[Fic] The Secret Smile (EXO)
Genre: AU, smut, angst
Warnings: rape, mentions of rape, sexual situations
Summary: Chanyeol’s power is too great, and only Baekhyun can calm it.
A/N: The next one is fluffier. ^^
Chanyeol could feel it when it began. The burning. Like the fire that sprung from him would eat him alive. If the phoenix burned to ashes, so would he. When the power began to build, washing over his skin, filling his veins. The pounding of his heart, the straining of his arms against the chains that bound him. Veins standing against his skin, his neck, his hands. Once, they had run to relieve him of his power when he had gotten to that point, when to the roots of his hair he felt on fire.
They had gotten adept at waiting. Toes curling, face grimaced in pain. The flames a sweltering heat over his skin, beading liquid fire that dripped down his chest. Most days they left him to sit, watching him for any signs of the power rising. But when it began, he was forced to stand, arms stretched, because the flame’s heat rose quickly.
Baekhyun had been sitting outside of his cell for hours, waiting with him. Waiting until his captor deemed that to wait any longer would be dangerous. They wished to see Chanyeol to the edge of control, to know when they could use him as a weapon. Baekhyun waited without option, just as Chanyeol waited in pain. And Baekhyun would be the receptacle to receive Chanyeol’s powers, had been for the past months. It was not his choice, to relieve his powers, or to wait. It was not the fucking that drained him, but the touch. But the feel of a person beneath him, the distraction of it, helped to let him calm.
If his veins burned and swelled, it happened all over his body. There was no lust in the exaggerated jut his erection caused through the cloth at his hips, merely his body’s response to the heat and power. But that had been why his captors had thought to bring him slaves, trading him satisfaction for his pain, and for their own safety.
As they dared to wait, his pain grew fuller. Standing there on legs that felt on fire, hard as he had ever been in his life, became torture after several hours.
They had sent him men and women before Baekhyun, before they had discovered that Baekhyun could cool the flames. He had hated it, hated his captors, and sick to think of the slaves. But he could not refuse to accept them. It was his life at stake as the fires raged, and theirs. When he had tried to send the second man away, Chanyeol had been kneeling in pain. And the man who had captured him had told him that the slave would be killed if he failed to calm Chanyeol’s power. And though the slave had still been wary, Chanyeol’s tears had calmed him. They had been the same, then. Neither with a choice.
They had tried the opposite of his element, those imbued with water, ice. Those with fire. They had worked, but only just. Just enough to soothe him for hours, or days.
Light, had been the only thing that had worked. Light, so bright, power itself that could not be burned. And because Baekhyun calmed his power so, sometimes for weeks, they could wait longer, push him further, until the very edges of his soul began to crumple and burn.
And Baekhyun. He had not known Baekhyun’s name until the third, perhaps fourth time. When Baekhyun had been gasping beneath him, scrabbling for hold to keep up with Chanyeol’s thrusts.
“My name is Baekhyun.”
He would not be a nameless, faceless fuck. Some receptacle of power without identity.
Baekhyun, with the silver mark of his power on his hand, and the gold, chained collar at his throat.
“I am Chanyeol.”
And they knew each other, the exchange of names, the meeting of bodies. It had been the first time he had felt true pleasure when he had roared out his completion into Baekhyun’s body. Feeling the heat begin to recede back into him, as though it were being sucked back to some invisible place. It left him shuddering, and Baekhyun had smiled briefly before he had been tugged away. Baekhyun had been half hard and that image had seared Chanyeol deeper than the bird of power branded into his back.
But none deeper than Baekhyun’s cries of pain moments later when Baekhyun had been taken by their captor right in front of him.
Chanyeol’s entire existence centered on the man walking to him. Baekhyun walked to Chanyeol under his own power, no hesitation in him. He wore only a white shift, eyes smokey and darkly lined as some of the slaves were kept. He knelt, licking his lips before Chanyeol’s chains were loosened, and dragged down the edge of the cloth draping that was the only article of clothing Chanyeol was allowed. He hissed, as his cock was released, curving high and tight against his stomach. Throbbing with heat, with power, with pain, and, as Baekhyun bit his lip and looked up at him, with arousal.
