DAH Ch 18

“…”

His gaze lingered on Yoonhae, who looked not just fine but downright healthy. Honestly, it was astonishing that he could appear this unscathed after being hit by a car. Recovering as if nothing had happened, without even a trip to the hospital, he didn’t seem human.

After a brief glance, Jungjoon headed to the kitchen. Pouring coffee from the remaining pot, he stepped into the living room. The sofa was as large as the spacious room itself, but unwilling to sit in the same spot, he approached the window instead.

He swallowed a bitter sip of coffee down his throat. Holding the warm mug with both hands, he gazed out at the forest stretching before him, shrouded in mist. The raw, untouched nature—where a wild animal’s appearance wouldn’t be surprising—made him keenly aware of how completely detached this place was from the outside world.

How long do I have to stay here? The sudden question quietly shook Jungjoon. The more seriously he pondered it, the more it felt like the ground beneath his feet was slipping away into an abyss.

Inside the villa, it was just him and Yoonhae; outside, a few gangsters guarded the exits—a truly suffocating existence. Had he known it would come to this, he wouldn’t have fled so recklessly back then. Chewing over his impulsive actions, he’d already regretted them hundreds of times. If he’d truly meant to escape, he should’ve been far more meticulous, cautious, and above all, chosen a decisive moment.

“…”

Lost in thought, Jungjoon unconsciously stared at one spot. Finally, lowering his reddened eyes, he forced himself to drink from the coffee he held.

He realized that figuring out a way to return would be his task moving forward. He had to be near his child somehow, had to return to society somehow. He needed to regain his strength and take his child back.

What was Ian doing right now? Was he eating properly? Was he crying…? Thoughts of his child wouldn’t leave him. The fact that he couldn’t see him remained unchanged, but the physical distance, now several times greater than before, gnawed at him with anxiety. And that wasn’t all. With no job to go to or community to belong to anymore, leaving the city intensified his sense of disconnection and isolation.

“Let’s eat.”

Startled, Jungjoon turned to see Yoonhae standing there.

“…What?”

Jungjoon’s face paled in an instant as he asked back. Their gazes locked in midair.

“…Let’s eat.”

With a clearly suppressed expression, Yoonhae turned away.

“…”

Jungjoon blankly followed his retreating figure with his eyes. Barely suppressing an instinct to avoid him, he took a step forward, tracing Yoonhae’s path into the kitchen.

The table was already laden with a full spread. The side dishes and soup were brought by Yoonhae’s subordinates, with different menus appearing at every meal. In a place where delivery wasn’t an option, procuring such food was their underlings’ job. The thought of wasting energy and manpower on this made Jungjoon feel more than just awkward—ashamed—each time they delivered necessities and food.

They must have their own questions. Locking up a guy like him in a villa was bizarre enough, but guarding him to prevent escape? From Jungjoon’s perspective, these gangsters were intimidating, but to them, he was likely the unsettling one. They followed their boss’s orders reluctantly, perhaps thinking he was unhinged.

“Eat.”

With the command, Yoonhae began eating. Though Jungjoon had no appetite, he sat and forced down a spoonful. He couldn’t skip meals if he wanted to build his strength.

The only sound was the quiet clinking of dishes. Swallowing reluctantly, the food turned out to be decent once he started. As he’d noted before, the side dishes were remarkably clean-tasting—not overly seasoned like restaurant food, more like home cooking.

Near the end, however, an unexpected roar interrupted the meal. It was the sound of Yoonhae sweeping all the dishes off the table onto the floor.

“…”

Jungjoon froze, chopsticks in hand. He stared down at the suddenly empty table. On the floor, shattered dishes mingled with spilled food, creating a chaotic mess.

Two reddened eyes glared at him. A piercing, almost predatory stare. The moment their eyes met, a chill ran from the back of his neck down his spine. He couldn’t move a finger. Like facing a beast ready to pounce, Jungjoon swallowed hard.

Yoonhae, after glaring fiercely, abruptly stood. Leaving the rigid Jungjoon and the wrecked kitchen behind, he strode out.

Even after he left, Jungjoon couldn’t move. His startled heart wouldn’t calm. After a while, dazed, he finally regained his senses and began cleaning up.

Sweeping the broken dishes into a pile, he sank into thought. Amid the jagged, glinting shards, he recalled his own past actions.

He’d done something similar to Yoonhae once. Unable to contain his rage, he’d thrown whatever he could grab, and even then, his anger hadn’t subsided.

He didn’t regret those actions now, but experiencing the same treatment left him with an odd feeling. Perhaps he’d belatedly realized the ripple effect of such outbursts. Of course, back then, it had felt entirely justified… Reflecting from the center of a devastated living room, he couldn’t say there was nothing to reconsider.

Cleaning up the bitter aftertaste of violence along with the shards, he emerged to an empty living room. In the vast villa spanning from basement to third floor, he had no idea where Yoonhae had gone.

Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, he sank onto the sofa. He lacked the strength to climb upstairs, as if he’d walked for hours.

“Haah…”

Lowering his gaze, a book caught his eye. Reaching for it, he recognized it as a famous one—a classic of Western literature. Opening it reflexively, despite lacking interest, he landed on a quoted poem.

Creator, did I request thee to mold me from clay into a man? Did I plead to be drawn from the darkness?

Reading the short passage, he snapped the book shut. The bleak words lodged in his mind, refusing to fade, and Jungjoon sat frozen, staring into space.

Only after a while did he shake off the strange feeling and stand. Heading upstairs to the second floor, he entered his room and tried to sleep, but despite his weary body, his nerves stayed on edge, forcing him back up.

Wandering the room aimlessly before stepping out, he figured a lack of exercise was making his thoughts run wild.

He roamed the entire villa. Entering rooms he’d never visited, he peeked around, wondering if Yoonhae might have left for work.

It’d be better if he had. Better still if he didn’t return for a week on some trip… With that thought, he approached the back door and peered outside.

Just then, his eyes met those of a gangster standing guard. Jungjoon gave an awkward smile and a slight bow. The man, looking startled, nodded back. Turning away to show he had no intent to leave, Jungjoon walked down the hall.

His steps halted when he spotted stairs leading downward.

“…”

Come to think of it, he grew curious about the villa’s basement. The longer he peered down, the more his curiosity grew, and with nothing else to do, he cautiously descended.

