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“I can enhance your cryomancy.”
Bi-Han peered over at the sorcerer, now next to him. The words piqued his interest, albeit with a bit of doubt.
Since Bi-Han had sided with Shang Tsung, the two had been stuck hiding within the laboratory deep within Outworld. They were forced to carefully determine their next steps, having been cornered by the Fire God and his champions.
He cursed his brothers for not seeing his vision for the clan and for the lack of understanding of the sacrifices he had to make as Grandmaster to bring the Lin Kuei to its true potential. Losing them was just another step closer to the future destined for the clan.
Shang Tsung was ecstatic to share his ideals but only for his side of the bargain.
Bickering on about conflicting ideas, it was a miracle neither of them had ripped each other's face off by now. Page after page had begun to litter the floors and tables surrounding them, filled with muddled thoughts. Enough time cooped up here with the sorcerer, and he may take every crazed suggestion that the outworlder may propose.
Nighttime soon caught up with the two, forcing them to converse under candlelight. The warm illumination blended the writings on the paper into illegible scribbles.
The sorcerer's eyes now bore into Bi-Han’s own, a smug grin plastered on his face. The eagerness from his idea emitting off of him was irritating. Such a procedure was too valuable to be passed up, however the motive regarding it was perplexing.
A grimace curled onto Bi-Han’s hidden lips. The idea floated through his mind, but only a fool would take the offer. Refusing to answer the sorcerer, Bi-Han crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. He had no interest in being Shang Tsung’s lab rat. Regardless, the prospect of greater power amused his attention.
The sorcerer only shrugged, pushing down his grin to put on a more persuasive demeanour. Pretending as though it was common knowledge, “It is only a boost of sorts, more training could be required to maximize it to its full potential, but you are used to that already aren’t you?” His head tilted at Bi-Han who only glared at him.
Silence filled the air around them, watching as a grin fought its way onto Shang Tsung’s lips.
“Surely the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei isn’t scared of a little needle?” Shang Tsung’s act faltered as a chuckle rippled through him, watching as Bi-Han’s hands clenched around his biceps at the taunt. Entertaining this conversation longer would plant reckless ideas into the Outworlder's mind. Bi-Han simply shot Shang Tsung a warning glance. Yet the sorcerer ignored it, continuing with his absurd proposal.
“But isn’t it enticing? To wield almost the same amount of elemental power as that of the Fire God?” Shang Tsung whipped his head around to Bi-Han, now slowly pacing around the Grandmaster like prey, uncaring for the papers cluttering the floor. The warm lights from his laboratory casted down onto the sorcerer, harsh shadows accentuating his facial expressions. An attempt to fish out a reaction from the cryomancer.
Of course, the comparison was enticing, yet he forbade himself from revealing that to the other. Bi-Han gritted his teeth.
Any slip-up from the sorcerer could be detrimental to the Lin Kuei’s future.
Shang Tsung approached Bi-Han front on, the cryomancer snarled, refusing to show a different reaction to the sorcerer.
Umber eyes glared unto his own, “Although, it bears a few risks but,” Shang Tsung let out a sly grin, “There are precautions you may not.. be fond of.”
Bi-Han’s brows furrowed, voice rugged as it slipped through the mask, “And that is?”
Shang Tsung’s face lit up at the response, finally working his idea into Bi-Han’s head. He interlocked his fingers together, “For the safety of the two of us during the procedure, and to guarantee expected results, I require you to be bound during such.”
—
Bi-Han huffed as he uncomfortably shifted around on the hard surface he had been seated on, unable to stretch his arms beyond the cramped position he was left in. Bi-Han cursed the sorcerer who had constrained him in this leather jacket—his arms strapped to the front of his chest. The dark material was adorned with intricate patterns, laced with golden thread.
It was humiliating.
The sorcerer had just strapped him in, leaving Bi-Han confined as he left the room to gather materials.
The room surrounding him was lined with different vials and documents littered the tables, with what looked like medical devices lined neatly along the surface; it was too dark to make out the fine tools amidst the shadows.
A tinge of regret swirled within him, how he easily handed over control to Shang Tsung as if Shang Tsung had dangled candy in front of him as if he were a small child.
The leather strained against him as Bi-Han began to stretch his arms, testing the waters. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could break through if the sorcerer decided to turn on him.
The door leading to the room swung open, light now pouring in. Shang Tsung’s silhouette was pitch black, his features barely seen.
