A/N: it's epilogue time for each of our boys.
A wrapping up and, let's face it, an excuse for a little kink. Hope you enjoy.
Dae
I didn't want to go to the funeral. Daddy didn't want me to go either. So, at first, it seemed like an easy thing. It wasn't as though there's anyone left there I care about. All my happy memories are so old they're a blur: when Grandfather was still alive, and he would hug me to him and pretend to pull a coin out of my ear. Of my mom before the uppers and the downers took over everything she did. Even my Grandfather's men when I was younger and they would look after me and play games. All of them are long gone.
In the end, it comes down to doing the right thing. Daddy's friend, Weston, asked if we would go and I could speak to Seung. He wants to try and build a case against what he does, and I am all for that.
So far, they haven't been able to get anything on him for the people in the basement, because he has a very good lawyer and was out of the country. All he had to do was deny all knowledge, and he's clever enough that he knows to stick to his claims and deny everything and the police can prove nothing. The men Weston arrested, who were at the house that day, can't help, even if they weren't too afraid to say anything, as Seung has only ever revealed things directly to his closest confidantes, not the grunt men. A clever man.
But he's enraged. Furious. At me, of course, but at the police, too. They kept Chul-moo's body so he couldn't follow the usual funeral processes, and I'm certain Weston did that on purpose. He wants Seung crazed with anger, so he finally does something unguarded and stupid.
I avoid the actual service, so I don't have to see Chul-moo again, in death. I see his picture though, at the house, surrounded by flowers. In it, he looks smug, evil, although I can hear the women talking about how strong and handsome he looks, about what a loss he is, in between their wailing. I'm thankful Seung has chosen the Western method of food offerings in a buffet. I couldn't bear to be forced to sit across from him and eat an entire meal while he fakes emotion as the sangju, or chief mourner. I'm not claiming he isn't genuinely distressed by the death of his son, but everything that man does has an element of control, and nothing is done without purpose.
I'm thankful that it is clear Seung has told very few people what happened to Chul-moo. Instead of the gasps of shock I expect when we arrive, I'm surrounded by grieving women, pulling me to them. I have to weep, if I'm to keep up the effect that will allow me to get closer to Seung without causing a stir, but it feels fake, and I struggle to even make tears fall, though I can wail and bemoan with the best of them. Daddy gets a lot of strange looks, which is to be expected, not only because of his dark skin, but they're wondering who he is to me, why he's by my side. It would have been easier to avoid searching looks by going alone, but I couldn't. I couldn't re-enter this viper's nest without him by my side. He understands, and he doesn't touch me, except to place a soothing hand on my lower back when there's no one to see.
Finally, I make it to Seung, grasping his hands. He has to take mine, if he wants to avoid a scene, and I know he does – the image is all important to him.
"You are a brave little snake, Dae," he says, in Korean.
"Only doing my duty," I lie.
"You take my son from me, and you think you have any place in this household?" he growls, and I embrace the anger he can't help but let free, positioning myself to be sure every word is caught on the wire I'm wearing.
"I know the police told you what he did. Why he died."
"They filled my head with lies. I know my son did nothing to you."
"You know wrong, then. Your son never touched me but against my will, Stepfather. That you allowed that to happen under your nose merely shows how much power he had wrested from you."
"What? How dare you. My son never did anything without my knowledge."
I should be focusing on information that will help Weston, but I can't help it.
"So you were aware he was raping me from the age of sixteen. That he would share me with his men?"
"What?" he says again. "You are a liar, Dae. You always have been."
"No. But you are a foolish old man to have always believed Chul-moo. He would have plotted to over run you."
"He would have done no such thing."
"So you knew he was building contacts outside your own, and was developing the people smuggling, moving into auctions. Selling people as sex slaves?" I get it back onto what Weston needs. The thing is, though I'm baiting him, I do know he has always been aware of that side. Chul-moo only got into that at his father's insistence. The man just didn't want to have a direct contact to that, filthier, side of the business.
