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"Wookyung?" Minho looked up, the boxcutter in his hand barely pressed into Wookyung's torso. "Changed your mind already?"
"Minho, please..."
'Be gentle,'
'I love you,'
'I'm sorry,'
Wookyung cupped Minho's face in his hands, eyes locked on his lips as he thought about kissing the older man. His body was practically aching for it, begging to taste his sweet, wine-soaked tounge, desprate to run his own tounge along Minho's teeth.
"Minho, please... don't hold back." Wookyung said as he put the rag in his mouth, sucking in a breath, and bracing for the pain.// alternate title: the beginning of Cha Wkokyung's self harm fetish
[10/07/26: Restored to my profile after I orphaned this work]
