“You should eat something,” Woobin said, chewing on his own share of bread as he glanced at his captive.  As the sun set outside the windows, the soft glow of dusk settled into the room and cast a beautiful color over Jongsuk’s still body.  Woobin gazed at the gentle rise and fall of the pilot’s chest as the latter frowned at him.

“I could if you released me,” Jongsuk replied, clinking his cuffs against the railing, “How do you expect me to eat like this?” 

Wagging a finger at him, Woobin shook his head and took a swig of his water.  “That’d be too easy,” he said, shifting his weight in bed so that he sat cross-legged on the bed facing Jongsuk, “I offered to feed you.”

“I’d rather starve then,” Jongsuk snorted, looking away towards the windows. 

Shrugging, Woobin wolfed down the last of his bread before taking another swig of water.  He had hoped he could tempt the stubborn pilot into eating something; Jongsuk was starting to look a bit starved.  It had been at least two days, if not three, since the pilot likely had his last meal.  At least he was drinking water.  Woobin wanted to have fun, not kill his captive.

“What good would that do you?” Woobin asked, scooting forward and placing a hand on the pilot’s thigh, “I thought you wanted to kill me?  As you are, I could take you down with my baby toe.”  Absentmindedly, he ran his hand up and down the pilot’s inner thigh.  He enjoyed the soft skin underneath his calloused fingers and pressed his fingers lightly into the supple muscle.

“Are you in a hurry to die?” Jongsuk asked, trying to shake off Woobin’s hand, “If so, uncuff me right now and we’ll see who takes down who.”  Giving up after a few exhausted shakes, he sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow.

“Squishing ants isn’t any fun,” Woobin replied, lowering himself onto his side and continuing to run his hand up and down the pilot’s torso absentmindedly, “I’d much rather fight an elephant.”  He paused his hand near the pilot’s collarbone and ran his fingers along them gently as if he were caressing a baby.  He closed his eyes and focused on the softness underneath his finger pads. 

He couldn’t quite explain the allure this pilot had over him.  Everything from the wary in Jongsuk’s brown eyes to the soft curve of his mouth when he frowned, Woobin wanted it all.  In his ten years of ual activity, not once has he been this perturbed by his partner.  Though his partners had consisted only of women until now, he had never once felt such heat from a simple gaze or gasp of breath.  The women he had had been beautiful; curvaceous with musical voices and long soft hair.  But not one had sent him into oblivion quite like this stubborn young pilot lying in his bed right now.  Was it the novelty of having with a man?  This pilot was the first man he had never had ual interest in.  Or was it the dominance he had in this ual relationship that he had lacked somewhat before?  After all, he had never quite cuffed his women to the bedpost before.

Whatever it was, Woobin was addicted.  Despite going two rounds already, he was sure the slightest spark could set him aflame yet again.  It didn’t take much; a simple glare from his captive, or the sound of a shaky breath.  That was all it took.  Even now, as he ran his palms over the gentle outline of the pilot’s abdomen, he felt the beginnings of lust burning in his stomach. It was both exciting and alarming.

“I can’t tell if you’re just erted, or completely insane,” Jongsuk said, sending a glare at Woobin. 

“Probably a bit of both,” Woobin murmured, scooting closer again and placing a kiss on the captive’s raised underarms, “Sensibility is just no fun.”  During his touches, he’d noticed that the pilot’s skin was a tad cool.  He wondered if the ness was making Jongsuk cold.  He vaguely wondered if another shower was in order.

Jongsuk was silent briefly before he said softly in a barely audible voice, “What was the purpose of that fighter jet?”  He turned to look at Woobin with a frown.  “Why did it suddenly fly into our air space and attack our cities?” he asked a hushed whisper as if he wasn’t sure if it was a subject to be discussed.

Woobin propped his head up with a hand and gazed down into Jongsuk’s wary eyes.  The pilot was, no doubt, talking about what had brought his plane down in the first place.  The army wasn’t told the details of every single military decision, but Woobin had been aware that his country had launched an aerial attack and crashed an enemy plane.  As for the reasons… he was much too uninterested in political affairs to care.

“Why ask me?” he murmured, reaching up and touching Jongsuk’s face gently, “Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”  He his fingers along the underside of the pilot’s jaw and let it rest there momentarily as his thumb brushed over the latter’s soft lips.  Rather than politics, he’d much rather devour the softness in front of him and live in the moment. 

“I thought you would know,” Jongsuk murmured, his eyes flickering to Woobin’s mouth briefly before looking back up again, “Seeing as you’re a captain and all.”  He swallowed and tried to turn his face away but Woobin tightened his fingers and held it in place.

