Namjoon's eyes slowly opened, and for a moment he felt like they were still closed as he couldn't see anything but darkness.

He tried to move, but his body was so heavy that he gave up, sighing tiredly. His arms hurt, and he could feel that they were behind his back.

Why were they there? It wasn't comfortable. 

He groaned, trying to bring them back in front of him, but they wouldn't separate, wouldn't budge from his back.

Well then, he would just have to...

He somehow managed to bend his knees, drawing them up to his chest. 

It was hard- his muscles weren't responding to his brain's commands like they usually did.

Finally he wormed his wrists down, slipping them past his ass, his feet, and then they were in front of him again.

He could feel himself moving, bumping along, but he was too tired to question it. He was just glad blood was flowing to his arms again. He stretched them out, feeling soft yet firm material all around him.

Feeling returned to his index finger, and he wiggled it slightly, watching it bend as his eyes gradually got used to the dark.

His other fingers followed suit, and soon he was flexing his whole hand, slowly but surely becoming aware again.

The small space he was in bumped over something large, and that seemed to jog his memory.

He was in the trunk of a car, and he was restrained.

That man had broke into his place and stabbed him with a needle.

Something had been in that syringe, some kind of clear liquid.

A drug- he was drugged.

And oh my God- he was wearing nothing but his black boxers.

He sat up abruptly- or, he tried to, anyways.

He groaned in pain at the headache that erupted when he lifted his head, quickly settling himself back down on the floor of the trunk. 

He could barely move, barely think, tied up.

That drug, whatever it was, was strong, and it was still in him. Being pumped through his veins, rendering him useless.

Though it was wearing off, it wasn't wearing off fast enough, as the car had slowed to a halt, and a moment later, the engine switched off.

Namjoon's heart pounded, wondering if he was about to be killed now. Maybe they were at the edge of a river or lake, and his body was going to be wrapped in a tarp and dumped. Would they stab him or shoot him?

Shooting would be more merciful, but if they shot his head than a stab wound would be better, since he knew his parents would want an open casket funeral.

Footsteps, the sound of a key being inserted into a lock, and the trunk popped open.

Namjoon squinted at the bright light, flinching away as his tied hands came up to shield his face.

The man stood there, and Namjoon felt like choking on his fear- if he could get his throat muscles to work with him.

Hands reached in, and the student shivered, not fully successfully biting back a small sob when they touched him, carefully picking him up and lifting him out of the trunk.

His feet touched the cold floor- cement, they were in a garage- and he stumbled, his legs unable to support himself yet.

To his revolting horror, the man caught him, his strong arms wrapping around the boy to steady him, holding him close against his chest.

Namjoon gave a feeble attempt to push himself away, and the man seemed to not even notice it as he partly guided, partly dragged the stumbling boy towards a door that led into the house.

"How'd you get your arms free?" The man murmured, but since he didn't seem mad about it, Namjoon tried not to worry.

Despite the bright light, the student tried to look around.

It seemed like a regular garage, with a few shelves bolted to the wall, holding paint cans, tools, a garden hose and other miscellaneous junk Namjoon couldn't quite make out. He looked down, seeing a few oil and dirt stains on the gray floor. Glancing to his side, he saw a few small square windows in the garage door.

It was light out- some time in the afternoon.

They had driven the whole night, and Namjoon had no idea what city he was in now.

With that terrified thought in his drugged mind, the man opened the door and they entered the house.

-

The door opened, revealing they were in a small room that was barely bigger than a hallway.

It wasn't the first sight Namjoon had ever expected to see after being kidnapped, nor the second or third or fourth or...

It was half a foyer, half a laundry room, with a small washer and dryer rammed against each other to the left, and a short, scratchy rug sat on the white tiled floor, a few pairs of shoes messily scattered on it. To the right was a half open, mini closet, with stored winter gear, coats, more shoes, and a few boxes crammed inside.

By all means, so far, this seemed like a normal house, and Namjoon was more than a little confused as he was pushed down the room, emerging into a kitchen.

The kitchen was more grand, with shiny, hardwood flooring, a medium sized island with a rectangle slab of granite countertop resting on it, and a few papers and a bowl of fruit resting on that. The counters, stove, fridge and dishwasher lined two walls, and a circular wooden table with four matching chairs stood in the middle.

