You're in too deep

Taemin never had any big expectations of when his first time would be. Didn't know how it would be or who it with be with. Probably somewhere between the word 'preparation' and accidentally finding Key's strawberry flavored lube had made Taemin flee, wanting absolutely no part of it. No demonstrations, no questions, and no answers.

But truth and fiction might be more similar than you think. For such an intimate encounter between two people . . . losing your ity . . . or just in general, changes you; it's undeniable. Something about sharing oxygen and spit and other bodily fluids. Something about forgetting yourself and everything around you. Something about giving a part of yourself to someone else. . .

It made Taemin's eyes close. Made his mind drift. 

So now he finds himself somewhere in the void of space and time, but-

Something's wrong. Something's very very wrong.

Taemin knows this only by the goosebumps texturing the skin of his arms and the breath that's stuck in the back of his throat. He's frozen, unable to think or move, but he has to. He has to move, he has to run, he has to make it in time. Before it's too late. Before the door is opened. 

But, ouch. He's in pain, and there's something heavy, warm and alive weighing him down, holding him back . . . keeping him close . . .

"Mmm . . ." 

A mumbled hum . . .deep, slurred, and close, echoes around Taemin's frozen body. It encases him in a soft sense of security, whispers into his ears that everything's ok, and makes him shiver from it's intensity.

And Taemin feels himself being lulled by it's timbre, by it's softness, by it's need. Feels himself forgetting the imminent terror ahead. Ahhh, he can't seem to resist. His eyes begin to close, his body lets the heaviness around his waist sink further into his skin- 

But the door, Taemin! Someone's at the door! 

His eyes snap open. Taemin needs to move, he has too. 

The warning bell is loud, shrill and unwelcome as it resounds in his ears. Yet it reminds him that he's scared, he's afraid of the door. . . of what's behind the door. . .of who's behind the door.

With a curdling cry, he throws off the heaviness, rips himself from the tight grasp around his waist, but . . . to leave his heart. To leave his heart behind him, to leave that voice, that whisper, that . . . strong, burning heat.

Damn. It ing hurts!

He shakes his head, tears glittering in the void as he moves quickly, his feet thumping heavily against the floorboards as deep breaths escape his quivering lips. You can get there, Taemin. You have to get there. Lock it. Don't let him in. Don't let him in!

He exhales. But this pain . . . this excruciating pain, somewhere, deep deep inside. . .it's splitting him, stretching him. . . rubbing him raw. But that heat, that warmth, that . . .

Haaa 

Oh, Taemin pauses, tries to think, tries to remember. 

Ahhh

This pain. This excruciating pain . . . actually . .  feels good, doesn't it? 

But the door Taemin! He's there! Can't you see?!

But Taemin doesn't know, Taemin can't see.

He tries to blink but trips, his foot jutting against an uneven plank of wood. His balance is thrown off, his hands reach out . . .but the warmth is gone, the heat is missing --he's left it behind-- and that damn door is still going to open. Any second now. And he's only falling further.

But you can't afford to fall Taemin!

And suddenly he doesn't, suddenly he's caught. But the hands, the roaming hands that caress the flesh of Taemin's lower back . . . they're invasive . . . touching him, prodding him, savoring him . . . like he's being presented on some pristine platter in the color of milky white and cooked to a medium rare perfection. But he's not edible! He's not dead! And he's not a piece of meat!

He's more than that! Can't you see?!

But Taemin doesn't know, Taemin can't see.

"That's right. . ." says the voice against Taemin's ear. The voice that drips with a cocky arrogance and is laced with something dark and quivering . . . something maniacal, familiar and so so wrong. 

"If I cut you, you'll bleed . . ." 

Taemin's body involuntary shivers. But it's not from need, want or excitement . . . its not warm and heavy and beautiful . . . it's repulsive and absolutely full of hate. So much hate, so much pain.

Taemin shakes his head. Stop it! 

He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, his knuckles going white against the the grip on his waist. He's not real. He's not here yet. Don't be fooled. It's not locked. The door isn't locked. He'll still get in.

Taemin tries to break free. If he can just get to the door in time, this will all be over.

"Don't be so sure . . ." 

Then Taemin realizes. Those hands . . . they're digging into the bones of his wrist, squeezing them together, leaving no room for question or comment or concern. 

Simply, Answer me. Forgive me. Save me.

And Taemin's heart races. His blood runs cold. He can't! He's so close, but his feet can't move, his legs won't carry him, and he can't ing see! He won't make it. It'll be too late. 

And he cries, desperately, but he's too late. It's over. It's all over. He'll get what he wants, he always does. That's why there's blood, so much blood. That's why there's wailing, heart broken wailing . . . and it's so awful! It's so wrong, something is so so wrong.

Taemin covers his ears. Let him be eaten then! Let him be killed! Let him disappear . . .if only to stop what he can see and hear and regret . . .
 

Haaaa 

But what about the pleasure, Taemin? 

Haaaa 

What about him, Taemin?