His body hastily relaxed, attention now pinned on the sorcerer who had re-entered the room clutching onto a cloth pouch. “How are you doing, Bi-Han?” Shang Tsung asked with a hint of amusement as he set down the object on the table Bi-Han was seated on, eyeing the earthrealmer up and down when he believed the other wasn’t looking.
The Grandmaster growled, he couldn’t take Shang Tsung’s ridicule much longer, “Hurry up with this.” Bi-Han’s hands clenched within the constraints, the leather straining.
“Patience,” Nimble hands fiddled with the pouch’s zippers, before gazing back at Bi-Han, “I’m sure you are ecstatic,” Bi-Han swore he heard the smirk in Shang Tsung’s voice.
The pouch opened to reveal different vials of varying colours which were securely strapped into place with a thin strap. Bi-Han’s eyes were fixated in place just in case the sorcerer was to tamper with it as if he wasn’t letting the man poke him with something he could barely comprehend.
Shang Tsung took the vials as he stepped away from the table, crossing to the other side of the room in search of something. He pushed away different contraptions and tools cluttering his desks, scavenging each drawer before slamming it and opening the next.
Bi-Han scoffed at the man’s incompetence to even have some sense of organization.
Finally, Shang Tsung let out a noise of triumph, whipping around to Bi-Han with a syringe filled to the brim with a shimmering blue substance. He flicked the glass, pushing the air bubbles out of the tube, before looking at Bi-Han with an almost crazed expression.
“Now, should there be any side effects…” Shang Tsung hummed, displaying the syringe for Bi-Han’s view. “You’re the one who agreed to it.”
Bi-Han scoffed, “You’d go down with me.”
Laughter erupted from Shang Tsung as if it were the funniest thing he’s heard in centuries. The sorcerer struggled to gain his breath back, but eventually stabilized himself, “Not if the elixir were to melt you from the inside out.”
“If you ever dare try anyth—“ Bi-Han bit back before Shang Tsung quickly shut him down.
“Don’t fret, Grandmaster. I won’t.” Shang Tsung said hollowly, a grin creeping onto his face. “What would I gain from losing one of my most powerful alliances?”
The shimmering liquid in the syringe made him reel at the thought of just whatever the sorcerer was sticking into him. “Just get on with this already.”
Shang Tsung only chuckled, skillfully aligning the needle at Bi-Han’s shoulder.
The needle pierced Bi-Han’s skin, a burning sensation rapidly spread along the site of the intrusion. Bi-Han clenched his jaw, eyes squeezing shut as the liquid’s effects spread across his skin. For a cryomancy enhancement, warmth coursed through his veins, mind growing hazy with each second ticked away.
Bi-Han’s head fell limp, slight sparks shooting straight up his spine. He buckled over, the heat intensifying within his body. Shang Tsung’s figure pulled away, his eyes pinned on Bi-Han.
It was nothing like Bi-Han had felt before. It was as if he was shoved into an oven on maximum heat. He greedily gulped for air, impossible to breathe through his mask, suffocating almost, he had no way of removing it even if he tried.
Sweat began to drip down his forehead, the leather wrapped tightly around him only bounced the heat back onto him. What made it worse was the tingling that had formed within his stomach. Blood rushed towards his groin, it ached, it burned. Yet all he could think of was relief.
What had the sorcerer injected him with?
Bi-Han couldn’t think, his head feeling light, “What.. did— ..you—“ The words came out croaked, his throat hoarse.
Shang Tsung tilted his head at Bi-Han, “I’ve told you this before, Bi-Han, whatever comes now is a product of your agreement,”
Bi-Han threw his head back, hissing as he writhed around in discomfort. His appearance was the least of his worries as of now. The sorcerer chucked the syringe on the table, his hand darting up to Bi-Han’s forehead.
Shang Tsung’s eyes narrowed at Bi-Han, now clearly as confused as he was. He turned away to a book laid open on a table, flipping through each page as he scanned each page with a quick precision Bi-Han himself wouldn’t be able to replicate.
Shang Tsung looked over his shoulder, his eyes darting along Bi-Han for any differences.
“When.. this is over— I—swear..” Bi-Han grit, vulnerable and hazed—left open like a book for Shang Tsung to study whichever way he pleased.
A malevolent grin spread along the sorcerer’s face, “Relax, Bi-Han, this is merely a side effect, I had clearly warned you at the beginning.”