He immediately searched for a phone, his eyes adjusting to the brighter lights more every second he was exposed to them, and his heart soared when he saw a black landline resting a foot away from the sink.

The man pulled him past it, however, leaving the kitchen and entering the living room.

It had a cream-colored carpet, and a large leather couch was set up in the middle of the room. A reclining chair sat beside it, facing a mounted television on the wall. A fireplace was beneath the TV, empty for now. A few large windows showed Namjoon a backyard, with sprawling green grass lined by a white fence, and behind that was a dense woods. A few potted plants, some hanging pictures that were too far away to see closely and a large bookshelf completed the living room.

But again, the man pushed him past all this, heading for a set of stairs.

Namjoon stumbled, and shuddered when the man caught him again.

Feeling this persons skin against his own felt like a bunch of bugs squirming, and Namjoon fought revulsion.

He tripped on the first stair- his muscles still trying to fight the drug and remember how to work properly and the man sighed.

"You know what," the man huffed, and Namjoon's eyes widened in shock when he was suddenly lifted into the air.

The man was carrying him bridal style up the stairs, and Namjoon's whole- and bare- left side was now pressed against the mans chest.

It was too much, and the boy cried out brokenly, his voice weak and soft, struggling to get away.

The movement resembled that of a little kid trying to break free of a parent putting them to bed, but Namjoon didn't care- he just wanted to get far away from all of this.

"N-no, pleas...don't- s-stop-" Namjoon forced out, digging his elbow between the mans pecs, trying to twist away as his wrists were still bound together.

The man tightened his hold, and Namjoon froze in fear, staring up in terror at the eyes glaring down at him.

"Stop it." The man hissed, digging his fingers into Namjoon's bicep and thigh. "Enough, you hear me?"

Namjoon didn't move, more in fear than actual obedience, and the man grunted, continuing up the carpet covered stairs.

The stairs led to hallway, and the man turned left. There was a closed door on the right, but the man instead opened the one on the left.

It was the master bedroom, and Namjoon's heart pounded faster.

A king sized bed, two matching bed side tables on either side, each holding a lamp. Two large windows, also one on each side of the bed, overlooked the backyard as well.

They were little alcoves, and a few small pillows had been set up there to make it look like a cozy reading place. To the right stood a large, walk in closet, and on the left was another door.

A large dog kennel sat beside a dresser.

The man carried Namjoon to the door, nudging it open with his shoulder to reveal a connecting bathroom.

Green tiled floor, large shower with a glass door, a double sink, a separate tub that Namjoon could see was actually a jacuzzi, a large mirror, and a toilet completed the look. 

The man set him down on the fluffy green bath mat that laid in front of the shower, leaning him against the glass door. 

Namjoon shivered at the cold, but at least he was away from the mans body heat. He drew his legs up, stuffing his bound hands between them as he curled in on himself, ducking his head as he tried to pretend he could turn invisible.

The man crouched down in front of him, and Namjoon felt fingers grab his chin, forcing his head up so their eyes met.

It took a few blinks before things could come into better focus, the drug finally wearing out, and then Namjoon could see fully.

The man was younger than he had initially thought- somewhere in his thirties instead of forties, with either messy or curly black hair, and tan skin. His eyes were a striking blue, framed with eyelashes a lot of girls would be jealous over. He had muscles, as made obvious by the way his shirt was tight, the fabric drawn over large biceps and a six pack. He seemed taller than Namjoon, but only by a few inches. His hands were slightly calloused, which Namjoon found out when the man cupped his cheek, his thumb lazily sweeping over the boys cinnamon toned, smooth skin.

"You're so pretty..." the man murmured, his eyes scanning over all of Namjoon's features.

Despite the boy being shirtless, the man's eyes lingered only on his face, taking in Namjoon's auburn, dragon shaped eyes, his button nose, his plush lips- which were trembling slightly from the mans close proximity.

"Can't believe you were hiding this face from the camera all these years." The man continued, his voice deep. "Took fuckin' ages to find you."

He stood up, and Namjoon was finally free to breathe- and that was when the mans words suddenly clicked.

This...this man...was one of his watchers. 

He had seen Namjoon's streams, probably followed him on some social media too.

He must have somehow gotten some of Namjoon's information and found out his real accounts, found out what he looked like, found out where he lived-

Namjoon felt the breath expelled from his lungs in a silent cry of shock.

And now he wasn't scared of dying- now he was scared of something happening that would make him wish he was dead.