Reaching the bottom, a hallway with black carpeting stretched before him. Loud music leaked from somewhere, accompanied by a repetitive bang, bang sound.

It seemed Yoonhae had been spending his time down here all along. Realizing this, Jungjoon felt an urge to retreat. But alongside that impulse came an equal concern about what he was doing—and, above all, a strong curiosity.

After brief hesitation, he moved forward. Walking the hall, he glanced into the rooms lining it. There was a movie room, a screen golf area, and a billiards room. He wanted to explore inside, but his current goal took precedence. Silencing his footsteps, he approached the source of the noise at the end.

Peeking through the open door, Yoonhae came into view. He was hitting a punching bag. His face was drenched in sweat—how long had he been at it?—and his bare torso glistened with moisture.

He swung relentlessly, without pause. It wasn’t exercise—it was violence, devoid of rhythm or breath, exuding only raw aggression.

“…”

Watching, Jungjoon turned away. A sudden urge to leave struck him like a premonition. Intent on exiting quickly, he pivoted, but his tense legs stiffened, unlike when he’d descended.

“…What’s wrong?”

A voice shot from behind. Hearing ragged breaths, Jungjoon froze.

“…”

Unable to answer, the question came again.

“What’s wrong?”

Still not turning, Jungjoon shook his head. “No…” he muttered shortly, like a whisper to himself, his eyes darting. Embarrassment surged, tangling his thoughts on what to do.

He sensed movement approaching from behind. Soon, Yoonhae stood before him, looking down as if inspecting Jungjoon’s face. His gaze lingered on Jungjoon’s awkwardly blank expression.

Jungjoon couldn’t meet his eyes for a long while. Why was he so tense? Perhaps it was the aftermath of the earlier outburst at the table. Or maybe he’d frozen pathetically before Yoonhae’s killing intent moments ago.

“Look at me when you talk.”

At the sharp prompt, Jungjoon reflexively raised his eyes. But they dropped again quickly. A dry chuckle escaped Yoonhae’s nose. In contrast to Jungjoon’s rigidity, Yoonhae casually wiped sweat from his face with relaxed movements.

Jungjoon stared at the bulging muscles. Absently gazing, he tore his eyes from the abdomen rising and falling with each breath. The last thing his vision caught was a bead of sweat trailing down Yoonhae’s oblique muscles.

“…”

His breath wouldn’t deepen. It hovered shallowly in his chest. Feeling it shorten, an inexplicable urgency arose. This spot felt unbearable. Following the thought to leave, he brushed past Yoonhae. But his arm was grabbed, pulling him back. In an instant, Yoonhae lowered his head.

Dodging lips that nearly touched, Jungjoon gripped Yoonhae’s shoulders.

“…We…!”

Before grasping what had just happened, words burst from Jungjoon’s mouth unbidden.

“…We?”

Yoonhae’s breath poured over Jungjoon’s jawline.

“We…”

“…”

“When are we going back? When can I leave this place?”

The question he most wanted to ask spilled out unexpectedly.

“…”

Yoonhae pulled his clinging body away. In the brief gap, Jungjoon lowered his head. His stifled breath still caught in his chest. He swallowed dryly.

Silence lingered, and Yoonhae, as always, answered with silence and stares. His habit of clamming up whenever it suited him drained Jungjoon’s patience.

“…How long do I have to be trapped here?”

He pressed with a trembling voice.

“Why ask that?”

“…”

“Does it have to have a deadline?”

The deflating response followed. Jungjoon lifted his head, meeting his eyes.

“A deadline… yeah, there should be a deadline.”

His lips twitched involuntarily.

“Oh… right.”

Yoonhae suddenly rolled his eyes, as if reconsidering.

“You’re right. Now that I think about it, there should be a deadline.”

How long would be good…? He rubbed his mouth, feigning contemplation.

“How long do you want?”

Jungjoon blinked his stinging eyes. He couldn’t think of a reply—nothing came to mind. He knew Yoonhae wasn’t asking sincerely, but in this situation, Jungjoon was the desperate one.

“Anytime… as soon as possible would be best.”

As Jungjoon answered, Yoonhae nodded with an “Ahh…”

“As soon as possible?”

He echoed with an understanding look.

“Then how about this?”

Lightly, like a suggestion.

“Until you love me.”

Until you love me, he’d said. Jungjoon doubted his ears as he mulled it over.

“Until you suck my dick first… wet it and stick it in your hole… ride me and grind on top.”

“…”

“Until you squirt cum and piss like crazy… and still spread your legs begging for more.”

After a brief silence, he wet his dry lips. For some reason, he let out an incredulous scoff. His body shook once, sweat dripping from him.

Maybe it was his imagination, but facing this, Jungjoon thought he smelled something. Something animalistic, primal—like a male’s luring pheromones.

His vision narrowed, his sight blurred. A strange sense of danger. An anxious hypnosis, eyes open yet entranced. A bizarre pressure that he might strip at Yoonhae’s gesture, kneel against his will, and take that engorged symbol into his mouth. Realizing this inexplicable subservience, Jungjoon recoiled in terror.

His shoulders to fingertips trembled. Unable to shift his eyes anywhere, the pale, horrified Jungjoon awaited Yoonhae’s next words.

“…”

But no command came. Yoonhae, who seemed poised to hold him there forever, abruptly averted his gaze and brushed past first.

His footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs, fading away. After standing in place for a while, Jungjoon slowly turned to follow. But the moment he stepped onto the stairs, his legs gave out, and he stumbled.

Back in his room, he lay like someone exhausted. Pulling the covers over himself, he tried to sleep, hoping to organize his mind and recover strength.

Recalling the earlier moment sent a chill through him. Could that be the difference between a beta and an alpha? Do alphas have such distinct power over regular people? The moment he’d shrunk so pathetically replayed in his head.

On reflection, it might not be about betas or alphas but simply because Yoonhae was a gangster. Traits and occupation aside, it was natural for an ordinary person like Jungjoon to fear someone who dominated others. Especially in this confined state with a weakened body—it might be entirely instinctive…

The odd trembling wouldn’t stop, leaving him shivering for a while. Eventually, exhaustion pulled him into sleep, and he woke in the late afternoon.

Rain fell outside.