“I should..have never—“
An idea popped through Shang Tsung’s mind as he crept up to Bi-Han, his face now close to his own. “Do you wish for relief?”
Bi-Han groaned, refusing to respond. His eyes clenched shut in response. The heat radiating off Shang Tsung was too much to handle. He couldn’t think straight, the back of his mind screaming one thing.
The sorcerer inched closer, his breath brushing against Bi-Han’s ear, “Or, I can leave you like this, and continue on with the next step of the process.”
If Shang Tsung was implying what Bi-Han thought he was implying—
With each breath Bi-Han took, it only echoed within his mask. Every stutter and gasp added to Shang Tsung’s deliberate calculations.
Shang Tsung’s hand slithered along Bi-Han’s thigh, the touch intoxicatingly addictive. Unable to swat it away even if he wanted to, he was bound–like prey wrapped around a snake's coils. “It’s a yes or no, Grandmaster.” He purred, the title rolled deliciously off his tongue. Bi-Han whipped his head away, his body retaliated, squirming under the touch. The sorcerer’s voice swirled within his mind, blending dizzily with the elixir flowing through his body.
“Please–” Bi-Han gasped, he could barely comprehend his own words now, submitting to whatever his body told him.
Shang Tsung hummed, the hand on Bi-Han’s thigh inched closer, halting before it reached where Bi-Han wanted it to, “Please what?”
Bi-Han wanted to bite his tongue, but the words slipped out before he could even think about them, “Please– touch me, anything—”
Without a hint of hesitation, the hand on his thigh began to palm him through the cloth, feeling as his groin twitched eagerly in response. Soft groans fell from Bi-Han’s mouth, the heightened sensitivity shot sparks up his spine. Shang Tsung chuckled at how fast the Lin Kuei fell apart at his hand.
A finger slipped behind one of the strings of Bi-Han’s mask, swinging off the mask to dangle by his other ear, his face bare and exposed to the sorcerer in front of him, revelling in the way Bi-Han’s face contorted in pleasure.
Bi-Han’s hips began to betray him, rutting up against the hand in search of relief. The jacket restricted him from any other movement, his only option was to let Shang Tsung take care of him. Humiliation clashed against the pleasure within his mind. The hardened front he spent so long perfecting, to become the ideal Grandmaster, crumbled with each touch.
Bi-Han’s head fell on Shang Tsung’s shoulder, the sensation was too dizzying to keep him upright. It was the only option as his arms were bound to his chest, reducing him to a squirming mess.
“How interesting,” Shang Tsung hummed, the sight satisfying the curiosity within his mind. His hand retracted from Bi-Han’s groin to rest on his thigh, the thumb lightly caressing the limb, Bi-Han’s hips involuntarily rutted upward, a frail attempt at persuading the sorcerer to touch him. “I’ve barely touched you and you’ve already debased yourself.” The words stabbed into his mind, heat rushing to Bi-Han’s face as if he couldn’t get hotter.
The cryomancer trembled under his hand, squirming for more. “Stop– talking,” his words muffled under Shang Tsung’s shoulder. The hand below slid under the restrainment, his fingers curling under the hem of Bi-Han’s pants, shuddering as the digits brushed against his sensitive body.
“Giving orders when you’re bound like this, you only embarrass yourself, Grandmaster.” The chuckle that rippled through Shang Tsung only deepened Bi-Han’s shame. His title now felt undeserving, with how easily he turned away all control. Shang Tsung’s other hand pushed Bi-Han off of him, now unable to hide his face.
Bi-Han watched as Shang Tsung began to pull down his pants agonizingly slow, his patience wearing thin as his desire only grew each time the cloth accidentally brushed against his erection.
Shang Tsung’s other hand suddenly grabbed Bi-Han’s face, turning it to face his own. “Look at me,” Coming into view, Shang Tsung’s cunning grin was spread along his lips. Bi-Han was too far gone to realize the fucked up gratification Shang Tsung was getting out of this, teasing him only for the sake of his enjoyment. What else was Bi-han supposed to expect out of the sorcerer?
His pants fell to his ankles, and the thin cloth of his boxers was now the only barrier between him and the sorcerer above. Eyeing the pre-cum leaking into the fabric, Shang Tsung hummed, “It seems you’re enjoying this more than I am,”
Shame flooded Bi-Han’s mind, in a more sober mind, Bi-Han would have rather anything else than land in this situation. Yet, it soothed a craving in his mind he spent hours attempting to push away.