“You think the top brass shares information with me just because I’m the captain of a company?  I only have two hundred men under my command,” he said, lowering his lips and placing a ghostly kiss on the pilot’s lips, “Don’t overestimate me.  I told you, I’m still young.”  His tongue darted out and traced the inside of the pilot’s upper lip.

“My mistake,” the pilot said, trying to turn away again but to no avail, “You don’t even sound interested in the topic.”  He sighed and let himself be kissed as Woobin leaned lower and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“That’s right,” Woobin said, on the bottom lip lovingly, “I don’t give a rat’s about politics.  I’m more like the bastard you think I am.” 

“Then why are you army?” Jongsuk asked, his voice quivering as Woobin trailed a hand down the side of his torso, “I’m sure you could have been anything else.”  He bit his lip as Woobin’s fingers brushed against his navel.

Woobin smirked at the response.  He probably shouldn’t go one more round with his starving captive but it was just too tempting the way Jongsuk shifted his hips against the sheets to try and shy away from his touch.  He felt his desire flare when the captive met his gaze with a harsh and accusing glare.

Why was he army?  It hadn’t really been his choice though he certainly hadn’t fought it either.  He came from an entire line of military men in his family; it was the logical next step to follow in their footsteps.  He’d climbed to captaincy within a year without too much effort and mostly spent his days with his arms around women and booze.  It was both entertaining and dull but that was how life was.  At least until he caught this feisty prey.

“Were I anything else,” Woobin murmured, “You’d be dead or tortured right now.  Shouldn’t you be thankful I decided on the army?”  He grinned when he received a scowl in return.  “I’d love to your brains out again,” he said, sitting up and stretching, “But I don’t plan on killing you just yet.  Even if dying of too much would be only too awesome, it would cut my fun way too short.” 

At that moment, another knock on the door came, this time much more softly.  Woobin looked up with annoyance at the door.  “What now?” he asked, yawning lazily.

“Sir, a suspicious person was found near the edge of town,” a soldier said with a nervous voice, “The squad lieutenant wants you to come take a look.”

Rolling his eyes, Woobin sighed and rolled off of bed.  Zipping up his pants, he replied, “I’ll be there in five.”  Circling around the bed, he grabbed his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders.  Taking the almost empty bottle of water, he brought the straw to the pilot’s lips and poked it.  He smirked as Jongsuk took the straw in his mouth and down the last of the water.  Setting the empty bottle aside, Woobin contemplated covering Jongsuk’s body.  He didn’t want to deal with his captive getting ill.  Nodding in a silent agreement, he reached over the other and pulled some covers over top of his captive.

“What…?” Jongsuk blinked, his brows furrowed with confusion.

“No?” Woobin paused, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Jongsuk.

“Yes,” Jongsuk said quickly, suddenly shivering, “I’m cold…”

“I thought so,” Woobin said, nodding as he covered the captive, “If you get sick, it will be a pain in the for me to deal with.”

“You’re already a pain in the for me,” Jongsuk muttered as he tried to settle further into the covers.  He sighed with frustration as his arms remained up in the air due to the cuffs.

“I tried to be gentle,” Woobin retorted, “It’d be much better if you were more cooperative.”

“Then uncuff me,” Jongsuk said suddenly, looking at him with daring eyes, “Release me.  That’s the only way I can be cooperative.”  He tried to sit up but the cuffs kept him on his back.

Woobin instinctively snorted.  His captive was so desperate to be released that he was even lying about giving him better .  “Nice try,” he said dryly before buttoning up his shirt and grabbing his hat, “No dice, pumpkin.”  He laughed to himself as he opened up the front door and slipped out into the hall.  Closing and locking the door behind him, he pocketed the keys into his pants and walked down the hall towards the stairs.

Now that he thought about it, the captive was incredibly weak from a lack of water and food.  Even if he was released, Woobin doubted the pilot could fight back.  But was it worth the risk?  What did he stand to lose anyway other than letting his captive escape?  The thought of losing the pilot brought a small frown to his face.  Even if the pilot was useless for intel, Woobin hated the idea of never seeing Jongsuk’s glare again.  Like an owner faced with the decision put down his pet, Woobin preferred to see just how long his captive could survive.

Wiping his face expressionless, he squared his shoulders and stepped out into the streets. 

Jongsuk growled in frustration as he clanked his handcuffs against the railing.  He had tried to tempt the authority to release him from the handcuffs but it had been useless.  And unless he could pull apart the metal welding of the railing, he’d have to break his wrist trying to slip his hand out of the cuff.  After a few more tugs, he flopped back against the pillow and sighed.