All of this...all of this was happening because Namjoon made a porn account three years ago, and someone had gotten obsessed.

A schlik sound snapped Namjoon out of his thoughts, and his heart stuttered when the man held up a pocketknife, the blade gleaming under the lights.

Namjoon backed up instinctively, his back pressing against the glass door, as the man crouched down in front of him again.

The man dropped what else he had been carrying- two small bottles and two towels, one large and one small- and held the knife out, dangerously close to Namjoon's now sweaty neck.

"Don't scream." He whispered. "I don't like loud noises, and no one can hear you anyways. I had these windows replaced with soundproof glass just for this very occasion. Trying to plead with me won't get you anywhere, and I'll just get mad. Understand?"

Namjoon nodded quickly, immediately, desperate to please his captor. He pressed his lips together- half in fear, half to show the man how good and quiet he was being.

The man grinned. "Good boy."

And, oh, Namjoon did not like being called that. Not like this, not by someone who had kidnapped him.

The man grabbed Namjoon's hands, holding them up to line the knife under the rope that bound them together. He sliced through them quickly, and Namjoon clenched his fingers, fighting the urge to do something stupid with his now free hands.

He didn't know where he was, his kidnapper was stronger than him and had a weapon, and the drugs might still be in his system a little. Right now wasn't the time to make an unplanned escape attempt. Now was the time to do exactly as this dangerous, crazy person said and hope he would put the knife away.

The man stood back up, turning his back to Namjoon as he bent over the tub/jacuzzi, turning on the water.

Namjoon watched as he placed his hand under the water, testing the temperature.

He knew this was a test, that the man was waiting to see if Namjoon would get up and run, or scream, or try to attack him, and the student made it a point to stay sitting quietly against the shower door.

As the large basin was filled, the man looked over his shoulder at the frightened boy, a pleased grin on his lips when he saw Namjoon hadn't moved.

"Good boy," he praised, and Namjoon shivered.

The sound of water splashing into the bath was the only sound in the otherwise quiet house.

"Stand up." He commanded, and Namjoon hesitated for a moment, before slowly rising to his feet.

He wavered at first, a little dizzy, but then the moment faded and he was okay.

The man beckoned him over with a finger, and Namjoon's heart pounded loudly, painfully, as he stumbled over, standing in front of the man.

"Take your clothes off."

Namjoon froze, running that sentence over and over again in his mind, trying to find a different meaning in those words.

"Now." The man's tone held a small note of warning.

Namjoon's hands quickly shot to the waistband of his Calvin Klein's, but he couldn't pull them down.

"Namjoon," the man growled, glaring as he rose to his feet and Namjoon could have burst into crazy sobbing if he wasn't still frozen. "Take off your fucking clothes."

This man had seen his streams, he had seen Namjoon's videos. All of his toys, his teasing, he had seen him masturbating. Technically, Namjoon shouldn't even care that the man was seeing him naked once more, but in this case, he cared very much.

But he cared more about the knife the man still held than about his dignity.

He slowly pushed the boxers down, looking away as tears pricked his eyes.

"Step out of them."

Namjoon did, his hands covering himself as he stood naked before his kidnapper.

"Sit down. Back against the tub."

Namjoon quickly dropped, leaning against the shiny white wall of the bath, his hands still protecting his modesty as he drew his legs up again, pressing his thighs together.

The man didn't seem to care about that as he picked up one of the bottle's, a pink one that Namjoon had used before.

Hair remover.

The man flicked the cap open and squirted some of the white lotion onto his palm.

It smelled, and Namjoon's heart quickened as he tried not to sob.

The man reached his clean hand out and grabbed Namjoon's ankle, yanking his leg out straight.

Namjoon bit his lip to hold back a cry, watching as the man smeared the cold cream over his shin, his knee, up his thigh.

Namjoon tensed as the hand roamed over his thigh, especially when it ducked under to get the other side, but the man didn't seem to be interested in touching the boys cock.

At least, not yet.

He did the same to the other leg before commanding the boy to raise his arms.

Namjoon did, shaking, as he raised them above his head.

He pressed his thighs together tighter, trembling as the man advanced.

The man rubbed some more of the stuff on the students arms, smearing the cold and chemically scented lotion over Namjoon's armpits, making the boy squirm.

The man sat back, and Namjoon thought it was over, until the next command came.

"Now spread your legs."