Liquid dribbled from the tip, and Baekhyun caught it with his finger, bringing it to his mouth.
Chanyeol shuddered like fire was dripping through his veins, and the chains that held his arms far flung, began to loosen. His shoulders screamed, shackles heavy around his wrists with dragging chains as he bent and reached. Like a hungry man, a dying man. Reaching for the filmy white cloth that hid Baekhyun’s skin, and rending it. It tore like paper under his hands, and Chanyeol was surprised it did not catch aflame. Baekhyun’s skin, milky and smooth. Tipped pink, dark hair between his thighs. And Baekhyun, spreading back in invitation.
They both knew why Baekhyun was there, and that any delays meant more pain for Chanyeol, and possible punishment for Baekhyun.
He knelt and his hands were shaking, sweaty as he grasped Baekhyun’s hips. Trying not to squeeze too tight as Baekhyun squeaked and tried to adjust to help him. He felt as though he were trembling, trapped in a blizzard of fire, sparks dancing in front of his eyes as shards of ice shot up his arms from where he touched Baekhyun.
Baekhyun. Baekhyun. Baekhyun. It had been his litany for hours, Baekhyun too far away to touch. Waiting for him, for the relief of him.
When he felt most like his existence was too much, when he wished they would let the flames consume him, he thought of Baekhyun. His touch, his acceptance.
Salvation. Pleasure. Strength. No fear in those eyes, only challenge.
He was balls-deep before Baekhyun could do anything but gasp. Slick, tight, but ready, prepared for him. And Chanyeol felt as though he had shoved a firebrand into a still, cool lake.
The shock, the intrusion, had Baekhyun keening. He cursed his lack of control. They’d waited too long, the pain searing in his bones, his organs crackling like paper in heat.
“Is there pain?” Chanyeol almost begged for denial.
And Baekhyun told him what could only be the truth. “Little.”
“Do I burn you?” Chanyeol asked, panting. There was some, there was always some pain.
Baekhyun’s head shook back and forth, eyes huge. “You feel only like a man to me.”
And his breath nearly left him like a sob in relief. He was the only one who should burn.
Every exhale felt like an explosion, hot and searing, and Baekhyun’s skin was so soothing. Cool hands sliding along his sweating back, his shoulders, neck, and face. It calmed him, inflamed him.
He could feel Baekhyun’s power shimmering inside him, pure energy. Taking all Chanyeol had to give, converting it, and taking it into himself. Slow was not an option. Slow was death. Baekhyun, protected from the hard stone floor by only thinnest cloth, clutching at him with slick hands, legs wrapped around his waist so that Chanyeol had no reason to pause as he raced to bury himself in Baekhyun’s body over, and over. Feeling the beginnings of relief sweep over his skin like a cool wind.
And Baekhyun moaned - for him - taking pleasure while he also took Chanyeol’s pain. It made his body clutch inside, and the heat from it was that of lust, not agony.
He lowered his face toward Baekhyun’s, knowing he could not reach but needing to try, and Baekhyun’s head snapped to the side. “We can’t,” Baekhyun whispered, trying to meet Chanyeol’s eyes anyway. Can’t. Then Baekhyun’s master had forbidden it. The flames rolled angrily inside him. But he calmed as Baekhyun stroked his neck.
But Baekhyun pulled him closer, as close as he dared with the chains. “I am glad for this.”
Not glad for Chanyeol’s power, but for the slide of their bodies together.
“I am, too,” Chanyeol told him, and the words nearly choked him. He was, and didn’t want to be. But what horrors did Baekhyun face, to be glad to enter a monster’s cage.
“They make me watch your pain,” Baekhyun whispered. “I wish they would not make you wait— Chanyeol.”