“…”

Staring endlessly at the falling drops, Jungjoon sank into thought. The weather easily unearthed buried memories, like rain washing away dirt and dust. Dazed and lost, an inescapable gloom settled in.

“Jungjoon-ah. Living’s really fun for me.”

“People ask what’s so great about living like this, but I’m genuinely thankful every day just to have something I can do.”

“When I was a kid, I didn’t have food to eat, clothes to wear, or a room to sleep in. But look at me now—how abundant it is.”

“From here on, it’ll only get better. For you and me both.”

The person who’d said that was no longer in this world. A generous soul who claimed things would only improve, no matter the situation. Yet, it took just four short months for that person to end their own life.

Jungjoon first met Jinwon hyung while bouncing between jobs, starting as a day laborer in construction. He was like a life mentor. At work and beyond, he always offered Jungjoon good lessons and was the only one to treat him warmly.

Always positive, he never lost his smile, even in tough times. His life’s turning point came too suddenly. One unforeseen day, an industrial accident permanently robbed him of one leg’s function, turning him into a disabled man overnight.

The compensation was pitiful, and losing the ability to work dealt a fatal blow. By the time he came to, he was beyond recovery. Each time Jungjoon visited, he’d smile with a pale face, wasting away. Then one day, he returned to the accident site and jumped.

It was a rainy day.

His body was found the next day after the rain stopped. Colleagues, including Jungjoon, who’d worked with him, discovered it.

From that day, much changed within Jungjoon. No matter where he went or what he did, resignation and sorrow settled at his core, never fading. Like shallowly buried soil, seeing someone like him, passing a construction site, or watching raindrops on days like this easily brought that day back.

He couldn’t forget Jinwon hyung’s body, lying like a dead earthworm after the rain. He couldn’t believe such a good person had died so painfully and pitifully.

Unable to let go of old memories, Jungjoon stepped out from the room’s corner where he’d been lost in a daze. He had to shake off this bottomless sinking feeling.

Down in the living room, Yoonhae was nowhere to be seen. Relieved by the absence of presence, he went to the kitchen and heated water. Just holding the hot cup seemed to ease his chilled chest a little. Rubbing his eyes with warmed palms a few times, then—

BANG—!

A sudden noise startled him, making his back tremble. What’s that? Jungjoon stood.

Peering past the covered wall in alert mode, he saw the source. Soaked through, Yoonhae stood there. A massive figure on the back door’s mat, head bowed. His waterlogged hair and clothes looked dark as ink.

“…What…”

Wide-eyed, Jungjoon stared at the sight. Snapping to, he grabbed a large towel from the nearby bathroom.

Yoonhae didn’t take the offered towel, just stared blankly down. With no choice, Jungjoon unfolded it and draped it over his wet head.

“…”

He had no idea what was going on. Like a beast that’d wandered the mountains and gotten drenched. Standing like a ghost, his focus seemed gone. It was hard to believe this was the same person exuding killing intent hours ago.

“Uh… why don’t you come in…?”

No one could stay fine after getting soaked in this weather. Honestly, he wanted to ignore it, but it was hard to in this state.

“Your face is pale… Should I fill the tub…?”

Asking cautiously, Yoonhae lifted his head. Between disheveled, wet strands, his eyes emerged—dark and glossy, as if soaked in rain too.

Sensing an odd vibe, Jungjoon turned to leave. But before he could fully pivot, Yoonhae grabbed both his shoulders.

“…Wha…!”

The grip was strong. His brows furrowed, spine tensing.

“What’re you doing…!”

Jungjoon tried pushing him off with both hands. But it wasn’t enough. Yoonhae’s hands slid down, pulling Jungjoon’s waist close. Burying his face in Jungjoon’s neck, he inhaled. The cold bridge of his nose pressed into Jungjoon’s collarbone, raising goosebumps.

“Ugh…!”

It was cold yet hot. Jungjoon struggled to peel him off. The force to separate clashed with the force to cling, their tangled bodies staggering. Thud, thud, thud…—they bumped into walls, consoles, frames, and decorations, stumbling inside.

Tripping over the sofa, they fell, collapsing together in a heap.

“Let go…!”

Jungjoon shouted. Rainwater seeping from Yoonhae chilled him. Wet and clammy, every touching part was soon drenched.

“Haah…”

Pinning him down, Yoonhae exhaled heavily, lifting Jungjoon’s hand. He took the fingers into his mouth and sucked. Starting with the index, he enveloped each one with his tongue and lips, sucking hard, twisting his head.

Smack—!

Unable to bear the disgust, Jungjoon struck him. Trying to escape, his hair was grabbed. Yoonhae pulled him back onto the sofa, dragging his face downward. Unbuckling with one hand, he pulled down his pants, revealing an erect penis.

“Hngh…!”

He thrust the hot flesh near Jungjoon’s face. Jungjoon strained his neck to avoid it. The penis twitched on its own, brushing his nose and lips. Precum dripped from the slit. Closing his eyes tight, it fell onto his lashes, trailing a clear thread down his cheekbone.

“Suck it.”

Yoonhae ordered.

“Wet it thoroughly, even this.”

He grabbed his scrotum as he spoke.

“…”

When Jungjoon didn’t start, Yoonhae gripped his penis and lowered it. Aiming at Jungjoon’s closed lips, he rubbed it. Forcing Jungjoon’s mouth open, the glans entered. Swollen and slick, it grazed his tongue. Yoonhae’s scent stabbed his nose.

He didn’t want to do it for even a second. He’d never even done this with his wife, let alone another man—especially one he loathed.

Gagging noises mixed with the friction of his mouth. It couldn’t even be called affection—just enduring revulsion while holding it. It was careless, passive, and utterly clumsy. Yet even this mere rubbing against his distorted lips and stiff tongue made the penis throb incessantly.

“…!”

Yoonhae thrust his hips hard. The thick, long shaft lodged in Jungjoon’s throat instantly. His breath caught, eyes stinging.

“Urk…!”

The penis moved in and out like penetration. Tears flowed and saliva leaked from the relentless jabbing at his tender throat. Unconsciously, Jungjoon grabbed Yoonhae’s hand holding his hair—an instinctive plea to stop.

His blood-rushed face flushed red. When the penis finally withdrew, his face was a mess of tears, snot, and drool. Saliva pooled on the floor beneath his chin. His numb mouth felt ruined.

