"It's not working."
A single statement has never rang more true than the one barely uttered just now. Who said it? Was it you? Saeran?
Does it even matter anyway?
Simply abstaining isn't the answer for you. For whatever reason pain has become an addiction, a means to normalize you, to give you something to cling to when you don't feel like putting in the effort for much more.
It's a balance between numb and contentment.
It's like the drugs currently pumping their way through your veins.
"It's not." You breathe the words upon a sigh as warmth floods your senses and he helps you to stand fully on your own two feet in wobbly fashion. You didn't ask, would never think to, but you don't stay upright on that shaky stance much longer at all; he hoists you up with a huff, his hold against you is crushing but not uncomfortable by any means.
You mold into every empty space, fitting into the angles of his joints like a missing puzzle piece that has found its home, despite your vocal defiance.
"I'm al-" Your brow ticks when the disciple cuts you off.
"Shut up."
"I can walk...?" Truth be told, you are thoroughly enjoying the warmth of his body and the strength of his grip. You don't want to leave from this spot. You don't want to be that far away from him and the icy heat his presence inspires to dance along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake and a pleasant fog that dulls your brain from the things you'd rather not think about. Of course, some thanks is due in part to the now empty bottle of medicine.
But still, do you deserve to be carried around like a damsel when you damn near broke your promise? No. Your protests are meek, but they are present at least.
"Congratulations." Saeran grunts, headbutting you lightly as he makes his way through the halls on long strides you probably couldn't have matched if you tried your damnedest. "...Just stay still. Let me ...please?"
Something in his voice cracks, giving way to a barely audible whine. He isn't looking at you, sage gaze locked on the path ahead but hell if it doesn't feel like you've been sucker-punched with a pout and puppy-eyes.
It's super effective.
Nodding absently, instead of words, you just rest your temple upon his collar, letting the tiny throb from his joking cranial abuse pull a sigh from your lips as lights flicker between dim and bright, a clear reminder of just how quickly you both are moving.
This isn't so bad, beyond the ever-present guilt, you find relief in the rocking of his rapid steps, the speed in the beat of his heart, the scent you've grown used to, demanding attention from your senses...
Heady.
Purely him.
You let your awareness of it overtake you; embracing you as wholly as the man himself is. Basking, almost dreamily recalling all the memories you've made with Saeran up until now.
Each real smile he'd flash you, the sound of his laugh, the tears he'd try his hardest to hold back when he wakes with a jolt in the middle of the night... His gruff retorts and the way you tease and insult each other in good humor.
The way your stomach flips when there isn't need for words, just companionable silence and expressive stares that do all the talking for you.
Just... Everything.
How could you even think of going back on your agreement to this guy? Just what kind of monster are you?
A low growl that rattles his chest is the only warning you get before he dumps you on to the messy mass of comforter and fluff, breaking you from your inner recollections and you bounce a bit when he joins you, sitting at the edge, still staring holes ahead at the spot in front of him.
"The fuck...!" Honestly, you're baffled. One minute he's squeezing the life out of you, parading through the halls of the mansion, the next he's tossing you away and onto a bed.
You would wriggle your eyebrows at how suggestive that would seem from the outside, but... You guys aren't like that.
Well, not... yet...?
Maybe?
Shit.
By the looks of the conflicted scowl on the disciple's face though, sexy-times are the last thing on the agenda.
"Okay... I know I almost fucked up-" Beyond comprehension, you scramble to give a rather poorly thought-out apology. It's the least you can do, but-
"That's not it." Saeran bites out the reply almost as soon as you start to continue speaking.
"'Kay...?" You wait for the man to continue... To do anything, really, aside from stare at the door as if it were about to start singing terrible renditions of eighties pop.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Dude, what's wrong?" Patience is still not your strong suit. The question spills out almost as if one large word in a single breath and you grip at the blankets puffing into your palms, fidgeting in his silence, waiting as best you can for him to fill it.
His knee is bouncing, the bed is creaking gently amidst the hums of fans and nasally inhales from Saeran. You swat away some errant bangs and resume your abuse of the blankets, hyper-focused on deciphering your comrade's anxious tells.