Another sob left him, as Baekhyun sighed, and began to shimmer, as flame fueled light.
Baekhyun absorbed him until there was nothing left, just the steady, slow grind of his body into Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun’s glistening neck, his ragged, throaty moans. The touch of his hands was like music against Chanyeol’s skin. He remembered music, barely. And he wanted to stay that way, teasing every sound, feeling Baekhyun buck for him. He had never seen Baekhyun go wild from pleasure, and he needed it.
His time in captivity had taught him to hear the difference between pleasure and pain, between revulsion and need. He knew what Baekhyun wanted. Though he took Baekhyun like a beast, he wanted to know Baekhyun as a lover. To kiss Baekhyun’s mouth and hear him plead for more. To watch wonder spread into Baekhyun’s eyes.
To laugh with him.
His chest spasmed as though he wanted to laugh right then, but the sound was a pleading cry. He’d moved his hand to touch Baekhyun’s face, and the shackle had impeded him, a wide four inches of iron with heavy chain.
And he was reminded that he didn’t know how long they had. He had never been stopped before his body was finished, but that meant nothing. If they wished to see how long his powers were dormant just from touch, they could roll back his chains, force him from Baekhyun’s body, and leave him spread against the wall, hard and aching and unfulfilled, with no way to relieve himself. His only hope would be that his body would calm, else he would be forced to endure swirling heat until they decided otherwise.
It made him shudder, hands planting firm, pulling Baekhyun into him, hips quickening. The flames were receding from his vision, but the heat had all drawn down. Like a muscle tight, and ready to spasm. His head lowered, hoping he had recovered to capture even a smell to carry with him when he was alone again.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun gasped, grasping at his shoulders.
Maybe Baekhyun could feel him shaking. Chanyeol’s whole focus was on Baekhyun’s hips, Baekhyun’s voice ringing hollow in his ears.
For a moment he felt like the monster they told him he was, the growls ripped from his throat as he took. Concern for Baekhyun, gone. His only purpose to rid himself of the unendurable tension, the scorching flames that licked through his belly.
The nails of one hand scratched against the rough stone, the others dug into Baekhyun’s flesh. Bruises would be left, the shape of his fingers. Marking his man, his mate, and the sound that echoed as he came was need for that. Baekhyun. Baekhyun. He took Baekhyun deep and panted at his chest. Every rock of his body making the desperation abate as Baekhyun’s body soothed him. He wanted to cradle his head on Baekhyun’s chest as though it were a snow drift, and bask in his skin, his sweat. To cool the last of the torturing flames that had nothing to do with power, and everything to do with need.
When he opened his eyes, Baekhyun was almost too bright to his eyes. He flung wet hair out of his eyes, to see that Baekhyun was aroused, erect, twitching with every movement of Chanyeol’s slowing, savoring hips.
He could see the trails Baekhyun’s cock had left on his belly from Chanyeol moving him. He weighed his options. Almost as soon as Chanyeol pulled away, Baekhyun would be ordered from him. From him, to the horror that awaited Baekhyun outside. What Baekhyun endured while they were apart, Chanyeol didn’t know.
“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun whispered, when Chanyeol had given into the pain of the thought, his face too tight to bear.
Fuck it. Fuck everyone, their captors, the chains, the pain they endured.
He pulled from Baekhyun’s body, both of them gasping, and fell to his elbows. He couldn’t reach Baekhyun’s face, but he knew what he could do. What he could give Baekhyun.
He would do what he had never done for Baekhyun, or do his best to try. Baekhyun’s hands were on his head, and he knew.
Baekhyun nearly screamed for him, fingers so tight in Chanyeol’s hair, thighs snapping wide. Chanyeol took him deep, moaning at the taste of him. He sucked hard, tongue taking urgent swipes, knowing they had only moments. And Baekhyun’s ragged cries with every bob of his head urged him faster, Baekhyun shaking underneath of him, yanking at Chanyeol’s hair, shaking apart.