He was starving.  Despite his stubbornness, he was dying to have a bite of the chocolate bread sitting in the plastic bag next to the bed.  He wanted to devour anything edible he could find and drown himself in bottles of water.  After stuffing his face, he wanted to sleep for a few days without interruption.  He felt as if he’d ran several marathons in the short time that’s passed and every fiber of his body was screaming with fatigue.

What, perhaps, scared him the most was the way his body reacted to the latest bout of .  He had thought the drug from earlier in the day had worn off but the had been more pleasurable than before.  Why?  Why was his body reacting so readily?  Had it gotten used to a man’s touch so quickly that he no longer needed drugs to feel aroused?  Just the thought of it made his skin crawl.  But when he remembered the hot contact of the authority’s chest on his back, and the heavy breathing in his ear, he felt sparks of residual lust in his stomach that threatened to spiral into another full-blown .

Gritting his teeth, Jongsuk pulled on his handcuffs as hard as he could.  There was no way he could stay here any longer.  He was starving slowly and going insane.  He had already forgotten the shame that came with being taken by a man, much less an enemy, and he was terrified that he would eventually come to anticipate the abuse.  He wanted to settle in his hate for the man Kim Woobin; he wanted to feel nothing but disgust at the .  Instead, his mind was getting used to the authority’s charisma and infuriating smirk and his body was craving more pleasure.  This had to stop.

Clenching his jaw, Jongsuk squeezed his eyes shut as he used every ounce of energy he had left to try and pull his hand out from the handcuff.  It was near impossible since his hands were much larger than the cuffs around his wrists but there was nothing else he could do.  He hoped that the force of his pull would break the welding around the bed railing but he knew it would be unlikely.  After what seemed like several minutes of intense pulling, he exhaled and winced.  His wrists had become red from the force of the pull and his right hand was starting to swell a little.  How could such brief pulling make it swell?  Jongsuk stared perplexed at his wrist and turned it in the cuff.  It must have been all the pulling and tugging he’d done during ; it probably also didn’t help that he’d been handcuffed for almost a day now. 

Taking another deep breath, he tried to shrink his hand space as much as possible.  It seemed to be working; his hand was starting to fit through the cuff.  However, the pain was getting more and more intense in his right hand.  Jongsuk bit his lip hard to keep himself from crying out in pain.  There was no other way, he reasoned with himself, this was the only way.  A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he struggled to fit his hand through the handcuff.  Just a bit more…!

Jongsuk froze as he heard footsteps outside of the door.  Was the authority back already?  It probably wouldn’t take long for Woobin to tell them the suspicious person was a nobody; he had the real person locked up in his room after all.  Frowning and letting out a disappointed sigh, Jongsuk laid back on the pillow.  He had lost yet another chance to break free.

But something didn’t sound right.  Why was the authority taking so long in opening the door?  He had a key… so why did it sound like he was fiddling with the lock?  Jongsuk looked at the door with confusion; what was the authority doing outside? 

“Hurry up!” someone whispered outside of the door while the locks continued to jiggle.

Jongsuk’s eyes widened as he stared at the door in horror.  Someone was trying to break in to the authority’s hotel room!  His heart racing, he quickly resumed pulling on his wrist.  He couldn’t be caught handcuffed to the bed!  Everything, all that abuse, would have been for nothing!  Biting back a groan of pain, he pulled on his wrist as hard as he could.  From the door, he could hear two people bickering.

“Shut up, I’m trying!” someone else whispered, “Are you sure he’s gone?”

“Yes,” the other responded, his voice a nervous whisper, “I told him we caught a suspicious person.  Are you sure they’re holding someone?  If he shows up and they don’t have anyone caught-”

“Shut up!” the other hissed, “I’m trying to concentrate!  And yes, they caught a young kid-”

Jongsuk opened his mouth in a silent scream as he felt his wrist snap under the pressure.  The pain in his right hand made his head swim and nausea hit him like a ton of bricks.  His heart raced against his ribcage as he fought back the urge to scream.  He bit his lip as he stared down at his swelling and bruised right wrist; at least it had come free of the handcuff.  Tears stung his eyes as his vision swam but he didn’t have time for pain.  He needed to hide as quickly as he could! 

He glanced around the room for somewhere, anywhere, he could hide.  He couldn’t jump out the window; he’d get hurt and the sound of breaking glass would alert everyone in the vicinity.  Not to mention he was stark …  Spotting the tiny closet, he rushed inside and closed the door behind him.  He left a small crack in the door so he could peer outside.  He tried to control his ragged breathing but the pain was taking over his senses.  He focused his mind on the front door and tried not to black out.

Only a few seconds after he’d safely hidden himself, the door burst open.  Two uniformed soldiers stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind them.  Jongsuk watched as the two looked around the room nervously.