“…”

Relief of survival slumped his body. Without pause, eager hands stripped him. Too drained to resist, Jungjoon went limp. In a few blinks, he was naked and dragged onto the sofa. Yoonhae shed his wet clothes with rough tugs and climbed atop—this time, reversed.

“Hup…!”

The penis entered his defenseless, gaping mouth. His ribcage swelled, limbs tensing. Gack—each thrust scraped his throat. The scrotum pressed against his face, the smell overwhelming. He wanted to vomit.

“Guhk…!”

Reflexively, his jaw jutted up—to somehow take it easier. From the prior ordeal, his body learned to lessen the pain. He struggled not to gag, to breathe properly.

Relaxing his throat, he took it in. Breathing through his nose, he opened his jaw wide. The horror of trying to accommodate it was unbearable. Meanwhile, Yoonhae pounded it in roughly while sucking Jungjoon’s penis—shaking his head side to side, up and down, diligently.

“Hahp…, ahp…!”

He felt like a gaping machine. Just as he thought he might pass out, the penis withdrew. Yoonhae lifted Jungjoon’s legs, spreading his cheeks to stare at his anus. As if never tiring of it, he exhaled hot breath inside.

After observing, he circled it with his thumb. Rubbing from the perineum with his index and middle fingers, he inserted them up to two knuckles. Repeating the motion, he later added his ring finger—three fingers, up to three knuckles.

He withdrew them and inserted his tongue. The position was bizarre, like acrobatics. A large man with legs spread and bent back, and an even larger man upside-down, face buried in the exposed ass—tonguing it grotesquely.

“S-Stop…!”

Jungjoon twisted his hips and buttocks. Yoonhae clung, following, unrelenting. He thrust his tongue in and sucked, shifting his jaw to kiss it.

“Stop it, I said!”

Ignoring Jungjoon’s shouts, Yoonhae stood. Pressing Jungjoon’s bent thighs down hard, he sat, driving his penis into the hole. Pounded it in was more accurate.

A position where he sat, penetrating a half-folded man. His bulky frame and rock-hard muscles amplified the discomfort. The odd pose grew odder, his waist straining under the weight.

Each thrust crushed Jungjoon’s folded body. His shaking arms fell off the sofa. Clawing the leather sides to endure the weight and intrusion, Yoonhae’s leg braced the floor, calf muscles bulging.

The scrotum slapped heavily with each thrust. Yoonhae’s hands gripped Jungjoon’s thighs tighter. He groaned, scraping Jungjoon’s insides. The deep intrusion churned his stomach. He could picture the penis’s shape moving in and out.

“If someone… sees, please…!”

Jungjoon covered his eyes and cried out. He felt like weeping. He feared Yoonhae’s men might pass by the window. Yoonhae pulled out abruptly, turned, and hoisted Jungjoon up. Dragging him forcibly, he took him to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking outside.

“What…!”

Yoonhae pressed Jungjoon against the glass and thrust in from behind again. Thud, thud—Jungjoon’s flattened thighs hit the glass. His faintly swollen penis squashed against the cold surface.

“Worried someone might see?”

So what? Let them watch, Yoonhae said, pressing his lips to Jungjoon’s pulsing temple.

“They think you’re my real brother.”

What did that mean? Jungjoon’s eyes darted.

“They think you’re a sibling I lost as a kid…”

Do we look alike? He added with a dry laugh.

“They must be bored—let them watch brothers fuck.”

Saying this, he wrapped a hand around Jungjoon’s nape. With the other, he gripped his pelvis, thrusting rhythmically from core to pubis.

“Ahk…!”

Jungjoon bit his lip to stifle moans. If we’re caught, it’s over, was all he could think. It wouldn’t just be awkward—it’d be shock, disgust, or worse.

He buried his face in his arm against the glass. Please, let no one come this way. His prostate stimulated, he hardened against his will. The taut penis pressed against the glass. His rear burned hot while his front chilled against the cold pane.

Enduring the thrusts, his front rubbed too, reaching climax. As it released, murky fluid streaked the window. Eyes shut tight against the fishy nausea.

“Put your arms around my neck. Legs around my waist.”

Yoonhae lifted Jungjoon, joining them acrobatically. To not fall, Jungjoon had no choice but to comply. He wrapped his legs around the solid waist, pressed his chest close, and looped his arms behind Yoonhae’s neck. Large hands supported Jungjoon’s tensed thighs.

Thwack, thwack, thwack…!

The friction echoed through the high-ceilinged living room. The acrobatics continued. Slick, tense bodies collided fiercely. After pounding while holding him, Yoonhae carried Jungjoon to a cabinet. Sweeping off decorations, he set Jungjoon atop and thrust again, groaning roughly.

He roamed the living room, repeating it. Placing Jungjoon on anything—table, sink, cabinet, piano, armchair—and thrusting. Yoonhae came a few times, while Jungjoon, after one release, stayed half-erect, swaying. Even when Yoonhae gripped and shook it, only a dull pressure built.

Carrying Jungjoon, Yoonhae walked the hall. Jungjoon tried to walk himself, but it didn’t work. Yoonhae stubbornly gripped his thighs, lifting him again. Leaning him against walls, he thrust upward—relentless penetration.

“Ah…!”

Pausing mid-stair climb, Yoonhae moaned. Setting Jungjoon on the railing, he thrust in a precarious pose, lost in the rhythm. He bit Jungjoon’s neck as if to devour it, gripping his buttocks painfully hard.

Jungjoon’s hands felt Yoonhae’s shoulder muscles tense and harden. Frothy fluids bubbled at their junction, dripping. Another climax, it seemed—how many times had he spilled on the floor? Thinking of cleaning it gave him a headache.

“Please, stop now…”

Jungjoon muttered, exhausted. Tangled like one body, he didn’t know how long this would go. His entire body was soaked in sweat, scalp drenched, hair limp. Even with less muscle and fat than before, it was staggering that Yoonhae could carry a man over 180cm so tirelessly. His monstrous stamina was jaw-dropping.

His perverse tendencies were beyond comprehension. A past friend’s words—that he got far more excited outside the bedroom—came to mind; it seemed similar. Plus, a hint of exhibitionism. In short, he appeared aroused by abnormal situations and acts.

