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"What's your name today?" Comes the first question, asked from directly above him. Hyunjin doesn’t look up.
"I don't have one, Sir."
A hum of approval, and then shiny shoes stepping off to the side of him. Checking his appearance. "And what is your job for this evening?"
He knows his role very well. It has been a topic of discussion for weeks now, and he knows exactly what is and isn’t expected of him. “My job is to be your ashtray, Sir."
“Just for me?”
“For you and your company…” Hyunjin quickly corrects himself, fists tightening in his lap as he rushes to apologize as well. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Jisung hums. He’s quiet for only a moment before speaking again, voice low and sultry. “I suppose I can forgive you this time,” he says with an unmistakable fondness, cupping a hand under Hyunjin’s chin and tilting it upwards. Scanning his face carefully, he brushes a manicured thumb across Hyunjin’s plush, lower lip. “You really did outdo yourself, boy.”
The approval sends instant waves of satisfaction through Hyunjin’s lithe body. He had exfoliated, painted his nails, styled his hair, and did his makeup in preparation for this. So to have his efforts acknowledged feels incredible. Like Jisung will be proud to show him off.
He inhales a deep breath and blinks slowly up at his partner in appreciation. “Thank you. Didn’t want to embarass you, Sir.”
“Well, we'll see if you can keep up with my expectations.” Jisung smiles, a hint of teeth showing through in a way Hyunjin knows means he’s doing well so far. He preens, leaning into the soft touch on his cheek.
The sound of their doorbell ringing is what signals them into action. Jisung straightens his blazer and his spine, giving the simple command of, “Go get into your position while I welcome our guests,” before heading for the front entrance.
Hyunjin nods and obediently lifts himself off the ground, stepping quietly into the lounge and positioning himself by the arm of the sofa that he knows Jisung will occupy shortly. Kneeling on the polished hardwood, hands folded politely in his lap. Stark naked, save for the plain black collar around his neck that showcases his status as owned.
The floor is cold and hard against his skin, but it doesn’t concern him in the slightest. Not when he can hear the sound of Jisung’s laugh coming from just beyond the archway.
“Why don’t you go ahead and prepare our drinks?” Asks a familiar voice as the group of men enter the room, a soft “of course, master” following after it.
Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t be the only sub here tonight, but it still makes him happy to know that not every person attending would be a stranger. He could recognize Minho and Felix’s voices anywhere– he and Felix had been trained together in tea service ages ago and have since become really good friends. He’s just as excited for him to be able to show off his skills and obedience tonight as he is to show his own.
There’s some idle chatting as the men gather and get comfortable in their home, but Hyunjin doesn’t pay much attention to it. It’s not his place to, after all. It does not concern him. He has only one job, and he plans to fulfill it effortlessly.
Jisung, as expected, takes the seat right next to him, and just his presence alone starts putting Hyunjin deeper into his headspace already. He’s calm and confident as he receives his first command, a simple pat on the sofa between him and a particularly buff man. Without lagging for even a moment, Hyunjin crawls over and positions himself on the ground between them. Cups his hands and brings them up to his chest like a little bowl.
The first ashes to hit his skin always catch him off guard, but he never does more than flinch. They barely even hurt him anymore, body used to the sensation from all the previous times he and Jisung have tried this.
He knows he’s covered in tiny scars, deep browns and purples decorating his arms and shoulders almost like a splatter of freckles. But Jisung thinks they’re nothing short of beautiful. An everlasting claim that he has over Hyunjin– a testament to their bond and Hyunjin’s dedication to him. Therefore Hyunjin also thinks they’re beautiful. Thinks he’s beautiful. So much so that he often finds himself counting them in the mirror of his vanity, fingertips brushing across them with adoration. Remembering the story behind each and every one.
Knocked out of his thoughts by a tap to the rim of his hand-bowl, he tries to prepare himself for the all too familiar sting of the first cigarette being snuffed out against his skin. It burns, of course, but it grounds him as well. Brings his focus back to the task at hand.
He hadn’t even noticed how full his hands had gotten of ash, but he sees it now, the pile that has accumulated while he was wandering around in his own mind. There’s a blister already forming on the inside of his wrist, red hot and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It’s a feeling unlike anything he’s ever felt before, a rush of pleasure that makes his cock throb where it lays atop his thighs. And now that it’s started, it seems like the space in time between each burn gets shorter and shorter. Every time his attention snaps forward to remind him of where he is, it’s to the searing hot pain of joints and cigars up close and personal with his body.
It’s mesmerizing, how this makes him feel. Used, yes, but most importantly, useful.
Through the fog settling in his brain, “Open,” he hears Jisung command, simple and offhanded, before he goes back to his conversation. So Hyunjin opens his mouth.
