PHANTOM TOUCH, big dragon

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: มังกรกินใหญ่ | Big Dragon the Series (TV)

Relationships: Mangkorn Akira Chitsanupongkul/Yai Alangkan Singhawatthanachok

Characters: Mangkorn Akira Chitsanupongkul,

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, References to Drugs, traumatic memories isn't a tag??, toxic relationship isn't a tag either??, Sexual Fantasy, Light BDSM, kind of a rape fantasy??, but more of a non-con/force kink??

Notes, at the beginning: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED FOR THIS FIC. Originally, this story wasn't going to be overly specific — or focus on the workings of Yai's mind, but I never know when enough is enough... Turns out, I can write some twisted stuff, and this is no exception. This story borders on having a kind of a rape fantasy implanted in it — which is new for me. Generally, I can put the brakes on before it goes too far, but this series is awakening the dark shit I prefer to keep buried and not think about. Essentially, this fic is a bit of a trauma dump.

𝑝ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ — 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛

𝑦𝑎𝑖 𝑥 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑟𝑛

     The ghost of an untamed touch breezes against Yai's skin, making him shiver and pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders, all but glaring at the far wall as hazy memories flicker in his mind's eye. There is still very little clarity to that night, which he partially blames on all the drinks — but he also places blame on Park and Pong fucking up with the drug. Of course he knows. It wasn't all that difficult to figure out why nothing went as planned — after the initial shock wore off and Yai came to grasp some semblance of sanity, sitting on the floor of his trashed bar with his pounding head in his hands, that is.

     At first, there were no memories of the night, remaining hidden behind an impenetrable haze built from alcohol and drugs, but Yai has been recalling flashes of skin and endlessly dark eyes; recalling an oddly comfortable tightness around his throat and a bruising, branding hold on his hips. It makes Yai's stomach churn uncomfortably, not having a clear image of what was done to his body by that...that arrogant man. Yai huffs and rubs his tired eyes, rolling onto his back with instant regret as pain clambers up his spine, hissing a breath out through his teeth as he curses the other man once more, Yai's desire for revenge growing by every slow second that passes.

     Yai wants to tear Mangkorn into shreds for what he dared to do to him. It's almost primal and animalistic, his desire to make the other man beg and plead for forgiveness; his desire to leave Mangkorn in such a tortured state that he never dare show his face around Yai again. The desire to bite down and taste Mangkorn's blood is so overwhelming that it makes Yai feel giddy and lightheaded, lips twisting into a dark smile as his eyes slip closed and he shifts on the bed, sinking further into the comfort of his mattress as he imagines his revenge against the other man.

     Only moments after closing his eyes, Yai swears that he can feel a hand around his wrists, pinning them uselessly to the bed above his head. He swears that he can feel his upper body flush against the mattress, knees bearing down on the bed as his quivering legs struggle to support his weight. A chill rockets down his spine as a phantom hand digs into his hip, the singular reason preventing him from collapsing bodily onto the bed below, and a shaky, whispering moan rises from his throat to escape through parted, bitten lips. Instinct raises its head, Yai's hips rolling in search of the body that he swears is on the bed with him, only to be met with an empty space above and the bed below, and that's when the realisation starts to sink into his skin.

     Yai bites out a curse, forcing his eyes open to stare up at the ceiling with uneasy horror beginning to culminate in his chest. It grows when Yai realises that he has, in fact, placed his hands above his head and gripped the headboard, chest heaving and his legs parted beneath the blanket, knees slightly bent and his hips pressing down into the mattress as if pinned by a large phantom hand. In the haze, the blanket has shifted down and his shirt has slid up, baring the flesh of his stomach to the lukewarm air — and Yai has to convince himself that it most definitely doesn't feel like hot breath against the vulnerable skin. He should not find any of this arousing or tantalising, not even in the slightest of ways, but his body has acted of its own accord; against the remaining sanity within his mind.

     He has submitted to a ghostly memory.

     A tormented groan is ripped from Yai's throat and he throws his head back, muttering colourful curses as his body begins to ache for a burning, untamed touch; to be forced into submission and used for all it can give, and more. He doesn't want to think; he doesn't want to exist; he doesn't want control; he doesn't want to be himself. He just wants to feel; he wants to be at the mercy and whim of someone else for a change. All he wants is to be pushed oh so far past the brink of sane and coherent thought; to be naught but a vessel for submissive pain and pleasure.

     Of all days for this to happen, it just had to be...