“What do we do now?” one of them asked, looking at the other with nervousness and impatience, “Did you bring it?”

“Of course I did,” the shorter one snapped, taking out a small packet from his pocket, “You sure he bought drinking water?”  He looked around the room apprehensively as he clenched the small packet in his hand.

“I told you,” the taller one hissed, spotting the plastic bag of food and water near the bed, “I saw him visiting the store this morning!”  Walking over to the bag, he picked it up quickly and pulled out two bottles of water.  “Which one do we do?” he asked, confused as he held the two bottles.

“We’ll have to do both,” the other said, taking out a small box from his jacket. 

Jongsuk exhaled inaudibly as he tried to maintain his focus.  From where he crouched inside the closet, he could get a clear view of the two as the busied themselves.  His eyes widened as he watched the short one pull out and put together a small syringe from the box.  He rushed off to the bathroom as the tall one peered around the room nervously.  Jongsuk held his breath as the tall soldier’s gaze fell onto the closet crack.  The soldier narrowed his eyes but he was interrupted as the short one returned with what looked like a small medicine bottle of tap water.

“In here,” the short one said, handing the packet over to the tall one and motioning to the bottle, “Quick.”

The tall one nodded and quickly untied the packet.  Jongsuk squinted his eyes to try and see what was in the packet but it was no use; the object was far too small for him to see at a distance.  Whatever it was, the tall soldier quickly dumped the contents of the packet into the tiny medicine bottle.  The short soldier capped it and gave it a quick shake.  Opening up the bottle, he dipped the needle of the syringe into the bottle and pulled a full injection of the liquid.

“Do you think the dosage is strong enough?” the tall one asked, holding out one of the bottles of water, “What if the water’s too diluted-”

“There’s enough cyanide in this to kill a whole squad,” the short one hissed as he cautiously poked the needle through the soft cap of the water bottle.

Jongsuk gasped silently as he watched the needle pierce through the bottle cap.  Quickly, the short soldier injected the clear syringe liquid into the bottle and pulled the needle back out.  Plugging the tiny hole, he gave it a quick shake before dipping the needle back into the tiny medicine bottle again and repeating the action with the second water bottle.

What were they doing?  Had the short soldier said cyanide?  Why were they lacing their captain’s water with poison?  Did they plan on killing him?  But… why?  Jongsuk’s mind raced with questions as the two soldiers finished poisoning the second bottle.  Why would they do this?  He watched as the two hurriedly put the bottles back into the plastic bag. 

“Hurry up,” the short one said as he pocketed the syringe, “He might be back any minute-”

“I know,” the tall one snapped, putting the bag where he’d found it.  As he passed by the closet, he paused briefly and narrowed his eyes. 

Jongsuk could barely hear anything over the roaring in his ears.  His wrist ached as sharp pains shot up his arm.  If he got caught now, everything would have been for nothing.  He held his breath as the tall soldier took a step towards the closet.  What could he do?  Should he rush them?  And run out? 

“What are you doing?” the short one suddenly hissed from the door, “We need to get the hell out now!”

“I’m coming,” the tall one snapped, turning in his footsteps and walking quickly out the door.  Stepping out into the hall, he closed it with a soft click.

Jongsuk let out a breath of relief and listened as their footsteps faded down the hallway.  Stumbling out of the closet, he held onto his broken wrist and winced.  He’d dodged a bullet; he was almost certain he would be caught.  For now, at least, he was safe.

Gritting his teeth, he looked around the room.  He needed to escape but certainly not dressed the way he was.  And if he could, he would have liked to find his knife… Walking quickly into the washroom, he was relieved to find his clothes still piled on the floor from the night before.  Gingerly, he picked up his pants and slipped them on.  He let out a soft cry of pain as he jolted his broken wrist.  The pain was like nothing he had experienced before.  He’d never broken anything in his life and the sharp stabbing pain in his arm was making him sweat buckets.

Grabbing his shirt with his left hand, Jongsuk rushed back into the bedroom and began searching through the drawers for his knife.  He needed it if he hoped to survive out in the wilderness; staying in town was certainly no longer an option.  Besides, he still needed to find a radio communicator.  He felt hopelessness well up in his chest as his search came up empty.  Giving up, he crumpled to the floor and leaned his head against the wall.  Would he make it back alive?  With a broken wrist and a starving body?

He blinked as he suddenly looked at the floor by the bed.  Underneath it, hidden partially by the bed’s covers, was his knife.  Laughing maniacally, he grabbed the knife and stood.  His hope renewed he flipped open the blade and stared at the steel.  He’d make it; dying wasn’t an option.

He jumped and looked up, however, as the front door suddenly opened again.

Author's notes:

Yay!  A new chapter!  More to come soon!