, his warm hand caressing Jian’s jawline, his mouth rubbing close against Jian’s bared cheek.
“I don’t like it.”
In reality Jian almost liked it too much. It reminded him of King, and somehow that wasn’t an entirely terrible thing. The mix of danger and softness snaked up into Jian’s brain through his nose like burning incense, taking him back to their warm apartment in Chicago, and he swore Dickass Lee’s hands were starting to feel smaller and rougher, the man’s silhouette shifting in Jian’s mind to someone leaner but just as powerful. When Dickass Lee whispered something in Jian’s ear, he heard King’s sharp voice instead, and he shivered.
Dickass Lee kissed him again and Jian kept his protests shut inside, but he couldn’t help but tense up his shoulders. There were very few places he wouldn't rather be than here, and in bed with King was one of them. For all his aversion to them both, Jian’s mind was still stuck firmly in place between imagining his goddamn ex and perceiving what was actually happening to him, both options equally torturous and inescapable.
But as Dickass Lee’s lips traveled down Jian’s jaw to his neck, the image of King’s body in his place started to glow a little rosier in Jian’s mind. He shut his eyes while the shifting, ambiguous figure on top of him gently, slowly explored which parts of him made him shiver, which ones made him cringe, and which ones did nothing at all.
King already knew. King wouldn’t have had to trace his fingers over Jian’s belly button to know it triggered a flinch that was almost painful. He wouldn’t have wavered, deliberating, over the pulse point below Jian’s jaw before feathering across and drawing out a trembling breath and quiet moan from his unwitting throat. He had already learned how to make Jian’s skin feel like stars, just the right ways to hold him so that he felt safe and adored and in control, how to dunk his heart in glittering silver and let it sparkle with every beat without thought, without hesitation.
In the silence, beneath the light sound of shifting sheets and the soft breathing between the three of them on the bed, Jian heard a hint of a few slow sweet notes rise and fall from the stereo playing downstairs. He recognized the song as a muffled, faraway rendition of “Ballad of the Sad Young Men” by Roberta Flack, one that Jian had come to know recently, could almost sing along to. One that he would never have known at all, had it not been for the man on top of him now.
King wouldn’t have pinned Jian down like this. The clumsy, overbearing body above Jian was none other than Dickass fucking Lee. He couldn’t even pretend otherwise. A crack of disappointment split Jian’s skull in half, sprouting a sharp headache from the fissure.
But mostly Jian felt sick. He couldn’t bear to entertain the thought that he’d been missing King, fantasizing about that fucking asshole. Jian’s heart was made of lead, not silver, and it was thumping hard in his stomach, held there by the distant mournful climax of the song beneath him. He wondered if vomiting all over the bed would earn him any sympathy points, or if he would just be sent back out in the rain to clean himself up.
He didn’t notice that Dickass Lee had been trailing one hand down to Jian’s groin until he was already there.
“Wait wait waitwaitwaitwait,” Jian muttered, shutting his eyes tight and snatching Dickass Lee’s wrist before the man could do anything.
“Jian.” A veiled warning. A vague twist of the arm and Dickass Lee had taken control of Jian’s wrist, pinning it to the side, flat on the mattress.
Jian fluttered his eyes open and stared pleadingly into the man’s face. “No, I’m not saying--” Jian stuttered. It was just too unexpected, too fast. He was trying. “Just hold on a sec.”
The man’s grip loosened on Jian’s wrist, and he slid his fingers all the way up both of Jian’s shuddering arms to gently massage his shoulders. “Relax, Jian,” he said softly. “I’m going to make this easy for you.”
There was nothing that could make this easy, Jian thought, tears rising to his eyes. The lump in his throat brought heat of his own to his face, and the frozen knife that sat in the center of his gut was already starting to thaw, the base survival need that had taken him this far starting to melt away. Soon he would be left with only the suffocating awareness that he’d agreed to this. He avoided Dickass Lee’s eyes.
“It’s not easy,” Jian said, somewhere between a whisper and a sob, heavy with the weight of every cruel hand that had ever met his body, every entitled man who had taken and twisted this one good part of himself and shattered it so completely that he couldn’t even be touched this softly and mindfully without feeling like he’d been doused in gasoline and set on fire, even with the cold still bogging down his limbs.
Dickass Lee laid a gentle hand on Jian’s cheek. “I know, sweetheart. But it will be,” he whispered, a sympathetic twinge in his voice. Jian met his eyes. It’s gonna happen again and again. “Trust me,” Dickass Lee said sweetly as his hand slid from Jian’s neck to his chest and downwards.
It was unbearable. Jian shut his eyes and turned his head firmly to the side as Dickass Lee stroked him to hardness. Fuck, did he really have to do this? Couldn’t the man just break him open and fuck him raw, so Jian didn’t have to endure the pain of undeniable pleasure on top of the violation of it all? He didn’t want this to feel good. The groan that rose from Jian’s tightly clamped jaw only spurred the man on, and soon Jian had to keep himself from bucking his hips up into the man’s hands, jazzy trumpets from downstairs punctuating his efforts.
The sound of a plastic cap popping open made Jian’s entire body twitch on instinct, cold air pooling in his chest.
“Easy,” Dickass Lee reminded him. He spread the lube between the two of them, and Jian couldn’t help but gasp a shuddering breath, only partly out of fear, when the man slid a finger in.