Mouth moving at a feverish, frustrated pace, though unintelligible whispers are all you are awarded from him as his gaze drops from the entryway's frame into that of his lap. Distressed lines set deep along his brow, the muscle of his jowl prominent when he finally ceases his mumbling; he's gritting his teeth so hard you almost worry he'll crack them.
"I... didn't quite catch that, sorry.~" You attempt to lighten his mood and maybe glean a little insight, but he forces the air from his lungs, irked and defeated.
"WHO?" Barking the question through the curtain of white and fire, he tenses. You flinch a bit at the harshness, but you don't shy away. Instead, you find yourself leaning into the simple word.
Curious at his shift in emotion.
Ready for whatever punishment lies within his tone.
You deserve it, don't you? You were going to punish yourself just moments before, why not just let this happen. Just allow it all.
"What?" So, you egg him on, wanting nothing more than to hear his confusing reasons, whatever they may be. You'll listen to it all, happily.
Especially if it comes from him.
God, why are you like this?
Why do you relish the idea of this man scolding you, putting his hands on you.
Breaking you.
Well... you would have done it yourself... But you promised. You gave him your word. There's got to be another way... This is that way, right?
If it's Saeran, you don't mind. If it's him, he can do what he will. You give him this permission.
He's had this consent since the very beginning, anyway.
"WHO did you talk to today? Who gave you that job?" Starting off a bit intense, the disciple corrects himself, though the rest of his inquiry seemed rocky. You shrug it off as the side effect of the jolt from his knee.
You almost sink into a puddle of your own disappointment. The sanction you momentarily dreamt up is no longer within the horizon, slowly becoming a distant fantasy, fading away out of your greedy clutches instead of seeping into reality as you had... hoped.
"I didn't really catch a name, but they were nice enough... I guess. The guy just gave me something to do like I asked and showed me where to get the knife and bowl and where to put stuff when I was done." Maybe you didn't do as well of a job hiding your displeasure, you sound distracted and a hint bitter, even to yourself.
"Are you going to go back to... HIM... tomorrow?"
Wait... What?
"Huh?" Caught off guard, you are stupefied for a moment, confused by the slow-roasted shade in Saeran's tone. "I mean, if I need to do more kitchen stuff, I suppose... Why?"
"Oh."
"Oh?" What's with the sudden dejection? "Is... Is there something wrong with that?"
"Not a thing." Brushing off again, you see the tiniest tick of his mouth downward, so you push. You feel comfortable enough to with him. He wanted honesty, well, you do too.
"There's something that's bothering you, Saeran... " You don't miss the shudder that rolls down his spine as he relaxes at your soft statement. "Tell me, don't just keep it to yourself."
Heavy and deep he breathes, letting his head fall into the cradle his hands have made.
"I don't like it." It is all but a mere phantom of words, but all your focus is fastened on him. "I don't like it at all, lamb."
What doesn't he like? You have no clue, but you scramble a little to get closer, your fingers tracing circles on his shoulder blades to coax him into divulging more. He needs you now more than you need... That.
"Hmm...?"
"It's supposed to be me. The Savior granted you to me as my charge... I'm supposed to show you what you need to know. I was to be the one to teach you.
Did I fail? Did I fuck up somewhere along the line to make you want to leave me?-" He mumbles a mile a minute and you can't help but feel a little pang. Your hand drops to the tangled bedspreads. Your very soul prickles. "-Don't leave me. Please, don't leave... I hate being alone. I can't be alone again. It's supposed to be me, yeah? The Savior told me so, right? You're mine to teach. I can't fail this. I can't, just tell me what to do... I have to-"
"Was... no...
Am I an obligation to you?" Unfortunately for you yet another moment arises that your mouth works before your brain can process much more and you cut him off before he can continue.
Here this man is, confessing to the feelings he would have bottled up and all you can do is obsess over that one detail.
You really fucking suck. How self-centered of you. Can you just NOT for a second?!
Even though you hate yourself for bringing it up and allowing the question pass your lips, you can't help but be satisfied to be able to get it out there in the first place. Have you ever been able to ask these sort of queries as easy as this? Without build up, without stuttering and blubbering your way through?
No.
