Chapter Text
Jisung doesn’t remember being kidnapped. One moment he was partying in a friend of a friend’s house, and the next he was waking up in a room he doesn’t recognize. Which isn’t all that out of the norm, if it weren’t for the bright lights directed towards him, or the—latex?—outfit he doesn’t remember putting on, or the alpha currently growling under him. Because Jisung just woke up on his lap.
“I’m sorry—” Jisung scrambles away from the similarly latex-clad alpha, but he finds that… he can’t. His outfit is decked with leather cuffs on his wrists, ankles, and thighs, that are tied to anchor points in the alpha’s outfit.
He—he’s tied to the alpha.
“It’s useless, Jisungie,” the alpha rasps, and Jisung goes stockstill. He recognizes that voice.
“…Minho?” He asks, unnecessarily, finally daring to look at the alpha’s eyes which he’d tried to avoid after waking up in such close proximity. He knows Minho. The too-handsome-to-be-real alpha that he got introduced to in the party, and who Jisung decided to avoid lest he make a fool of himself while drunk. “What—what’s going on?”
“Fuck if I know,” Minho says. “Do you happen to have a friend who’s into voyeurism?”
“Why do you—” Jisung trails off when he notices them. Cameras, at least four of them, focused on them from different angles. Each with a red dot shining in the otherwise darkness of the room beyond the spotlights.
He begins trembling. This has gone from a prank to something much, much darker.
He renews his efforts to disentangle himself from Minho, but his hands are tied to cuffs on Minho’s shoulders, and his ankles, to the alpha’s knees. Similarly, Minho’s wrists seem to be tied to Jisung’s waist, and his ankles anchored to the floor. It’s useless. He just ends up sliding back down on Minho’s lap. On Minho’s very naked lap.
Jisung’s gasp is drowned by Minho’s curse. “Fuck. Please, Jisung, please don’t move.”
Whatever outfit they dressed them with, its purpose is loud and clear. It covers them from neck to ankle, save for their crotch, and the glands on their wrists and neck. And because of Jisung’s clumsy attempts to disentangle them, because of his wiggling around, Minho is getting hard.
Jisung freezes in place, barely breathing while the alpha is panting, the powerful thighs under Jisung clenching and unclenching. But it’s like a newly discovered itch—once you’re aware of it, you can’t stop feeling it. It’s impossible not to feel hyper aware of the gradual swelling under him, or the way their scents, exposed through their outfit’s openings, is sweetening. Jisung really, really doesn’t want to. But he finds himself getting wet anyway.
He knows the moment Minho smells it on him, how he becomes eerily still, his whole body coiled tight.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispers, twisting his head to the side, hiding where he otherwise can’t.
Minho growls, the sound raising goosebumps on Jisung’s skin before it’s cut short.
“Not your fault,” Minho says in a gruff voice, swallowing with a thick sound. “I’m sorry, too, I’m trying—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Jisung feels the hands tied to his waist moving, as if clenching and unclenching.
The seconds tick by, filled with only their harsh breathing, the heat between their bodies, and their scents sweetly melting into each other. Jisung is no slouch, he keeps up his routine going to the gym. But there’s only so much time he can take keeping himself lifted and away from Minho’s lap before the muscles of his thighs begin shaking.
“Jisung?” Minho asks when he lets out a whimper.
“I’m—mmph!” Jisung begins before he succumbs to gravity, his bare, wet pussy meeting that heavenly hotness beneath him. He’s so turned on, and the ache of his muscles are sending mixed signals to his system, that he can’t help the instinctive grind on Minho’s half hard cock.
He immediately lifts himself up with a gasp, but the damage is done, and Minho grunts as his hips kick up reflexively, his biology seeking that inviting sweet wetness back on him. They both separate with a chorus of ‘sorry’ and pants and quivering muscles. Jisung’s thighs ache, and he soon has to use his grip on Minho’s shoulders to keep himself up.
But he knows it’s just a matter of time. And that the cameras will be there to record every single detail of it.