…That’s probably why he’s obsessed with me.

It wasn’t even funny. As Jungjoon panted in exhaustion, Yoonhae lowered his head. Their lips met. Wet lips touched lightly and parted. Come to think of it, this kind of kissing felt rare lately.

Reaching the top, Yoonhae set Jungjoon down. Facing each other, they sank into kissing. He pulled Jungjoon’s waist close, raking through wet hair, delving deeper. Tilting his head, he mingled their tongues more. Jungjoon pushed to break free, but Yoonhae’s hands pulled him back, thwarting him. Thud, thud—bumping walls, they crossed the hall. Soon, they tangled into the bedroom where Jungjoon slept.

Flopping onto the bed, Yoonhae climbed atop and thrust in immediately.

“…Feels so good…”

He shuddered with a groan. Jungjoon closed his eyes. How much more until it ends? He felt as if he’d done nothing but this for days.

“You like it too…? Huh…? Am I the only one…?”

Annoyed by the question, Jungjoon twisted his head. For some reason, Yoonhae laughed. A low rumble from his thick throat vibrated the air. Lifting one of Jungjoon’s legs, he slowly slid his swollen penis in and out—as if savoring every fold of the wet inner walls.

“Ha…”

Jungjoon’s thighs twitched and trembled. It was strange. The low groan Yoonhae let out as he withdrew his penis sent a shiver through Jungjoon. Or perhaps it was the penis rubbing inside his stomach that caused it. Goosebumps spread from the nape of his neck across his shoulders and down his spine.

“Ah…!”

Maybe something had changed there too. Yoonhae’s moans mixed with heavy breaths.

“Ugh…”

Exhaustion made it hard to even open his eyes. Yet, for some reason, his senses had sharpened—it was inexplicable. Was it because his reason and consciousness had been half-blurred by fatigue? Or because entering this enclosed space brought a sense of relief? Or had he simply grown accustomed to the foreign sensation of something moving in and out?

Each time it thrust in and pulled out, something shifted. The foreign feeling faded, replaced by a growing intensity of another sensation. The ridged surface of the penis kept brushing against something inside his stomach. The repetitive act naturally stirred a physiological restlessness.

“Hng…!”

Jungjoon bit his lip. He struggled to suppress this unidentified sensation. He tried to raise his arms to cover his face, but they were restrained. Yoonhae lifted both of Jungjoon’s hands, pinning them with one of his own to expose Jungjoon’s armpits. Then he began moving more dynamically. His remaining large hand slid from Jungjoon’s side down to his thighs. The electrifying touch flustered Jungjoon, and he thrashed violently without realizing it.

“S-Stop…! Stop…!”

His heart pounded as if seizing. He felt like he was being swept away by something terrifying. Seeing Jungjoon’s grave expression, Yoonhae paused. He quietly observed Jungjoon’s complexion, as if checking what was wrong. Jungjoon panted heavily. Suddenly overwhelmed by shame, he pushed Yoonhae away and tried to climb off the bed, but he was grabbed immediately.

“Where are you going?”

Catching him, Yoonhae pressed Jungjoon back onto the bed. As Jungjoon resisted, Yoonhae bound his arms behind his back like a prisoner. Then he thrust his penis in again. It plunged to the hilt into the slightly closed opening in one go. The physical shock made veins bulge in Jungjoon’s neck.

As the pain spread, the emotion that followed was oddly relief. This position, where he no longer had to face Yoonhae, reassured him. But that thin sliver of relief didn’t last long. As the slick back-and-forth motion began, the anxious feeling surged back.

“Hn, ngh…!”

The sound of friction grew wet. It was because the inside had become mushy. Unlike the initial stiffness, it was now completely relaxed—hot and sticky. He could even feel it clinging to the penis moving in and out.

“Ha…”

Sensing it, Yoonhae groaned. Jungjoon felt his gaze looking down at their joined parts, even without seeing it. Along with the spreading goosebumps, a scorching heat flared from his ears to the back of his neck.

The squelching, sloshing friction continued. The swollen penis crushed his inner walls, and Yoonhae’s heavy lower body pressed down on Jungjoon’s buttocks. Each thwack, thwack jolt sent a tingling shock through the back of his head. Realizing an unacceptable physical change, Jungjoon was gripped by fear. Instinctively, he let out a whimpering cry and tried to escape, scrambling downward.

“No…!”

It was like a survival instinct. He had to get away. His senses screamed it fiercely.

“S-Stop…!”

As he thrashed to push him off, Yoonhae pinned him down with force. A powerful grip seized Jungjoon’s crown and shoved his face into the pillow. Suppressing his entire body, Yoonhae raised his hips high and slammed down. He pounded with such ferocity—seemingly intent on breaking Jungjoon—that it was impossible to fathom where such strength came from. Hard and fast. As if he’d drive him into the ground, he hammered his hips relentlessly.

Rattle, rattle, rattle—the nightstand beside the bed shook, lamps and objects tumbling off. The vibration was terrifyingly intense. The bed’s creaking sounded like an earthquake collapsing the earth, like the world itself was crumbling.

“Ah…!!!”

Yoonhae’s shout and Jungjoon’s muffled groan from the pillow erupted simultaneously. Electricity shot to his toes, stretching his legs straight. Jungjoon’s slightly lifted hips trembled uncontrollably while prone. Even after reaching the peak, the overwhelming sensation lingered unabated.

Yoonhae flipped the convulsing Jungjoon over. Looking down at his face, he kissed him. A filthy, sloppy kiss. A kiss that ravaged his mouth as the penis ravaged below. Tears streamed from Jungjoon’s eyes. Gazing into his unfocused pupils, Yoonhae licked his face tenderly.

“Delicious…”

Whispering, he slipped a finger into Jungjoon’s open mouth.

“You’re delicious, hyung…”

His thick thumb rubbed Jungjoon’s tongue. The penis slid between Jungjoon’s still-twitching legs, probing the slick interior. It moved slowly, grinding inside.

“Haa…”

The pleasure from the prior release had loosened his tongue. He lay there, mouth agape, letting the finger toy with it. Yoonhae groaned as he rubbed inside Jungjoon’s mouth. Jungjoon’s legs hung over Yoonhae’s thighs, which knelt outward. Jungjoon’s hips lifted upward. The climax came faster than before. Each time the thick finger in his mouth and the hefty penis below scraped his tender flesh, he couldn’t bear it. Tears flowed as if in agony.