Dickass Lee paused.
“Okay?”
Jian stared at him, no possible responses rising to the smooth, empty surface of the campers’ haunted lake in his mind.
“Okay?” Dickass Lee reiterated, eyebrows raised. Jian tensed for the little flash of pain, that warning grip calling for an overly specific and already decided upon answer, but the man just held him steady and looked into his eyes. He was really asking. A ripple emerged on the calm water. Jian was okay. He nodded, then clung to Dickass Lee’s shoulders as the man slowly, carefully entered him.
It hurt. It had been too long. And not long enough. Jian’s legs jerked involuntarily at the sudden sharp pain and he dug his nails into Dickass Lee’s biceps, hissing a short breath through his teeth, thin air catching in his throat. He groaned quietly, “Ow…”
Dickass Lee stopped where he was. Gave Jian time to breathe. Waited for the clawed grip on his arms to relax before speaking again. “You okay?”
“Mm…” Jian hummed doubtfully, eyes darting around blindly. He didn’t fucking know. Maybe? “Mm-hmm.”
Dickass Lee picked up where he left off, and Jian’s scrambled brain struggled to make sense of the pleasant tugging pressure of the dick inside him, so unbreakingly attributed as the idea was to unthinkable pain and a sickening loss of control. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t hurting. He’d been consulted at every step.
This was a rape like any of the others, like any of the others. Rape. Rape. Rape.
But as Dickass Lee pressed himself in, slowly, watching Jian’s face and adjusting his pace to fit what the furrow of Jian’s brows demanded in the moment, Jian drew a long, shaky, open-mouthed breath and held on tight to Dickass Lee’s arms. No claws this time. A tremble that had nothing to do with any man who had come before this. One careful thrust and Jian was actually hugging Dickass Lee closer, burying his cold nose into the soft crook of the man’s neck, breathing deeply as Dickass Lee started up a gentle rhythm.
Dickass Lee nuzzled him in return, and Jian felt drunk with the warmth they created between them. When Dickass Lee withdrew from Jian’s neck to kiss him, Jian nearly kissed him back. He blinked his glazed eyes wide in surprise and stopped short of doing it, but he had already raised one soft hand to the side of Dickass Lee’s face, another cupping the back of his neck. He actually whimpered into the man’s mouth and slid one leg up behind his back, warmth swiping across his right inner thigh as it passed Dickass Lee’s waist.
Rape rape rape rape rape ra--
A mewling little raspy yelp from high in Jian’s chest interrupted his mantra as Dickass Lee thrust a bit harder into him, and Jian was shocked at how much more embarrassing it was than painful.
“You okay?”
Jian nodded.
Harder. Warm friction and steadily shifting pressure bloomed between Dickass Lee’s lower belly and the sensitive slicked underside of Jian’s dick.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
Harder.
“Okay?”
He nodded. And he nodded. And he nodded. And Dickass Lee wasn’t asking anymore as he sped up but Jian nodded, and nodded, and eventually he was gasping out little affirmative noises and clutching Dickass Lee’s strong shoulders for something other than their warmth. He wrapped his arms tight around Dickass Lee’s neck, drawing the man’s body down closer to his own -- so close, so close, near-desperation growing for just a bit more pressure, there, right there -- and Dickass Lee reached down with one hand to stroke Jian along with every unfaltering burst of red-orange pleasure that he pumped into him. The man nestled his face deep into the crook of Jian’s neck, his skin blazing hot, and didn’t stop.
Jian was-- He was-- No, he didn’t want--
No no no no nonononono.
“Hahh, K-- Rich-- Nnh!”
Eyes swirling among the phantom glimmering fractals on the ceiling, it took Jian a minute to remember he had to breathe, and another to drop the shudder that clung to every exhalation. Another to release his iron grip around Dickass Lee’s neck.
He hadn’t just done that, had he?
Oh my god.
-------
Jian was still shivering the next morning, though he was almost burning up in his fresh dry clothes, his hair still slightly damp from a warm late-night shower. He sat on the edge of the bed with elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching Dickass Lee get dressed and trying to blink away the image of everything beneath those soft khakis and that dark green cardigan. How strong he was, the broad stability of his chest. Every mole and freckle. He couldn’t stop picturing the out-of-season farmer’s tan on his shoulders, faded to near homogeneity, but not quite. Dickass Lee’s eyes met his, and Jian looked away quickly. His stomach grumbled.
“Someone’s hungry,” Dickass Lee said cheerfully. “How’d you feel about pancakes?” He bounced out of the bedroom without waiting for a response. Because of course he wouldn’t. Evil fucking bastard. Jian didn’t move from his seat.
He couldn’t do this forever.
Dickass Lee poked his head back into the room, like he’d just remembered Jian was in there. “Are you coming?”
Did he have to say it like that? Jian rolled his eyes, but he sighed, nodded. Didn’t lift his chin from his palms. Didn’t make any move to stand. He couldn’t imagine eating, but his body had demanded it, after all. And his body seemed to be making all the decisions for him recently. Might as well concede to pancakes as well, while he was at it.
“I want you to speak to me, Jian. Let me hear your lovely voice. Are you coming?”
“Okay,” Jian sighed into his hands, more a whisper than anything.
“Good enough,” Dickass Lee said with a laugh before heading downstairs again.
Could he?