His brows furrowed as he attempted to turn his head away from the iron grip that Shang Tsung had on his face. The sorcerer tutted, his hand bringing Bi-Han’s head down to watch as he slowly freed his length from its confines.
A hiss slipped past Bi-Han’s mouth as his dick met the cool air of the laboratory. Bi-Han jolted as Shang Tsung wrapped his free hand around the length. He gave the cock an agonizingly slow pump, eyes fixated on the member in front of him.
“If someone ever told me that the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei would be in my laboratory all bound and desperate, I’d laugh in their face.” Shang Tsung purred, the pace of his hand slightly picking up with each syllable that fell from his lips, adding a slight twist with each one. Bi-Han’s thighs trembled, threatening to snap shut as each stroke sent him over the edge. “But who would have known,”
Shang Tsung leaned over, tilting Bi-Han’s head so he could fit perfectly within the crook of the cyromancer’s neck, his mouth brushing against the side of Bi-Han’s ear. “Don’t worry, Grandmaster. Your secret is safe with me.” Pre-cum leaked from the tip, making each pump glide smoothly along the sensitive flesh.
Every stroke dragged out breathy gasps from Bi-Han, his back arching into the hand around him, the relief from the elixir too intoxicating, too much.
“Have you let another man take care of you before?” Shang Tsung backed up, the hand on Bi-Han’s face letting go as he gazed into Bi-Han’s dazed features, studying each with precision. His own arousal exposed itself through his words, the way his eyes darted along Bi-Han, yet the other was too lost in his pleasure to realize.
“H–uh?” Bi-Han gasped, too dazed to realize what Shang Tsung was implying. The other talked to him as if he hadn’t sped up the pace of his hand, observing as he trembled.
Shang Tsung tilted his head, his eyes darting along Bi-Han, waiting for an answer, “Well?”
Truthfully, with his duties as Grandmaster, Bi-Han had never been able to experiment. He was always too busy with training to give in to his carnal desires. However, in his sparse free time, it had said otherwise. Too pent up, yet too busy to dabble in other affairs.
“I–” Bi-Han choked, the hand on his cock slowing down, “..Not with– someone else..”
If Bi-Han was in a clearer mind, the words would have never left his mouth.
Shang Tsung’s hand stroked to the hilt, his grip tightening as it held in that place, “Then you wouldn’t mind if it was me, then?”
Gods, he wanted it.
A groan fell from his mouth, the sorcerer taking it as an affirmative.
Shang Tsung let go, his dick twitched in the air, the tip left an angry red after the sorcerer’s ministrations. Bi-Han slouched over, unable to touch himself due to his position. The sorcerer crossed the room to a shelf as he searched through the various vials he had stored, each one shimmering with a different colour.
He brought up a vial to his face, reading the minuscule label before tipping the vial to watch the clear liquid move around in the glass. Who just had lube in a laboratory? Bi-Han couldn’t bring himself to care, if anything, the sorcerer’s strange preparations were a blessing in disguise.
The lube was lathered on Shang Tsung’s long fingers, the light glistening off the slick as he approached Bi-Han in his vulnerable state, shivering as the slicked digits brushed against his opening. “Are you ready?” Shang Tsung asked, his head tilting at the cyromancer who only seemed impatient. Bi-Han could only nod, his eyes fixated on the sight below him.
Shang Tsung’s fingers pressed into the opening, the warmth wrapping around his digits served as a reminder of what was to come. He focused on Bi-Han’s expressions, studying how his back arched into it as he scissored the cyromancer open. Gritted moans fell from Bi-Han’s mouth, his chest raising with every gasp and shutter.
The digits inside of him searched around with every thrust, eventually pressing into a spot that made Bi-Han arch, his dick jolting at the rush of pleasure that shot up his body. The sorcerer snorted, wallowing in his sick glee at seeing Bi-Han at his mercy. Shang Tsung’s body slowly dipped down, his free hand brushing along Bi-Han as he fell to his knees. He was smiling up at Bi-Han with his fingers still deep inside of him, as his other hand wrapped around his dick.
Bi-Han could only groan, the pleasure too dizzying to answer properly.
The sorcerer’s lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, his tongue circling the top, taking Bi-Han by surprise as he arched into the wet heat, the pleasure only amplified by the fingers deep within him. His dick slid farther into Shang Tsung’s mouth as he took more in, continuing the pace of his hand as he bobbed his head up and down.
