nc17, kyuhyun/yesung, 4121
another kpopfickink request, this time for cop!yesung and begging!kyu. this one seriously got away from me. anon, i hope you like it, even if i got a bit sidetracked. :)
It’s three o’clock in the fucking morning and all Kyuhyun wants to do is drive as fast as he can down a straight stretch of completely deserted road with the softtop down and maybe jerk off when he gets home, but no, he has to pick the one road in the whole goddamned countryside with a cop just waiting to pull over innocent drivers. Well, mostly innocent. It’s not like there’s anyone else around to even see, much less disturb. Fucking cops.
Pulling the car to the curb, Kyuhyun shuts the engine off and yanks his tie loose in annoyance as he rifles through the console for his papers. When he leans back in the seat, license and registration in hand, the flashing lights glaring off the rearview nearly blind him and he startles at the deep voice coming from the officer he hadn’t even seen getting out of the squad car.
“Step out of the car, sir,” the cop says and Kyuhyun turns in surprise only to be greeted by bright white light blasting him in the face.
Squinting, he turns his face to where he expects the cop to be. “Excuse me?” he asks, incredulous. “I know I was speeding but that was all.”
“We’ve had reports of a stolen car in the area matching this description and I notice you don’t have any plates.”
“I just bought it! Two days ago. I’ve got the paperwork right here,” Kyuhyun says, tilting his head to try to get a look at the smug sounding bastard. This guy must really love his job, or just love bossing people around, he thinks.
“‘Drive it like you stole it’ usually only applies to people who have actually stolen something.”
Somehow the jerk keeps getting more and more smug, so Kyuhyun goes to pick up the papers to hand over, because there’s no way he’s getting out of his car in the middle of the night just because some power tripping backwoods cop thinks he can make him. Then all of a sudden he’s flying back into his seat and the cop’s voice is much lower and much closer. There’s a fist gripping the back of his shirt and all Kyuhyun can do is think fucking psychotic cops before his door’s being yanked open and the cop grabs his arms and twists them behind his back.
Kyuhyun is amused that the smarmy asshole is shorter than him until he feels the cold bite of metal on his wrist and low laughter in his ear.
“I wouldn’t make any sudden moves if I were you.”
Jesus, what is wrong with this guy? Kyuhyun thinks, even as his voice sends a shiver down his spine. It’d be just his luck if the cop turned out to be a creepy serial killer or something.
The cop spins Kyuhyun around and he catches himself heavily against the side of his car, hoping like hell the cuffs don’t scratch the paint. With the change in angle and without the light shining straight into his eyes, Kyuhyun finally gets a good look at the jerk harassing him and mentally adds a few more points under the serial killer column. Definitely creepy. And dark. And kinda hot in a very creepy sort of way.
It must be longer than he thought since the last time he got laid.
Bad time to space out there, Kyuhyun, the tiny attentive part of his brain snaps at him. His dick, on the other hand, is starting to paying plenty of attention. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, I bet you’re one of those guys that gets off on it. The speed, the thrill of not getting caught.” The cop smirks, twirling Kyuhyun’s keys around a finger and Kyuhyun’s brain to mouth filter goes on leave for the rest of the night.
“Oh you mean like you getting off on pushing innocent people around?” Kyuhyun snaps back only to find himself under the cop’s careful eye as he visually rakes him up and down as though doing a very thorough strip search. Squirming under the scrutiny, Kyuhyun sidesteps only to find a tight grip around his upper arm.
The guy’s uniform is snug around his upper arms, muscled flexed to keep Kyuhyun in place. He doesn’t think he’s ever been manhandled quite so much in his life, certainly not by a cop, and certainly not so easily. There’s a chance Kyuhyun underestimated the jerk a little.
Instead of an argument, though, he gets a sly smile and a thumb rubbing the sleeve of his dress shirt for such a short moment that Kyuhyun would think he were imagining things if not for the heat seeping through cotton.
“But you see, Kyuhyun,” he says as he closes the car door and pushes Kyuhyun back against it, and god does hearing his name in that dark voice make Kyuhyun’s throat go dry, “the difference between the two of us? I can admit it. And I think you,” he punctuates with a sharp jab to the chest, “you’re just too scared to.”
Swallowing, Kyuhyun shakes his head and glares. “I’m not anything like you at all,” he says, then mutters under his breath, “sick fucker.”
