Work Text:
The elevator ride up to Mingyu’s apartment felt endless. Wonwoo stood pressed against the cold mirrored wall, his palms damp, his heart hammering in his chest. He told himself he was only here because Mingyu had told him to come. He told himself he could leave if he wanted. But he didn’t. His whole body burned with the memory of Mingyu’s voice on the phone earlier that evening: low, steady, commanding.
“Come over. You need to learn what happens when you disobey.”
Wonwoo had laughed nervously at the time, but the sound had died in his throat when Mingyu simply ended the call. No explanation, no softness, no room for argument. Just expectation.
Now, standing in front of Mingyu’s door, Wonwoo hesitated. He could hear faint music through the heavy wood, something low and pulsing like a heartbeat. He knocked once, lightly. Immediately, the lock turned.
The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside, neon lights leaking through half‑drawn blinds and cutting pale lines across the hardwood floor. Mingyu’s space was immaculate as always dark furniture, clean surfaces, an atmosphere that pressed down like gravity. He liked control, and it was written in every detail of the place. Wonwoo sat stiffly on the edge of the leather sofa, hands twisted together in his lap, eyes avoiding the tall figure who leaned against the counter and watched him with something sharper than simple amusement.
“Lock the door,” Mingyu said, his voice slow, deliberate. Wonwoo startled but obeyed, the soft click of the lock sounding louder than it should in the heavy silence. When he turned back, Mingyu was already walking toward him, broad shoulders filling the room, steps unhurried but inevitable.
“You know why you’re here,” Mingyu continued, crouching slightly until he was eye level with him. One hand tilted Wonwoo’s chin upward, forcing their gazes to meet. “You asked for punishment. You begged for it. And now you’ll take everything I decide to give you.”
The words made Wonwoo’s breath catch. His body leaned forward instinctively, craving contact even as fear skittered beneath his skin. Mingyu’s thumb dragged slowly across his lower lip before pulling away. He stood, his height towering, and gestured toward the center of the room where the low glass table had already been pushed aside.
“Strip,” Mingyu ordered.
Wonwoo’s fingers trembled as he tugged at his shirt, peeling fabric away from flushed skin. The air of the apartment felt colder now, or maybe it was just anticipation making him shiver. By the time he had pushed his jeans down his legs, he was already hard, embarrassed at how quickly his body betrayed him under Mingyu’s gaze.
Mingyu circled him once, predatory, then returned to stand directly behind him. A cool hand slid up his spine before pressing between his shoulder blades, urging him down onto his knees. The leather under his knees creaked faintly. Mingyu retrieved something from the cabinet drawer ice cubes clinking softly into a glass and set it on the table nearby.
“Hands behind your back.”
Wonwoo obeyed instantly. A snap of leather echoed and his wrists were caught in smooth cuffs, tugged together so he couldn’t move. The restriction made him gasp quietly. Mingyu chuckled low in his throat, leaning down to murmur against his ear, “I like you this way helpless, waiting for me.”
The first shock came sudden: an ice cube dragged down his spine, leaving a wet, stinging trail. Wonwoo arched with a strangled sound, the sensation both cruel and exhilarating. Mingyu’s other hand anchored him by the hip, holding him steady. Slowly, deliberately, he traced the ice across his shoulder blades, down along the dip of his back, pausing long enough for cold water to pool and drip onto the floor.
“Every shiver is mine,” Mingyu whispered, pressing the cube into the curve above his ass until it melted to nothing. Then he was gone for a moment, returning with something smooth and silicone, the unmistakable weight of a toy. Wonwoo swallowed hard, heat spreading through his chest at the thought of what was coming.
Mingyu knelt behind him, letting the head of the toy graze between his thighs but not pushing in yet. Instead he reached for another cube, this time sliding it across Wonwoo’s chest, circling deliberately over a nipple until it pebbled under the temperature. Wonwoo whimpered, squirming against the cuffs, hips bucking forward helplessly. Mingyu rewarded him with a sharp slap to his thigh, the sound cracking through the quiet.
“Still,” Mingyu commanded. “You’ll move only when I allow it.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Wonwoo’s eyes from the intensity, from the overload of cold and heat colliding in his nerves. Then the toy pressed against him properly, slow, unyielding. Mingyu’s patience was merciless he pushed in bit by bit, pausing to let the stretch burn, then withdrawing only to repeat. The rhythm was calculated to unravel him without giving him release.
Wonwoo’s voice broke on a moan. “Please—”
“Please what?” Mingyu’s tone was sharp. He twisted the toy suddenly, earning a cry. “Speak clearly.”
“Please… more,” Wonwoo managed, his cheeks flushed, hair clinging damp to his forehead.
Mingyu rewarded him with a deep push, seating the toy fully inside before pulling it back out again. Then he reached for the glass, taking another cube between his fingers and slipping it cruelly against the swollen skin of Wonwoo’s inner thigh. The cold was unbearable, shocking enough that Wonwoo jerked, only to be yanked back into place by Mingyu’s firm grip.
“You don’t get to escape,” Mingyu said, voice dark with satisfaction. “Not from me.”
Minutes blurred into something heavier, the repetition of ice tracing sensitive places, the unrelenting invasion of the toy, Mingyu’s occasional strikes when Wonwoo faltered. His body shook from cold and heat, from pain and arousal knotted so tightly he couldn’t tell them apart anymore. Every time he begged, Mingyu gave him exactly enough to break him further, never enough to satisfy.
Finally, when Wonwoo’s chest heaved with ragged sobs of pleasure, Mingyu unfastened the cuffs and dragged him roughly onto his lap. Wonwoo clung instinctively, dizzy with need, his body pliant from being used. Mingyu’s hand threaded through his hair, tilting his face up.
“You asked for punishment,” Mingyu said, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “Now you’ll thank me for it.”
And Wonwoo, trembling and desperate, did exactly that, whispering gratitude against the skin of the man who had undone him piece by piece, his voice breaking as Mingyu finally, ruthlessly, gave him what he had been denied all night.