Ashes have never tasted particularly good– he can’t even pretend like they do– and he’s never quite been able to take the pinch out of his eyebrows when they get to this part, but Jisung doesn’t comment on it as he flicks some onto his obediently awaiting tongue. He doesn’t even comment when Hyunjin shifts on his knees to sit straighter, meaning his posture had loosened ever so slightly.
What he does react to, however, is a shaky whimper slipping from Hyunjin’s throat– as soon as the first lit cigarette touches his tongue.
Jisung’s face steels, and Hyunjin can tell he’s made a mistake right away. Gulping, with ashes and saliva sliding down his throat, Hyunjin dares meet Jisung’s dark eyes. He feels wetness in his own lashes. Knows how pitiful he must look.
"Since it seems you've momentarily forgotten, may I remind you–" Jisung leans forward and takes a handful of perfectly styled hair, so tight it aches. Hyunjin doesn't make another sound. "You're not here for pleasure, pretty thing. You're here to entertain me and my guests." He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. So composed and professional despite his disapproving gaze. It’s sexy enough, and he’s humiliated enough, that he feels his mouth start watering. "Do you understand?"
Hyunjin's voice wobbles, and he swallows hard. He doesn’t want to ruin his makeup with tears, but a few slip down his cheeks anyway. "Yes, I understand. I’m sorry, Sir."
"Good." He releases the grip on his hair and takes another deep drag of his cigar. Something fruity smelling.
The smoke burns in his lungs, but nothing compares to the burning he feels peppered all over his torso now that he’s able to truly focus on it. His tongue is on fire, but he opens his mouth again anyway, only letting his eyes flutter shut when the pain shooting through him is particularly potent.
Jisung crosses his legs and casually sips from the tea that Felix brings him, and something deep inside Hyunjin aches for a moment. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here like this, isn’t sure how much longer it’ll take either, but he tells himself over and over that he is good.
He’s good, and he’s going to make sure he doesn’t have another slip up tonight– that, by the end of the night, when Jisung is cleaning his wounds and soothing them with burn cream, he’ll receive tender praise. He preens at the mere thought of it. Can practically hear the deep rumble of Jisung’s voice as he takes care of him, kisses his ash-stained lips and pushes him to his knees to fulfill his other job– that of his personal fleshlight.
It reignites his passion. His desire to be nothing less than perfect for Jisung.
For the rest of their gathering, Hyunjin sits prettily in his place. Eyelashes fluttering and cock leaking all over himself, tears steadily falling down his face, but perfectly silent. Perfectly obedient. Swallowing mouthful after mouthful of ashes, letting dozens of butts be shoved into his now-nestlike hair. He welcomes the burn of his flesh and the laughter of the men around him.
Good until the very end.
And as the last person leaves, as Jisung thanks them for coming and wishes them safe travels, Hyunjin finds himself waiting patiently. Still knelt on the ground where he’d been left, with cigarette butts all around him like some kind of fucked up fairy ring. His knees ache, and his skin feels raw. The sight of Jisung walking up to him, padding across the hardwood in his socks now instead of fancy shoes, has Hyunjin crying in an instant. Tears of joy, this time.
With a soft smile, Jisung slowly sinks to the floor next to him, hitting the ground with a soft thud. He’s quiet for a moment, stroking Hyunjin’s face tenderly, which is clear of any wounds– because Jisung would never allow that– but definitely blotchy from tears and streaked in eyeliner.
“Baby,” Jisung whispers, guiding their eyes to meet. Hyunjin’s are glossy and a little far away, but he still knows that it’s time to let himself go. He falls into Jisung’s arms naturally, sniffling. “You did such a good job for me tonight. Everyone was so impressed.”
Hyunjin hums tiredly, rubbing his face into Jisung’s neck. He doesn’t even think about the soot that he’s undoubtedly smearing all over the both of them. He just knows that Jisung is warm and safe, that he needs to be close to him right now.
“Yeah? You’re proud of me?”
“I’m so proud of you.”
It’s a miracle that Hyunjin makes it to the bathroom, even with Jisung’s help. Stiff and sore all over. But the hot water of the bathtub and Jisung’s loving hands wiping him clean, taking care to be extra careful with each and every burn mark, feel like a little slice of heaven that makes it all feel worth it.
“I’m proud of myself, too,” Hyunjin eventually says, when he’s finally back into his own mind. His throat is raw, scratchy, but he sounds stable.
“Yeah?” Jisung asks, scrubbing his hands through Hyunjin’s long, blonde hair. Scratching at his scalp in little circles like he knows he loves.
“Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t come untouched this time,” Hyunjin teases, turning around to face Jisung to find that he’s just as flushed in the face as Hyunjin feels all over. There’s still shampoo in his hair as he kisses the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t care.
Jisung laughs softly, wrapping both arms around his lover’s waist and dragging him into his lap. Pressing their wet bodies together, feeling full of both love and mischief, he leans in and brushes their lips together once again.
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”