The cop takes a step forward, laughing in the back of his throat, close enough that Kyuhyun can read the brass name tag pinned over his breast pocket. Kim Jongwoon. If that’s even his real name and he hadn’t bought the uniform at some second-rate costume shop. His strength though, the strength and that swagger, the sure and easy way he carries himself, that can’t be bought. And, well, the car.
And no matter how much Kyuhyun wants to think this is one of Heechul’s twisted jokes, the fact of the matter is that this cop has him handcuffed, pissed off, and nearly pinned against the side of his own car. The worst part of it all is that the jerk’s right and he’s going to know just how right in about two seconds if he keeps coming closer.
Fuck there is a gun four inches from Kyuhyun’s dick and he’s pretty damn sure that should not be getting him hard.
“Are you sure about that?” this Jongwoon guy asks, tilting his head as if Kyuhyun were a fascinating specimen to be studied. “Are you really sure?” He pauses long enough to close the space between them and Kyuhyun draws in a ragged gasp at the press of a hard cock against his own. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re lying through your teeth.”
Kyuhyun twists hard, futilely trying to knock Jongwoon off him with his shoulder. The only thing he actually succeeds in doing is getting himself spun around and patted down.
“Watch it, there. Then again, I doubt someone like you would carry a weapon, but it’s always a good idea to be sure.”
“What do you mean, someone like me,” Kyuhyun bites back as he tries not to squirm under Jongwoon’s thorough touch skimming down his sides and up his legs, biting his lips when a hot breath stirs the hairs on the back of his neck.
Jongwoon carefully checks Kyuhyun’s back pockets, close enough that Kyuhyun could curl his fingers in Jongwoon’s starched shirt if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t, not in the least, not even to see if his stomach’s as hard as the rest of him.
“Someone practically begging to have their ass handed to them.”
Finding his back pockets empty, Jongwoon moves to Kyuhyun’s hips, hand sliding easily into deep pockets and Kyuhyun holds still as a statue, breath sucked in as Jongwoon gets nearer and nearer to his dick. He can feel each fingerprint against his thigh, Jongwoon’s thumb dragging along the crease of his leg and torso making his muscles jump.
“You make a lot of— A lot of assumptions, don’t you?”
“My assumptions are usually right,” Jongwoon says, “like how I know if I shoved you to your knees right now you’d be sucking my cock instead of lying with every other word out of that pretty mouth.”
Kyuhyun knows Jongwoon’s just trying to get a rise out of him, provoking him into doing or saying something that’ll land him in jail, but he doesn’t expect him to actually do it, doesn’t expect the push to the back of his knees or the shove that ends with him kneeling in a haphazard sprawl with his ears ringing and his mouth watering.
The curl on Jongwoon’s lips is wicked as he loosens his belt and Kyuhyun can’t make himself move, disbelief freezing him in place when Jongwoon draws his cock through his fly. He gives himself a languid stroke as he steps between Kyuhyun’s knees, then hooks a finger under Kyuhyun’s jaw to force his face up, and Kyuhyun’s senses are filled with the heat of him, the scent of him, the complete and total control Jongwoon has over the warped desire thrumming under his skin.
Kyuhyun’s tongue slips over his lower lip as he opens his mouth and closes his eyes, cheeks stained red with shame and want, both.
To his surprise, Jongwoon eases in slowly with the most indecent moan Kyuhyun’s ever heard and Kyuhyun can’t hold back one of his own, muffled around his mouthful.
“I knew that mouth of yours was going to be fucking fantastic,” Jongwoon grunts between steadily deeper thrusts. “Just taking it like you can’t get enough.”
Jongwoon runs his hand through Kyuhyun’s hair and tangles his fist in it to force Kyuhyun’s head back against his car with a dull noise and a faint burst of pain that Kyuhyun registers as sharp pleasure. Taking a deep breath when Jongwoon pulls out, Kyuhyun closes his eyes in a vague attempt to block out reality that lasts for all of a split second before Jongwoon’s shining that fucking light in his face again like a goddamned spotlight on every dirty and fucked up desire Kyuhyun’s had in his whole life.
His left elbow keeps rubbing against the tire, there’s gravel digging into his right knee, he can’t feel half of his fingers, and his jaw is aching; Kyuhyun thinks he might actually come in his pants if this keeps up for much longer.
“You want it so bad, don’t you? So badly you can’t even admit it.”