He walks right into it. "Of course I knew. Nothing happens in the Yi Family I do not know of, you foolish little boy. Everything Chul-moo did was at my instruction."
I have no idea if it's enough, but I'm sickened enough that it's going to have to be, turning to Daddy just to whisper, "Take me away, please."
After we've dropped the wire off with Weston, we go back to Dexter's apartment, because I don't want to be on my own.
"What do you need, Baby Boy?" He pulls me into a hug, and I know he can see that I need some closeness, but he's being careful, I guess because he doesn't want to trigger something bad in me. I can appreciate that, but right now I want to forget all the bad stuff that used to happen, and will never happen again, not now, and I want him to show me how precious I am to him. Not only something to be used, but somebody to be looked after.
"Can you- can you just be extra Daddy? I don't want to think."
"Okay, Baby. Daddy's in charge. You just remember your safewords – I want to know the moment anything becomes something you don't want. Can you be a good boy for me and promise?"
"Yes Daddy, I promise," I look up into his big, dark eyes, making sure to show how sincere I'm being.
I can feel the concerns and the pressure washing away, as he easily lifts me, taking me into the bedroom, slowly removing my suit, freeing me from the constricting tie, sliding the smooth cotton shirt off my shoulders, while I just stand, allowing him to work. I can see how much he likes taking care of me by the warm little smile and the cute crinkles by his eyes.
He carries me into the beautiful en-suite, gently placing me on the counter while he runs a deep, hot bath, dropping some oils that smell fresh and clean into the water. When he lowers me in, the water is sort of tingly, and I like it. It makes me wake up, and the tingles are touching me in all sorts of intimate places, as he firmly strokes his strong fingers over my shoulders and back, relaxing my tense muscles until I'm laying back, soft and boneless, as he kneels behind me, rolling my nipples in his pinched fingers, making me arch and roll.
Everything's very slow, very relaxed, but I'm getting increasingly riled up, wanting more. I know better than to demand though. I think he'd do something if I asked him to, but I don't want to let the brat out now, I'm enjoying seeing how he chooses what to do next. He's never taken his time like this before. Sure, he plays for hours, sometimes, building me up and watching me crash over and over again, using my body, instructing me, but there's demand in that, where this is soothing, gentle, even loving. I'm not desperate yet, because right now the feeling of him caring for me, and about me, is worth more than even an orgasm.
So I don't fight anything when he lifts me out and carefully dries me, before carrying me to the bed, laying me on my front.
"You're being so good for me, Baby. I'm going to massage you now," and I don't even comment on how he already gave me an amazing massage in the bath, that's how relaxed I am. "But first..."
He leaves for a moment, where I can't see him, but I don't twist my head. I trust whatever he's doing, so I ignore the sound of a drawer opening, and I even mainly ignore the unmistakable snick of a bottle of lube opening, even if it does make a delicious heat roll into my belly. He opens my thighs wider, and his finger slides over my opening a few times, slick and moist. He finally breaches, just as my breathing is building into needy little whimpers, and he carefully twists his finger, lightly stretching the muscle but not going deeper, even when he adds a second finger.
"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing. Stretching your tight hole but not your eager little passage. Something else will do that for me." There's a promise in his voice, and then I feel something else, something hard and cool, something uncompromising as he places it, and then applies a constant pressure. It feels big, stretching me wider than his fingers, but he's moving so slowly I know he won't hurt me, and I breathe long, deep breaths as it widens, almost enough that I think it might be too much if it keeps getting wider, but just as I whine in almost-discomfort, the widest point is in, and it's sucked inside me, and I realize it's a plug, feeling the safety of the wide base as my hole reacts to the narrowest point, spasming lightly as I become used to the intrusion.
I can feel it continuously while Daddy starts to massage my back. He chose one big enough that it's a constant pressure, pushing against my insides every time I'm jostled slightly by his careful movements, and I can tell my the warm chuckles that he knows exactly how affected I'm getting.
"You are being so good for me, Beautiful. You have no idea how fucking pretty you look right now, wriggling under my hands, getting more and more worked up for me."