The next time Jisung’s muscles fail Minho is there, holding him up by his hips and accepting Jisung’s panted thanks against the side of his head. Jisung doesn’t watch, but he feels the strain of the alpha’s muscles as he tries his best to keep Jisung’s body up and away from the unavoidable mistake that’s looming closer and closer in the horizon.
In the end, no one breaks into the recording room to save them from a fate that none of them wants. And when Minho’s arms fail after an extenuous fight against gravity, the angle of their hips is such that his cock notches against Jisung’s cunt, slowly and sweetly impaling the omega as he goes down on his lap.
Jisung is so wound up from the exertion and misplaced arousal that he can barely part his mouth in a silent moan as he tries to take in Minho’s hard length. He’s so big and so perfect, a full body shudder travels through him as he tries to get used to the unwelcome sweet intrusion.
Minho isn’t faring any better, his forehead pressing against Jisung’s shoulder as his body quakes in barely aborted moves.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hips jerk, then shift back down. “Sorry, Jisung, fuck.”
Jisung doesn’t have words to reply to him that it isn’t his fault, that it was his strength that failed first. That he shouldn’t worry because his cock feels really, really good.
He bides his time, waiting until the reverberating echos of pleasure subside, waiting until his muscles stop aching. He doesn’t know how to feel about moving, but it’s the right thing, right?
“Sorry, let me try—” Jisung whispers, lifting himself upwards again.
“Wait, don’t—” Minho warns, but it’s too late.
Because Jisung has lifted himself up to his knees, dragging himself up on Minho’s cock, only to find that their range of movement is so limited and Minho’s cock has swelled so much that not even at this limit is enough to dislodge him. And that the slickness of their juices and their sweat only makes him slip back, sinking once more on Minho’s length.
That seems to do it for Minho.
With a grunt, his hips jolt forward, into Jisung, but this time it’s not a one-off movement. This time his body is kicked into action, the last coil of restraint snapped as instinct takes over the alpha. Jisung cries out as he’s bounced on Minho’s cock, his thighs powerful enough to lift them both as he fucks up into him, again and again.
It’s so fucking wrong but it feels so fucking good. Neither of them want this, and neither of them want to be filmed while their bodies succumb to their baser instincts, but it’s not something they can escape, not like this. Their biology has primed them for the act, and their hind brain just needed to take over. After that, it’s a dance of chasing bodies and voicing their pleasure, all while tied up to each other so there’s no chance of refusing this.
Jisung comes first, undone by the tension and exhaustion and involuntary pleasure. He jolts on Minho’s lap, head craning back as the orgasm rips through him, molten and sweet. The alpha grunts in response to the right heat spasming around him, nose inexorably finding the gland on Jisung’s neck exuding the sweetest of scents after his release. His hips increase the pace even more, until he’s stuttering and grabbing Jisung’s waist to push him down to the base. Until Jisung is taking his knot, rapidly swelling and locking them together.
“Minho!” Jisung cries out, scrambling to push himself away, but it’s too late. He can’t move away from the alpha knot tying then.
Minho takes his time to reply, as if too much into his head after releasing inside Jisung.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He tries to lift Jisung away, but they both hiss at the pain. “I’m so sorry, Jisung, fuck. I wasn’t thinking, my body just—fuck. Sorry. Sorry.”
His voice is shot and wobbly, and Jisung can’t help rubbing his cheek to the side of his head as an offer of comfort.
“It’s not your fault,” he whispers so only Minho can hear. “Whatever happens in here, it’s not your fault.”
Minho breathes harshly, as if he’s just one step away from a meltdown, body rocking back and forth in Jisung’s embrace. Jisung offers his neck with a tilt of his head, and Minho takes it, greedily inhaling his calming scent.
Jisung doesn’t know what will happen to them in this room where they’re the center of attention for the cameras.
But at least he has Minho.
That’s what he tells himself when Minho’s knot goes down. What he repeats internally when they try to shift away, to dislodge Minho’s cock from Jisung’s pussy.
And it’s his mantra when they inevitably fail once more, and the action only makes Minho get hard again, which restarts the cycle all over again.