Kyuhyun can feel the rush of heat on his cheeks grow hotter as Jongwoon releases his hair in favor of rubbing the head of his cock of Kyuhyun’s slick lips, slipping just in and out as he taunts. “You’re going to wake up tomorrow and look in the mirror and wonder if this was all a dream, and you’ll think maybe it was, until you open your mouth and can’t say a fucking thing because your throat’s been fucked raw because you begged for it.”
There’s a denial on Kyuhyun’s tongue, but he swallows it like he wants to swallow the heavy taste of Jongwoon’s cock. Jongwoon just stands there, jerking himself off slowly, wet noises filling Kyuhyun’s ears as he licks salty lips and tries to remember how to breathe.
“I want…” he starts, so far out of his depth sharks are starting to circle. Jongwoon’s laugh cuts to the bone.
“What do you want, Kyuhyun? Do you want this?” he says, cupping Kyuhyun’s jaw and thrusting into his mouth, once, twice, jerking his hips when Kyuhyun moans around him before he pulls back out.
“Yes, I— Let me.”
“Let you?” Jongwoon asks as he pushes forward again, cock against Kyuhyun’s cheek and right fucking there, just like the gun on Jongwoon’s hip, just like the finger curling over his tongue that he can’t help dragging his teeth over.
“Do it,” Kyuhyun whispers, then moans through the words spilling out of his mouth like a splintered dam crumbling apart, the heat under his skin burning hotter with every syllable that passes his lips. “Do it. Fuck my mouth. Give it to me as hard as you can. Do whatever you want if you think you can live up to that promise.”
Jongwoon clicks off the flashlight and tosses it into the driver’s seat before he slams Kyuhyun’s head back again and then Kyuhyun can’t even breathe, any scant complaints he might have left cut off by the cock stretching his lips. True to his word, Jongwoon doesn’t let up, not even when tears start streaming down Kyuhyun’s cheeks, only slowing down a fraction when Kyuhyun instinctively starts to struggle, handcuffs clanking against the car’s side. The fist in his hair tightens.
Just when Kyuhyun’s throat sticks, uncontrollably gagging around him, only then does Jongwoon pause long enough for Kyuhyun to suck in a breath that turns into a wet cough. Kyuhyun’s vision is swirled red blue white black and Jongwoon and all he can do is gasp, hoarse, “More.”
Jongwoon gives it to him and then some, thrusts getting harder faster and when his mouth is suddenly empty he can’t help but whine. Then Jongwoon’s hand is on his lips, dripping and sticky, and he finally gets it just before Jongwoon grabs his tie and yanks him to his feet with it. Kyuhyun wobbles, feet and legs completely uncooperative, but Jongwoon doesn’t seem to care much beyond shoving Kyuhyun in the direction of the squad car.
Kyuhyun lands hard on the hood and it’s all he can do to not start begging all over again or come right there when Jongwoon pops open his pants and shoves them down his hips. Before he has a chance to say anything, his face is being shoved against the hood and Jongwoon’s leaning over him with a sharp “Stay there.”
Kyuhyun stays, knee propped up on the bumper and cock curved towards his stomach, wet at the tip and almost embarrassingly hard, even after Jongwoon yanks his pants down further, past his knees and off towards the side of the road. He hasn’t the faintest idea where his shoes are and doesn’t particularly care, not when he’s practically spread-eagled on the front end of a cop car with only a shirt, a tie, and a pair of handcuffs to his name.
Crunch, crunch, goes the gravel behind him, and when Kyuhyun turns to look, his movement’s abruptly halted by his own tie drawn taut around his neck, the tail ends of it in Jongwoon’s hand.
The metal of Jongwoon’s belt buckle is cold where it presses into Kyuhyun’s skin, but Jongwoon’s fingers pushing roughly into his hole are more than enough to distract him. Kyuhyun can’t help but yelp at the sudden burning stretch. It’s close to careful, though nowhere near gentle, and it’s only when Jongwoon’s twisting a third one in that Kyuhyun realizes Jongwoon’s using his own come from earlier instead of lube.