For a moment it seemed Baekhyun’s light fluttered and dimmed.
But it never went out.
And Chanyeol drank him, the first touch of liquid to his tongue in weeks, quick and warm. Sucking then to get all he could, chasing what he had missed as Baekhyun moaned.
He glanced up for a moment at the man waiting outside, as though daring him. Let him try, Chanyeol thought. Let him present his serpent’s cock to Chanyeol’s mouth, and find himself without one.
Baekhyun struggled half up, placing his hands over Chanyeol’s at his hips. His face was flushed, mouth temptingly wet and eyes bright. And he wanted nothing less that moment than to kiss him. Feel Baekhyun’s lips part for him, taste his mouth. Everything they had been denied.
His hands lifted, ringing his face, hair falling forward. It hid him for only a moment, so that Baekhyun alone could see him smile. The muscles complained with long disuse, but it felt like freedom, even with the shackles weighing him down. It was the pleasure at what they had done, how much better he felt, how much more human. And it was joy at the pleasure he had brought to Baekhyun. Even as the scorched places inside himself tried to heal, it was emotion he had not felt in far too long.
Baekhyun’s eyes filled with something he could not name, lips curving as though he meant to smile back as Chanyeol soothed his hips.
But before he could, Baekhyun choked, reaching up to grab the collar that was being pulled against his neck. He slid from Chanyeol’s hands, crawling backwards before turning to get up. Answering the urgent tugs against his will, no time even for goodbye. Where Chanyeol would have grabbed him back, folded him close, purged himself of his fears in Baekhyun’s dark hair.
The chain at Baekhyun’s neck was gold, and Baekhyun trotted on bare, soft feet to follow it. Not his own man, owned by the snake of a man who stared at them, every moment. Not out of concern for Baekhyun, or even want of him. Baekhyun cleared the bars, and at a gesture from the man, Chanyeol’s chains went taut, forcing him back against the wall. Forced to stare out as the man touched, took Baekhyun.
He swore, as Baekhyun swallowed pain, avoided his eyes, that one day he would grab the chain that tethered Baekhyun’s neck, and he would sever it. It would become molten metal beneath the flame, and Baekhyun would be free.
But he did not how to free himself.
Chanyeol’s mouth had still been wet when he’d gone, and he’d wanted to taste himself there, hear Chanyeol’s groan rumble for him. Instead, he followed the tug of his chain, his body used and satisfied. He felt strong, as though he could endure anything because of Chanyeol and that secret smile.
“You did well,” his master said, touching Baekhyun’s hip as soon as the bars of Chanyeol’s cell had closed. It was a touch on bare skin, his garb in tatters, and he barely suppressed the shudder. It had been like that every time. Had his master been courageous enough, willing to stoop so low in front of his men, he could have had Chanyeol as well. Chanyeol was no monster, but they left him to become so. In hopes that one day, they could send Chanyeol, when the flames would become uncontrollable, and he would remove their enemies - at the expense of his own life.
His master was jealous of Chanyeol’s power, of his body, of how unattainable he was even if Chanyeol was under his control.
He was jealous of Baekhyun, his own slave under his own orders, for having what he could not, and he forced Baekhyun to kneel.
Having his slave after the monster had had him was the next best thing. Taking what Chanyeol had taken, but never half so well, more horrible than Chanyeol at the height of his agony. And Baekhyun endured the pain, eyes on Chanyeol in his cage, even as his master’s were. But where his master dreamed of using Chanyeol, body and power, Baekhyun dreamed of freedom. He dreamed of the key at his master’s waist, and the locks on Chanyeol’s wrists and ankles.
His skin shuddered with the power that Chanyeol had fed into him. And he knew that day would come. Before all there was left to free were Chanyeol’s ashes.
His pain was gone, the cool, still lake a balm. When his wrists were free, his heart, Baekhyun shone for him.