“Ah…! Ahh…! Ngh…!”

The moans didn’t feel like his own. Low and hoarse, yet somehow not masculine—heightened. His facial muscles were beyond control, twisting grotesquely. As if craving something, his lower body tightened, hips jerking.

Please.

Please.

Stop.

To Jungjoon, sex wasn’t like this. Not this uncontrollable state. This unprecedented situation was horrific.

His heated mouth tasted cloyingly sweet. His entire oral cavity felt like an erogenous zone, hypersensitive. His head and vision blurred. Somehow, quickly, anything… As he thought this, Yoonhae’s face loomed close. He stared down at Jungjoon intently.

“…”

Only then did Jungjoon feel a wave of self-awareness and shame. He realized he’d been unconsciously sucking Yoonhae’s finger in his mouth.

Shock crashed through the pleasure. Through tear-blurred vision, he saw himself gazing up at Yoonhae as if yearning. Panicked, Jungjoon covered Yoonhae’s face and tried to push him away with his palm. But between his fingers, Yoonhae’s eyes peeked through. Those focused, observing pupils chilled him like a lens.

“Ngh…!!”

Yoonhae shoved his penis into the resisting Jungjoon. His finger pressed Jungjoon’s tongue. His lips distorted, saliva leaking. From then, the friction grew rough. As Yoonhae neared climax, thick veins bulged across his forehead. Following the fierce thrusts, Jungjoon too reached the peak in an instant.

“Ah…!!”

His hips lifted, a cry of awe bursting out. His body, soaring midair, pressed against Yoonhae’s abdomen. His penis touched it. Another surge followed the cascading climax. It rubbed against the taut muscles, semen erupting onto Yoonhae’s abdomen and chest.

For a moment, his mind went blank. In that state, Yoonhae thrust once more, hard. His startled body clenched, and liquid spurted from his penis. After the bizarre release, his lower body and then his whole frame shuddered.

For a few seconds, he forgot who he was and where he was. That’s how intense the pleasure was. After the massive wave dwarfing the last, his floating body sank. Like being swept by a tsunami, he trembled in shock for moments before slowly settling.

The palm supporting his hips registered belatedly. Realizing what had passed, a steep plunge of despair hit.

Plip, plop… The quiet sound of rain reached him. It must’ve been falling all along, but only now did he hear it. The patter on the building’s roof mingled with their ragged breaths. Jungjoon blinked his damp eyelashes. He hadn’t the strength to move a finger.

“Until you love me, hyung.”

“Until you suck my dick first… wet it and put it in your hole… grind on top of me.”

“Until you squirt cum and piss like crazy… and still spread your legs begging for more.”

Yoonhae’s vile words flashed through his mind. Nausea rose, but no vomit came. Amid searing self-loathing, his flesh still quivered with pleasure’s afterglow. It trembled purely with joy, unspeakable parts contracting and relaxing repeatedly.

Yoonhae pulled Jungjoon into an embrace, muttering something. His low whispers dripped with elated pleasure. Still caught in the climax, his words were all grotesque filth. Worse was how Jungjoon’s body responded to his murmurs and caressing afterplay.

He stroked Jungjoon’s body, praising it for enduring him so long. Powerless to resist, Jungjoon closed his eyes. It felt like drowning—distant. His strangely changing body felt alien and terrifying, choking him.

⟡˖ ࣪

It was after a mechanical lunch. As Jungjoon cleared the dishes, a weight pressed against his back. Feeling the entwining body heat, he flinched and pulled away in shock.

“…Did I startle you?”

Yoonhae’s eyes and lips carried a subtle smile as he asked.

“…”

Staring blankly, Jungjoon passed him without expression. Avoiding him, he left the kitchen, crossed the vast living room, and climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Every spot in sight revived memories of their entanglement, making him want to retch.

“Haa…”

Entering his room and closing the door, a sigh escaped. Leaning against it, Jungjoon slid to the floor, eyes shut.

Rubbing his face, he took deep breaths. It’s nothing. Just an accident. I can go back. I can forget. Repeating this to himself, he tried to regain composure.

But it was as futile as trying not to breathe. What had happened was seared into his flesh like a brand. The memories, vivid through all senses, wouldn’t fade.

If he could, Jungjoon would carve out that day’s memory. The self-destructive thoughts haunting him since made breathing painful. Meanwhile, Yoonhae’s demeanor softened, as if he’d never raged—a drastic shift that tormented Jungjoon further.

He hadn’t changed since childhood. After being caught fleeing, he’d lash out furiously, tormenting others, only to transform after sex that day. Defy him, and he’d wreak havoc; satisfy his desires, and he’d calm instantly. That shudderingly simple, capricious behavior was unchanged from youth. It revealed how little he’d matured mentally over the years.

A child’s mind trapped in a grown man’s body.

The thought repulsed him first. His shoulders shivered at the unaccustomed dissonance. The physical acts between them felt newly impossible—like committing something forbidden with a child, horrifying.

Knock, knock.

A tap on the door jolted his shoulders.

“Can I come in?”

Hearing Yoonhae’s voice, his heart sank.

“…Uh…”

As he stood hesitantly, the door opened. Through the narrow gap, a solid jaw and chest appeared. Turning hastily, Jungjoon fumbled around the desk, pretending to tidy.

“…What were you doing?”

“Just… why, is something up?”

Reacting curtly, Jungjoon felt Yoonhae close in behind. A large, firm hand, like an animal’s shell, wrapped around his abdomen. The sudden closeness stole his breath. His hairs stood on end, and he instinctively swatted the arm away, turning.

“…What’s up?”

His cold reply drew a disappointed look from Yoonhae. Reaching out, Yoonhae caressed Jungjoon’s arm tenderly.

“Just…”

Trailing off tepidly, he lowered his eyes. Behind him was the bed—the one where that breathless act had happened.

“…”

Dizziness struck, and Jungjoon averted his gaze. Growing inexplicably urgent, he grabbed Yoonhae’s body just before it touched.

“I… I want to go out.”

Heat rose where they touched.

“…Now? Suddenly?”

Asking back, Yoonhae stepped closer.

“Where to?”