Pushing back against him is impossible without sliding off the car so Kyuhyun resorts to straining against the cuffs, shoulder twisted against the still-warm hood of the car as he makes a futile effort to get Jongwoon’s fingers deeper inside him. Jongwoon just laughs that fucking infuriating laugh and curls his fingers down, searching, pressing against a spot that has Kyuhyun losing his balance completely, cry cut off by his tie being tightened hard enough to bruise. Better than a face full of gravel at least and Jongwoon is gracious enough to let him regain his footing before he moves his hand again, flicking his fingertips back and forth until Kyuhyun doesn’t even need the tie to cut off his air any more. He’s panting hard enough to make himself dizzy with want and Jongwoon just keeps teasing.
“You bastard,” Kyuhyun hisses, forehead against the hood. “If you’re going to fuck me just do it already.”
Jongwoon lets go of the tie and the wet sound of his fingers slipping out of Kyuhyun doesn’t quite cover up Kyuhyun’s whine, needier than he’d ever admit, or the sound of a snap coming undone.
“I think you’d let me do anything I wanted to right now, wouldn’t you?” Jongwoon asks unnervingly. There’s the sound of something whooshing through the air leading into the smack of steel against a palm. Kyuhyun’s always been faster than average at putting two and two together.
Jongwoon drags the end of the nightstick up the inside of Kyuhyun’s bare thighs and Kyuhyun gasps in no small terror coupled with a surge of want that surprises himself. He wouldn’t, not here, not like this, he couldn’t Kyuhyun thinks, gulping in air more quickly with every inch the cold, unforgiving bar moves up, knees shaking by the time Jongwoon lets the tip of it skim past his stretched hole. He leans into without thinking, and it earns him a sharp slap across his ass with the nightstick, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and when his spine arches and he cries out wordlessly, Jongwoon does it again, hard enough to make tears spring to Kyuhyun’s eyes.
His moan is more of a sob, a plea for something, anything, then Jongwoon’s spitting into his palm to slick himself up before sliding in. It’s not slick enough, not by a long shot, and he’s so big the stretch of him forces the tears in Kyuhyun’s eyes to roll down his cheeks and smear the dust on the hood of the car.
Even so, Kyuhyun can’t get enough, chest heaving as he takes it all, a high keen caught in the back of his throat and thighs trembling. The first time Jongwoon thrusts deep, it shoves him forward far enough for him to finally, finally get some friction against his own aching cock trapped against his stomach, trailing shirttails maddening against his skin.
Jongwoon laughs again, the one Kyuhyun’s quickly coming to realize means he’s in for trouble, and trouble it is. Grabbing hold of Kyuhyun’s tie, he drags Kyuhyun back, ignoring his complaints with a smirk Kyuhyun can hear clear as a bell in his husky voice.
“You really would. Which is good, because you’re not getting any more choices.”
Fear spikes Kyuhyun’s adrenaline again when he feels the nightstick on his back but Jongwoon’s done teasing this time, showing little care for Kyuhyun as he lays steel across Kyuhyun’s shoulder blades and pins him to the hood of the car, pressing bruises into Kyuhyun’s skin as he starts to fuck him at a ruthless pace. Kyuhyun panics a little inside, completely immobilized and utterly at the mercy of a total stranger, and the only thing he can do is moan for more.
His fists clench, fingertips hooked on the chain between the handcuffs, the steel edges digging into his wrists as he gulps in air between harsh thrusts, lightheaded with it all. Sweat trickles down and around his neck, the sides of his face, making his skin catch on the car hood as Jongwoon pounds into him.
It’s too much, too fast, too hard, but then Jongwoon hitches his hips up and Kyuhyun’s seeing fireworks with every drive forward, groaning shamelessly every time. Before long, Kyuhyun’s gone, overwhelmed and blanking out on pure lust, giving himself up completely to whatever Jongwoon wants to do to him.
As if sensing Kyuhyun’s acquiescence, Jongwoon thrusts even faster, harder, until Kyuhyun’s nearly sobbing for it, the nightstick pinning him even tighter as Jongwoon’s harsh grunts taper into a long sigh and Kyuhyun can feel Jongwoon’s cock throbbing as he spills deep inside him. Kyuhyun clenches around him involuntarily and it’s almost, almost, enough to push Kyuhyun over the edge untouched for the first time since he’d moved past teenaged wet dreams.
A stream of babbled profanities comes flying out of Kyuhyun’s mouth. He’s so fucking hard it hurts, his ass and shoulders and wrists and neck and knees are all sore, and if Jongwoon doesn’t either touch him or uncuff him in the next five seconds he’s going to implode.