I love it when he talks to me, always telling me how good I am, except when I'm being a brat, of course, but even then he grins when he's telling me off.
When I'm feeling like a puddle of goo, he rolls me over onto my back, and I gasp at the feeling. I think I'm finally going to get the hard fuck I've been aching for since we started, but he just watches me, his head tilted and a sweet smile on his lips.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Beautiful?"
"Uh...are you gonna...?"
"You want me to?"
"Well, yeah."
"Cheeky," he chuckles, running his thumb over my cheekbone. "I'm not."
"You're not?" I try to sit up, but the plug presses straight into my prostate and I yelp, falling back.
"I'm deciding."
"Deciding what?"
"Between making you come over and over again and not letting you come at all, until you're begging and desperate. Which would you prefer?"
I whine. Is it a trick? Will he do the thing I don't want most? I'm not being punished, but he does sometimes talk about pushing me some.
"Which do you want, Daddy?"
"Oh, Baby Boy, I want both, but I have to pick one for now. How are you feeling?"
"Good, but I want-,"
"Oh, I know, Baby," his eyes go really dark, and I suck in a breath. "If you feel good, then it would seem a good time to train you on control."
I know what that means. He's not going to let me come. Sad face. Except, Ellis did tell me it can be pretty epic when you're finally allowed.
"What are you thinking?" Daddy asks.
"Am I- can I have, you know, rules?"
"Sure you can. It's the same as limits. Anything you know you don't want, I won't do."
"Okay. Well, right now, I don't want you to stop me, like, forever?"
"Forever?"
"You know, teasing me and then telling me I can come in a few days."
"I won't do that. I know you wouldn't get off on me taking your control in that way. Besides, that's denial, and you know I can't deny you anything. Today, I just want to edge you for a while. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, Daddy."
He leans down to kiss me, stealing my breath and owning my mouth until I'm trying to grind up against his strong body, but his hands are pressing on my hips, keeping me connected to the soft sheets of the bed. Then he leaves my mouth, kissing down my body, murmuring nice things about my skin, and how responsive my nipples are, and how pretty I am, making me blush and wriggle for whole new reasons, though he still has me pinned. I love how easily he can do that, because I've never felt it where it feels so safe to have someone who can control so easily, and maybe it's because I know he'd never abuse that.
When he takes my cock into his mouth, I almost manage to dislodge his hands with how hard I buck, but he still has me, rolling his thumbs over my hipbones as he swallows me down. I don't normally, but knowing he wants to edge me for a while, I actually try to stop myself from coming, though all tensing my muscles does is make the plug shift inside me.
"Daddy," I whine, and he swirls his tongue, which I'm certain will send me over the edge, except he does this squeeze at the same time, at the base, which almost hurts, but somehow doesn't, and the desperate urge fades a little, until he starts using his hand instead, his long fingers playing, and rubbing all the most sensitive parts, until I'm whining his name again and, again, he stops me.
I lose count of how many times I think there's no way I can stop but Daddy makes me. Five? Maybe six? It's a strange feeling, building and twisting, every muscle clenching and then, gone. Or faded at least, for a moment, till the build starts again, faster each time. I think I'm crying, though I don't care – the feelings are just so overwhelming, the stolen pleasure, but the whole time I'm being cared for, Daddy's hands gently caressing, his lips murmuring and loving on me.
"I think you're done, Baby," he purrs, and I gasp, thinking he's leaving me this way, panting and needy, but he chuckles, a soft, warm sound, and mouths at my hip as he twists and draws the plug away. I'm a little sore from the unyielding pressure that's been inside me, but I still want him, try to grab at him. There's that laugh again.
"No, Baby. This is all for you. Want to watch you fall off the edge now, whenever you're ready." And he slides two fingers in to me, just feeling, tenderly stroking my heated insides, his mouth suckling, tickling on the very end of my cock, until he draws the pads of his fingertips back, over my special spot, and I'm losing it, without even the strength to react with my body, just letting it flow, barely keeping my eyes open enough to watch him drink me down with a secret, loving smile on his face.