In his state the only thing Bi-Han could do was squirm around as groans slipped from his mouth, filling the cold laboratory with his mewls.
Shang Tsung’s head bounced off, sliding lower to lick the underside from bottom to top. “Needy, are we Grandmaster?” The words fell from Shang Tsung’s mouth teasingly, dragging out the title to mock their positions of power.
“Shut–.. Up–!” Shame flooded through Bi-Han’s system, his last shred of dignity laughed at by the sorcerer.
Every hit to his prostate, the warmth enveloping his cock, quickly drove Bi-Han closer to the edge, the aphrodisiac-like effects within his body playing against him. Taking this to his advantage, the sorcerer would vary the pace between the two, from lazily bobbing up and down, to the thrusts against the bundle of nerves intensifying, all while taking in the Grandmaster's facial expressions.
The mouth on his cock slowly rose to the top, bouncing off the length with a pop. Shang Tsung’s hand stayed wrapped around his cock as his other fingers slid off, earning a disappointed groan from the bound man.
“I can’t have you losing yourself just yet.” Eagerness slipping through the cracks, Shang Tsung hastily freed his cock, pressing the tip against Bi-Han’s opening. His fingers ran along the leather, gripping Bi-Han’s hips as he impatiently thrust in.
Shang Tsung let out a breath as he slowly rolled his hips, letting out mutters under his breath. He leisurely dragged out the length before slamming it back in, every thought that Bi-Han could muster faded with the sorcerer's ministrations.
Eventually, the sorcerer found a rhythm within his thrusts. The size was all too new to Bi-Han, it was intoxicating. Enhanced by whatever the Outworlder had pricked him with before.
Humiliation swirled within Bi-Han, yet a twisted part of his mind enjoyed all of it.
Shang Tsung on the other hand was too lost in pleasure to make another snarky remark, the iron grip on his hips brought Bi-Han in with every ram. The sorcerer slotted his face into the crook of Bi-Han’s neck, lightly grazing the fragile skin with his teeth. Shang Tsung’s body pushed onto Bi-Han’s, pressing him lower onto the table.
“Is this what you wanted all this time?” Shang Tsung gasped, the warmth of his breath brushed against his cool skin. “You took up my offer for the chance of me taking you like this, isn’t that it?” The brutality of his thrusts only intensified with the harshness of his words.
“Ughnkk– No..!” Bi-Han attempted to shoot back, it couldn’t be any farther from the truth. However, Bi-Han would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the situation.
The old table below them rattled with every ram, struggling against the weight of Bi-Han. He questioned if the surface was strong enough to handle the force being delivered to it. If it were to give up now, he’d have nothing to catch his fall, Shang Tsung toppling right on top of him.
A yelp escaped Bi-Han’s throat, jolting him out of thought as Shang Tsung sunk his teeth into the exposed part of his shoulder, before mockingly licking the indents within the skin. His neglected cock below bounced feebly, the friction against the rough fabric of Shang Tsung’s clothes drove him mad.
Shang Tsung only chuckled at the man below him, his mind growing more primal. “Well, I’ll give you what you want.” He rammed his length into the helpless cyromancer. “An heir to the Lin-Kuei” His thrusts grew more erratic, uncaring for Bi-Han’s pleasure but rather selfishly chasing his, bound arms unable to help him.
The words danced delightfully within his mind, playing with the responsibilities that Bi-Han had as Grandmaster. The idea turned Bi-Han on more than it should have.
Shang Tsung groaned shamelessly in Bi-Han’s ear, the grip on his hips now painful as his rhythm stuttered, burying deep within Bi-Han as he lost himself within his high.
“Oh? Did I forget about something?” Shang Tsung mumbled in the crook of Bi-Han’s neck, pulling up just enough to cup Bi-Han’s cock within his hands, mercilessly jerking Bi-Han to completion along with him.
The final added stimulation finally drove Bi-Han to the edge, his back arching as his load painted along the black jacket.
Shang Tsung sighed, pulling out to watch as his cum dripped onto the floor. “Shall we get on with the real enhancement now?”
“What?” Bi-Han’s eyes widened, glaring at the sorcerer.
“Turns out I injected you with the wrong elixir,” The same sly grin spread onto Shang Tsung’s face, “But you did agree to anything that would happen, including my mistakes.”
“You’re dead, sorcerer.”