     Hips thrusting into empty air, Yai whines and grips the headboard tighter, desperation and arousal rising to quell the remnants of uneasy horror in his chest. He wants those burning, sinful hands to control him; to play him like a puppet on a string one more time. He needs the control to be taken from his grasp; needs the freedom of choice to be locked behind iron bars where he can no longer reach it. Every inch of his body is sparking like a live wire as he writhes on the bed, legs tangling in the sheets as he squeezes his eyes shut and imagines those large hands pinning him down; imagines sinful lips and teeth making an artwork on the bared skin of his stomach, sinking into the muscle and lighting Yai's body up like none have managed to consistently do.

     Yai swears that he can hear Mangkorn's dark laughter as he struggles, and a deep, needy whine is drawn from his throat as the sound echoes in his ears. Hands slipping from the headboard, Yai's nails bury themselves into his palms, the stinging pain grounding him only slightly as he arches his back off the bed, the tendons in his neck pulled taut and his body thrumming with a desire so potent it leaves him struggling to breathe.

     The pressure around his wrists increases and Yai sucks in a sharp breath, hips jerking up in an instinctive thrust, a startled moan leaving his lips as he meets something solid. Eyes peeling open, hazy with arousal and lost in a fantasy, Yai whimpers out a broken rendition of Mangkorn's name when his brain registers that Mangkorn himself is hovering above him, a wicked smile on his lips and his eyes dark with unspoken promises.

     "Go on, keep going," Mangkorn urges, his voice deep and taunting as he shifts slightly, pressing his thigh between Yai's parted legs. "I didn't tell you to stop."

     Yai almost wants to defy him, to growl out a smartass reply and absolutely refuse to comply with the man's taunt; to have Mangkorn force him into taking his own pleasure. He almost does it, the defiant look bubbling away in his eyes, but he's quick to relent when the thigh between his legs presses closer. He's too high-strung to put up much of a fight, especially when he's been given permission to take and take and take until there's nothing but pleasure. They're slow drags along Mangkorn's thigh to begin with, but soon enough Yai is pressing harder and moving faster as desperate moans and breathless pleas are ripped from his bitten lips, head thrown back and his throat ripe for the taking. A dark, strained growl leaves Mangkorn, and that's the only warning Yai gets before there are teeth sinking into the taut muscle at the base of his throat, ripping a purely animalistic sound from Yai.

     He's rutting against the other man's thigh like an animal in heat, spurred on by the teeth burying themselves into his body past the point of drawing blood, whines and whimpering, broken moans constantly streaming from his lips. There's too much heat, his rucked up shirt and boxers clinging to sweat-slicked skin, hair damp against his scalp. Yai feels absolutely filthy beneath Mangkorn, pinned down by one hand upon his wrists as the other bruises his hip, pulling and pushing him harder and harder with each upward thrust against the taller man's thigh. And, by the absolutely feral look on Mangkorn's face as he pulls away from Yai's neck, the shorter man knows that this night is far from being over.

     It hits in a split second, Mangkorn's nails digging into his hip and his thigh pressing harder, Yai's lips parting in a broken, scattered moan as the damn wall breaks down, his orgasm bordering on delightfully painful, and his vision flickering with white. His hips don't stop moving, undulating against the other man's thigh without a sign of slowing, and Yai feels more than hears Mangkorn groan. The hand restraining Yai's wrists slips away and takes hold of his other hip, the heat burning against Yai's skin, and forces him to stop, dragging a whine bordering on pitiful from Yai as he struggles against Mangkorn's bruising hold. Giving in, Yai stops thrusting, instead raising his leg and pressing it between Mangkorn's legs, earning himself a guttural groan as the taller man's hips chase the pressure.

     Yai's breathless chuckle quickly morphs into a squeal as Mangkorn's teeth dig into his left pectoral muscle, back arching and pushing his chest closer to the other man's mouth, hands flying to tightly hold his hair, keeping Mangkorn's sinful mouth against his skin. The taller man laughs slightly, the sound strained as he ruts against the leg Yai keeps pressed between his legs, chasing desire to the very peak, body shuddering as pleasure ignites his nerves and ripples through his muscles. Yai groans in mock complaint as Mangkorn lowers himself atop the shorter male, harsh breaths leaving his lips, Mangkorn's face pressed into the crook of Yai's neck.

     "How long were you watching?" Yai asks, absently running his fingers through Mangkorn's sweaty hair.

     Mangkorn laughs breathlessly. "From the beginning."

     "Asshole. You could have helped."

     "You looked like you were enjoying yourself plenty."

     Yai groans. "Fucker. Get off me, you're heavy, and fucking gross."

     Mangkorn raises his head and shifts his weight, leaning above Yai on his elbows, staring down at him, considering. "Hmm. Fine. Shower?"

     "Hmm. Go on, get off me."

     "So fierce, tiger."