“Just anywhere… Being cooped up feels suffocating…”

Frowning, Jungjoon dropped his head.

“…Alright…”

Yoonhae paused, as if mulling it over.

“If you’re stifled, want to go fishing?”

Had he timed it for when Yoonhae’s mood softened? Surprised by the immediate consent, Jungjoon’s head shot up.

“Is that okay?”

With a small chuckle, Yoonhae brushed Jungjoon’s cheek with his finger.

“Dress warmly and come down.”

Even after he left, Jungjoon couldn’t move. The affectionate touch and expression lingered, unsettling him. Rubbing his face and neck to shake off the unease, he finally prepared to go out.

An hour’s drive later, they arrived at a quiet riverside. Seeming familiar with it, Yoonhae confidently descended to a spot by the river and set up.

Unfolding two chairs and laying out gear, he finished preparations, finally handling the fishing rod. Tying the line and attaching intricate, unfamiliar devices, he moved with practiced ease.

Jungjoon wasn’t interested in fishing, but watching wasn’t bad. The breeze was gentle, the surroundings quiet. The peaceful rural riverside scenery soothed him. Leaving the confined villa for open air eased his mind.

“…You like fishing, huh?”

Some time after casting their rods, Jungjoon, gazing at the water and mountains, spoke first.

Yoonhae looked down at the rippling river surface, lips moving.

“I do.”

His profile seemed almost at one with the place—unfamiliarly calm and still.

“It’s easy.”

“…”

“You just wait, and they bite.”

He leaned his sturdy upper body forward.

“I’ve learned a lot from fishing.”

Jungjoon’s eyes followed his slackening lips.

“That the harder you push, the less it works.”

“…”

“That you need bait to catch something.”

“…”

“Not to rush, but be gentle… wait patiently.”

His eyes shifted to Jungjoon.

“Man… the idiot who’d jump into the water to catch fish has grown a lot, huh?”

Despite his smile, Jungjoon couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

After that, conversation faded naturally. Jungjoon stared blankly at the water, lost in thought, while Yoonhae waited for bites quietly and expertly.

A bite came to Jungjoon’s rod a while later. Panicking, he reeled it in, and a fish dangled at the line’s end. Its flapping looked pained. Small, almost baby-like, it flustered him more.

Fumbling to free it from the hook, he cut his hand. Releasing it gently into the river, he noticed blood trickling from his index finger.

“Let me see.”

Yoonhae took Jungjoon’s hand, inspecting the cut. Not stopping there, he sucked it abruptly, then wrapped it with a handkerchief from his back pocket.

“Reminds me of old times.”

“…”

“Back when… I was eight, maybe? Remember when I cut my hand?”

“…No.”

Jungjoon replied, watching him tend the wound.

“I was playing with a shard I found on the street and cut myself. You were reading beside me… I stammered, ‘Hyung, look,’ and you just went, ‘Mm,’ without looking.”

“…”

“Only seconds later, seeing blood gushing from my finger, you freaked out and rushed over…”

A chuckle escaped as he touched the wrapped hand.

“The way you turned pale and grabbed my hand was so…”

Pausing, he finished after a moment.

“…memorable.”

His low voice was steeped in nostalgia.

“It’s stuck with me over the years. You, rushing over in a panic.”

Did I do that? Jungjoon couldn’t recall.

“…Yeah, it really stuck with me.”

His solitary musing felt uncomfortable to Jungjoon. The burden of him cherishing a trivial event Jungjoon didn’t even remember weighed on him.

More similar anecdotes followed—unilateral memories, no different from the first. To Jungjoon, they were too petty to have stayed in his mind, long discarded.

Recounting them alone, Yoonhae seemed pleased. The stories were so sparse and simple, it was baffling what joy he found in them. Unimportant moments, insignificant acts Jungjoon had done for him—that was it. Like a child’s treasure box of street trash, messy and pitiful.

The tales stopped when a bite hit Yoonhae’s rod. Jungjoon thought it a relief. Any more, and he might’ve bolted without realizing it.

Fishing continued until dusk turned to early evening. They ate cup ramen midway, then soup. The lack of talk made it peaceful. Boring, but not draining—far more bearable than time in the villa.

Jungjoon’s rod got occasional bites. Each time, he hurriedly reeled in, picturing a fish caught on the hook. Knowing how desperately it fought to live rushed him. Freeing them each time, fishing felt exhausting—not joyful, but a cycle of pointless waiting and empty effort, with boredom and guilt as bonuses.

Luckily, as if sensing his reluctance, bites stopped after a point. Conversely, Yoonhae caught steadily, his bucket soon filled with various fish.

“Shall we head back?”

As evening cooled, Yoonhae suggested leaving. Packing up, he held a waterproof bucket of river water and fish.

“You’re… not releasing them?”

Asking cautiously, Jungjoon got a casual reply.

“Was planning to take them.”

“Oh…” Jungjoon let out a meaningless sound, glancing at the swimming fish. Some looked like carp now that he noticed.

“Why?”

“…No, just… feel bad for them.”

Did he think it sentimental? Yoonhae stood still, looking down at Jungjoon. As Jungjoon was about to brush it off, Yoonhae bent down, pulling fish from the bucket and releasing them into the river—except, for some reason, two carp.

“…”

Yoonhae tilted his head at the suddenly lighter bucket. Jungjoon peered in too. Two carp swam slowly, circling as if chasing each other’s tails.

“Let’s go.”

Yoonhae said, grabbing gear and the bucket, heading up. Without time to ask why he kept two, Jungjoon followed with a folding chair.

In the car, his body shivered from the cold air. Yoonhae turned on the heated seats, glancing at him.

“Hungry?”

“Uh… a bit? But maybe from the ramen and stuff, not too much.”

“Thought of making spicy stew with the catch.”

Jungjoon gave a wry smile.

“Nah, there’s plenty else to eat.”

Cooking what he caught didn’t appeal. If asked how it differed from restaurant food, he’d have no answer… Still, he reaffirmed fishing and hunting weren’t his hobbies.

Buckling up, Jungjoon sneezed suddenly. Chills and a runny nose hit. Searching for tissues, Yoonhae asked,

“Looking for tissue?”

“…Yeah.”

Rummaging the console box fruitlessly, Yoonhae checked the glove compartment, flinching slightly. He frowned, pulling out his hand—blood glistened on his fingertip. Something sharp must’ve been inside.