Only now. Only with him.
Even if you are only a duty. A mere obligation. A job...
"Damn it, that not it!" Fists form at his head and tufts of fire-tinged hair poke out from between the knuckles as huffs wrack his ribs in fast, labored pumps. " I just... I brought you here. I figured you would stay by MY side... It- I feel empty when you aren't. I get so fucking MAD thinking about someone else taking over my duties to you. God, I hate sharing YOU with the family... And...
And... I fucking HATE that I feel that way!"
Well then... That shut you up.
"Oh..."
Shut you right up, it did.
You feel the heat creep into your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. You still don't like that he's been placed as your mentor as a duty and that you are technically his burden but...
Is...
Is he jealous?
He's so troubled right now, but sweet Jesus, that is kind of adorable... Charming.
No one has ever been jealous over you before. Its a novel feeling, really. So different than being disposable, easily tossed and picked back up again on a whim.
Is... Is this really how he feels? Is this really happening?
His grip gets tighter the longer you don't speak, but the tug against his scalp seems to be helping to keep him from throwing something or punching a wall and you feel a bit envious. You long for that same sense of security; a tinge that keep you zoned into this moment, this reality and you get an idea.
You reach for one of his fists.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
He loosens, allowing you to disentangle his locks and you pull it to your own head, curling your digits around his own and ducking down enough to look straight into his dilated and bewildered stare.
And you force him to pull.
"I'm yours, remember?" His brows knit at your words and sage darts back and forth from your gaze to his fist wrestling a thick silken nest of your hair as it yanks with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Jaw slackening into an adorable 'o,' you move boldly onto his lap, your other hand free to hug the disciple to your chest. "And you... You're mine, right?"
You know it's not right to think this way. People are not objects. He is not a thing.
You...
You're... still quite questionable.
His hand falls slack from his head as he grabs your other; brushing his thumb so gently against your palm before mimicking your actions and making you take hold of his soft tufts. Your eyes lock, a look that you just feel means 'I'll only do this to you if I endure it too' and he grins, giving a sharp little tug that you copy.
"Yeah~?
...Yeah, I guess you're right." His words puff across your collarbone and neck as his grasp loosens, tips soothing your afflicted, prickling scalp before pulling again a different spot, bringing you even closer, the flesh of his cheek hot on your neck, his temple ghosting along your jaw as your scruff cranes back in delicious discomfort.
You arch into him, your clothes rustling together as your thighs circle around his sharp hips, adding that extra little bit of bruising pressure that makes his ministrations that much more heavenly.
You moan, choking to cut it off in embarrassment. If you could blush any harder, now would be the time.
You like this.
A lot.
It was a stretch, you weren't counting on him causing you aches to be this enjoyable. So much the same and yet different when others have put their hands on you. You are allowing it. You instigated it. You feel a sense of intoxicating control, power over this pain. Not quite as extreme as it could be if you were inflicting it on yourself, though.
But hey, two birds, one stone and all that. He is reassured, at least... You definitely don't plan on abandoning him. Could never even fathom such a thought.
A scrumptious shiver rolls down your spine at a pinch of hair near your nape.
God, you definitely call this one a 'win.'
"This- Ahn~" He chuckles breathily at your sounds as you work sloppily to mirror his movements, granted, a bit weaker than his own."-This works."
For now.
It works, for now. But what happens when you need more; more pain than paltry hair-pulling... What then?
You know you'll never be truly satisfied by this... By anything.
You're too selfish.
Fuck it, you just won't think about that right now.
Letting his locks slide through your fingers, your arms intertwine around the man, hugging him close.
"I'll stay by your side." Licking your lips and forcing yourself not to bite them, you give Saeran a squeeze. "If you don't like it, I'll stay here. You don't have to feel like that anymore."
He only sighs in response, sinking deeper into you as you meld into him. Those hands that were busy at your crown now cupping your shoulders tenderly, trailing to loop the small of your back. There's a million different places you could be right now. Some good, some bad, some in between. But this; with him... This is the one you choose.
You don't think you could ever regret the choice you made made all those days -weeks? months? Hell, you aren't sure but it doesn't matter- ago.
Damn right, you'll stay.