The weight on Kyuhyun’s back lets up and he’s ready to do something when Jongwoon pulls out with a groan, leaving Kyuhyun’s ass stretched and stinging, and grabs a hold on Kyuhyun’s shoulder to flip him over onto his back. He’s going to kill Jongwoon, he really is, he thinks, then he finally gets a clear look at the guy— messy hair damp with sweat, fly open with his cock resting against the front of his pants, black eyes almost unnaturally dark and looking at him in a way that makes Kyuhyun want to strike out or beg or both.
“Goddammit, you asshole, do something,” Kyuhyun practically growls, straining with his back unnaturally arched above his cuffed hands. With a foot on the bumper he almost manages to push himself up, but Jongwoon stops him with a knowing smile and the nightstick pressed along the bare skin of Kyuhyun’s hip.
“Did I say you could move yet?” he sing-songs, just breathless enough that Kyuhyun has some sort of gratification.
Jongwoon slides the bar closer, closer, until it’s right alongside Kyuhyun’s cock, foreign and unyielding. “Fuck you,” Kyuhyun spits, aching body betraying him as he gives in to his base need for friction, for touch, for more, hips rolling upwards against the cool metal in desperation.
“But you’re the one begging for it, aren’t you?”
Kyuhyun doesn’t have any more denials left.
“Fuck, then please, I need it.”
Jongwoon’s hands are sure as he readjusts his grip on the nightstick, letting it dig into Kyuhyun’s exposed skin, his other hand reaching between Kyuhyun’s legs to push three fingers inside with no warning, smearing come on the inside of Kyuhyun’s thighs as he pumps them in and out roughly. All Kyuhyun can do is ride the wave, jerking back and forth between cold steel and a deliberate hand, faster and more erratic as pleasure and pain tumble together and shove him towards the edge.
“Yesyesyes—” he breaks off with a loud, high cry when Jongwoon forces in another finger only to twist deep and hard right there and it’s that final push to send him hurtling over, head slamming back onto the hood with a ringing thud and spine bowed nearly taut enough to snap, Jongwoon’s voice low and dirty in his ear.
Somehow he makes it home in one piece. Kyuhyun’s not really sure how, his memories go a little fuzzy after that. He is a little curious as to where, exactly, his underwear ended up though.
The next morning, Kyuhyun takes one look at himself in the mirror and has a minor freak out. One delayed identity crisis and a fucking fantastic jerk-off session later, he gets dressed for work and hopes like hell the collar of his dark shirt covers up most of the marks on his neck. For a moment he considers borrowing the girly-ass concealer his roommate keeps in the bathroom, then realizes that either A. Zhou Mi would kill him for borrowing it without asking B. he would decide that Kyuhyun is now open to the idea of facial products, and C. makeup. Buttoned up it is.
Strangely enough, no one says a word to him about his stiff movements or more smug than usual smile, which is good because he can barely talk and the hoarseness of his own voice leaves him half hard every time he has to speak. Reality kicks in when he meets Ryeowook and Heechul later at the bar, wearing twin smiles of mischief. Kyuhyun mentally sporks whoever it was that introduced the two of them. Then he remembers it was him and sighs, resigned to his fate.
As soon as he sits down, Ryeowook’s smile turns into the one he wears right before he drinks someone under the table while Heechul takes embarrassing photos, then he waves at someone behind Kyuhyun. Half-turning on his barstool, Kyuhyun’s jaw drops a little at the guy Ryeowook’s beaming at. Tight pants, smoky eyes, messy hair—
“Hi,” the guys says, low voice carrying straight down Kyuhyun’s spine even in the crowded bar, “Kim Jongwoon, but my friends call me Yesung.”
“He’s a police officer,” Ryeowook adds helpfully while Heechul just snorts.
Jongwoon’s gaze flicks down to Kyuhyun’s wrists resting on the table, then back to his face. Kyuhyun vaguely recalls something about breathing and air, but Jongwoon’s skimming the sharp edge of Kyuhyun’s shoulder blade with a too-light touch on his way to the chair beside him and Kyuhyun’s brain explodes into a million pieces.
Five minutes of introductions and monosyllabic conversation (on Kyuhyun’s part at least, Ryeowook’s talking a mile a minute) later, Jongwoon excuses himself to the restroom. Kyuhyun lasts almost thirty seconds before following, loosening his tie on the way.