“No tissues…”

He muttered, sucking the cut.

“Need to blow your nose?”

“…No, that’s not the issue… Let me see your hand.”

Reaching out, Yoonhae showed it. Blood kept flowing. Alarmed, Jungjoon looked for something to staunch it. Nothing suitable appeared—his handkerchief was already soiled with his own blood.

Thinking, Jungjoon shed his jacket, hoodie, and white tee underneath. Using the tee, he wrapped Yoonhae’s hand—clean enough to stop the bleeding.

“Keep it wrapped. Until it stops.”

Yoonhae silently pressed the warm tee Jungjoon had worn against the wound.

“…”

Somehow, he’d ended up half-naked. Realizing late and pulling back, Jungjoon froze. Yoonhae’s hand rested atop his.

“Hey, I’ll drive, so…”

Looking up as he spoke, it was too late. Yoonhae’s eyes blazed at him—clearly demanding something. The moment they met, his spine flared hot. The air turned stifling, a sense of danger spreading.

“Hey… wait…!”

Before finishing, lips crashed onto his. Yoonhae kissed him aggressively, full-bodied. Climbing over, he pinned Jungjoon down. Harsh, wet breaths grazed his ear. His mind blanked. Hands yanking down his pants were urgent—almost violent.

Without time to scream, Yoonhae thrust inside. A frantic, clumsy union followed. Clutching him, Yoonhae reached climax without much movement, panting. The absurdly quick release left Jungjoon stunned. What just happened? It was over before he could process it.

“…Haa…”

Exhaling hotly on his neck, Yoonhae sat up. A growl rumbled from Jungjoon’s stomach—not even hungry. Yoonhae righted the reclined seat, found Jungjoon’s fallen clothes, and dressed him. Using Jungjoon’s tee, still damp from wiping blood, he cleaned the fluids splattered below and around.

“…”

Jungjoon pulled up his crumpled pants himself. Fixing his hastily yanked-down underwear and adjusting himself, he felt indescribable. The vague discomfort at his groin and the inner twitching fueled it further.

The car ride back was heavy with silence. Only Jungjoon sank into turmoil. Yoonhae, gripping the wheel, exuded a buoyant air—his flushed ears and neck betraying it. Fidgeting hands and occasional glances revealed obvious satisfaction.

Whether bleeding or vomiting, Jungjoon should’ve ignored him. Realizing too late, it was spilled water. Regret couldn’t undo it, so he vowed not to let it happen again. Glaring at the rapist’s profile—lost in solo joy, excitement, and ecstasy—Jungjoon turned away powerlessly.

Gazing out the window, he closed his eyes. The heat in his body irked him, but he tried to ignore it. And he felt relieved. Swept up again, their bodies had merged, but that intense pleasure wasn’t there. Thinking he’d returned to his old self brought genuine joy.

That day must’ve been a fluke. The one moaning and screaming in pleasure wasn’t him. The unbelievable acts—clinging like a drugged man, groaning, shrieking, and displaying every disgrace—were an illusion. False, fake.

He hadn’t changed; he was still normal. This act just proved it.

The seat’s warmth comforted him. Between relief and piled fatigue, Jungjoon’s heavy eyelids fluttered shut, and he fell asleep.

Waking, the car was stopped. The engine and lights were off. In the dark interior, amid silence, soft breaths overlapped. Feeling a hand on his face, Jungjoon jolted upright.

“Awake?”

Yoonhae pulled back his close-leaning body, speaking low and hushed—as if not to be overheard.

“…”

Blinking, Jungjoon rubbed his face. His mind wouldn’t clear—heavy, unpleasant, yet lax. His sleep-loosened muscles felt too unguarded.

“…Wake me when we arrive.”

“…”

No reply came—just Yoonhae staring. Uncomfortable under that gaze, as if counting his lashes, Jungjoon unbuckled and stepped out hastily.

Fixing his mussed hair and clothes, he crossed the garden. The guarding gangsters bowed stiffly. Unable to ignore them, he nodded awkwardly, quickening his pace.

Reaching the entrance, he couldn’t enter—blocked. As he faltered, Yoonhae approached after parking, eyeing him before unlocking the door.

“Tired… I’ll skip dinner. Night.”

Stepping in, Jungjoon spoke without looking at him. After the unilateral notice, he climbed the stairs immediately—to leave before being grabbed.

In his room, he headed straight to the bathroom. Shedding heavy clothes, he washed off the grime.

“Haa…”

Standing under the pouring showerhead, he sighed. Rubbing his wet face repeatedly, he tried to rouse his dulled mind. His head stayed heavy, but other nerves sharpened. The water hitting his skin felt more acute and piercing than usual.

He was bone-tired—wanting to collapse. Utterly drained. Maybe that’s why. The unprovoked erection.

“…”

Annoyed, irritation flared. Stopping mid-rub, he banged his head against the wall. He was sick of a body that craved release even now.

He couldn’t muster the will to force it out. Ignoring the bothersome bulge, he focused on washing. Alternating hot and cold water, he tensed his mind and body.

Emerging, fatigue deepened. Drying his hair, he collapsed into bed. Clutching the covers, he buried his face in the pillow. Hoping exhaustion would drag him into deep, unbroken sleep—no dreams, just rest until morning—he curled up desperately.

But that wish went unfulfilled. Jungjoon woke in the predawn hours.

Gasp…

Startled awake, he inhaled sharply, eyes opening.

“…”

In the room’s pale blue darkness, his heart raced chaotically. Slowly… lifting the covers, he saw his soaked lower half. Beneath his pulled-down pants, his underwear was drenched with precum and semen. His penis still stood erect.

He’d had an erotic dream. Or could it be called that? A dream of sex—specifically, being forced into unwanted acts. By Yoonhae, here, he was being raped.

His exhaled breath was hot. From skin to core, he breathed hypersensitively.

“Hng…”

A tepid hand gripped his penis.

“…”

Stroking and shaking it, the glans soon spat thin fluid after a few rubs. A revolting sight.

“Ngh…”

Jungjoon groaned, lying prone. Whimpering like a pained animal, he crawled across the bed. Please… please… Whispering pleas to no one, he begged. Repeating anguished prayers until sweat soaked him, he collapsed sideways.