DAH Ch 19
by soapaAnd only then did he bring his limp hand back. As if yielding to the place that was relentlessly contracting and relaxing in heat, he slid his fingers inside. The sensation of climax came just as quickly as before, and several times more intensely.
His heaving chest wouldn’t settle for a long while. Wet hair clung to his forehead and cheeks. In the darkness, Jungjoon took a long time to steady his breathing.
“…”
A few tears trickled down the corners of his eyes. Mingled with sweat, they lost their distinct shape. Dazed and lost in a trance, Jungjoon raised his upper body in the dim light filtering through the window. With hollow eyes, he scanned the empty room before stepping out as if possessed.
Barefoot, without slippers, he trod the hallway. Walking lifelessly, he stopped abruptly in front of the last room.
Light seeped through the crack of the door—a sign its occupant was still awake.
Knock, knock.
He knocked and turned the handle. Opening the door, he saw Yoonhae seated in an armchair, reading a book. Setting it down, Yoonhae looked surprised. Jungjoon, standing outside, stepped in, watching him as he approached.
Noticing Jungjoon’s drenched state and something unsettling about him, Yoonhae’s expression turned to shock. He leapt from the chair, approaching without even closing the gap in his open robe.
“What’s…”
Frowning, he reached out. His hand, gripping Jungjoon’s shoulder, was hot—like a heat-radiating device.
Yoonhae drew closer. Jungjoon’s breath caught again. From his waist downward, everything melted. It felt like his strength would give out, and he’d collapse any moment.
“…Please… I have a request…”
As he spoke, Jungjoon crumpled. Sliding from Yoonhae’s grasp, he sank down. His hand slipped free from Yoonhae’s final attempt to hold him, dropping to the floor with a thud. Kneeling, Jungjoon bowed his head abjectly.
“I-Ian…”
“…”
“My Ian… Please… I can’t bear it like this, please… I need to get Ian back… I need to work… My child, I have to find my child…”
On his knees, Jungjoon begged. He wept and groveled.
“Please… Please help me… Yoonhae… Please, let me out of here…”
If begging could solve it, it would’ve ended long ago. But he couldn’t endure without doing even this. He felt he’d lose his mind otherwise. Trapped here like this, he truly believed he’d go insane.
“…”
Yoonhae remained silent for a long time. Looking down at the kneeling Jungjoon, he eventually returned to his seat. Slumping into the armchair, he gazed out the window.
Wiping tears, Jungjoon approached him. Like a subordinate facing a gangster boss, he knelt again beside him, bowing humbly.
“To take him back… Do you think you could?”
Yoonhae asked softly.
“…If you… If you, Yoonhae, help me…”
He was pleading with his enemy. But now, he had nothing left to protect. It was better to do anything to win his favor. He knew that otherwise, everything would fundamentally unravel and become dangerous.
“Ian’s doing better than you’d think.”
Jungjoon felt his heart drop to the floor.
“W-What… What do you mean?”
His eyes shook uncontrollably. Yoonhae glanced at him reluctantly.
“He’s adjusting well to his new home…”
“What the hell are you saying…!”
Unable to contain his agitation, Jungjoon stood and grabbed Yoonhae’s collar.
“…I’m human too—don’t you think I’d worry?”
Sighing, Yoonhae rose. He walked to a large wooden desk and stopped. Standing there as if pondering something, he eventually pulled a file from a bookshelf.
“I asked Team Leader Choi to get this.”
Sensing what it was, Jungjoon lunged forward. Snatching the file, he opened it to find a stack of printed photos. Tearing open the envelope, he pulled them out, flipping through them quickly to confirm. They were all images of a child he’d never seen—Ian, grown in a time Jungjoon hadn’t witnessed.
“…”
A child playing at a kids’ café, at an amusement park, eating at a restaurant… The child in the photos wasn’t crying or angry. He was smiling, healthy—innocent and carefree, without a speck of worry.
Yoonhae approached, holding out his phone. A video played—of Ian again.
“Daddy—!”
Calling out and running into his biological father’s arms, the little boy was unmistakably Ian. Jungjoon couldn’t tear his eyes from the giggling face as he was tickled. His legs gave out, and he sank down. Watching the video loop in the same spot, he couldn’t move an inch.
This was the child he’d longed to see. Wondering how he was, how he was growing, Jungjoon had nearly gone mad with worry. Seeing his son unexpectedly, his hands trembled.
Everywhere he looked, Ian seemed bright and healthy. It was such a relief, a joy. Not crying, adapting so well—if this was real, that man was caring for him flawlessly.
A wealthy home would naturally provide more than Jungjoon ever could. And as his biological father… Jungjoon, unlinked by blood, loved him to bursting—how much more a birth parent? Never less, only more.
“…”
Clutching the photos, he looked and looked again. He scrutinized every detail of Ian in the pictures and video, as if his veins might burst, fearing he’d missed something. But even after dozens, hundreds of views, no flaw or fault appeared—only Ian, smiling like any happy child from a normal family.
He didn’t know when he left that room. When he came to, Jungjoon was back in his usual room, unsure how he’d returned.
It was strange.
Why was it?
Seeing Ian doing well should’ve been a relief, yet his chest felt hollowed out. His body wouldn’t muster strength. He felt lost in an odd buoyancy and drift.
Sitting on the bed, it hit him suddenly.
The thought of taking Ian back had vanished.
He quietly accepted, amid vast loss, that he should’ve let go from the start.
Ahh…
Regret pierced his chest now. If he’d known it’d come to this, he would’ve just been kinder. If he’d known their time together would be so short, he would’ve showered him with love.
He’d been strict, fearing Ian would grow spoiled without a mother. Thinking he was educating him, he’d hurt and saddened him—agonizing now. He should’ve been warmer, made him smile more. When he cried, he should’ve hugged him unconditionally instead of scolding.
“Haha…”
Jungjoon clutched his chest and fell onto the bed, face pressed into it. He could almost hear Ian’s lisping voice—“I hate Daddy, I don’t like Daddy”—resenting him.
Tears wouldn’t stop.
He stayed up all night with regret, falling asleep at some point. Waking brought a headache. It was afternoon, but the sky was dark outside, rain falling from gray clouds.
His body, wept out overnight, felt heavier. Drained of moisture somehow, it sagged damply. His ears rang, vision blurred. It was suffocating, like being underwater.
Descending to the living room, he saw something unfamiliar.
A tank that hadn’t been there before.
A wide rectangular aquarium, housing just two fish. Approaching, he recognized them faintly.
Soon, Jungjoon realized they were the carp Yoonhae had caught yesterday.
“…”
Filled extravagantly with plants and rocks, it still looked desolate as the two swam forlornly.
⟡˖ ࣪
Past midnight, the door opened. Yoonhae stepped in. Standing at the threshold, he didn’t come further for some reason.
Feeling his gaze, Jungjoon stayed still too. Holding his breath like a deflated balloon, he waited for Yoonhae to leave. Hoping he’d think him deeply asleep and go. Wishing he’d just stand there and turn back.
The space was so quiet, moving a finger felt awkward. Only the ominous aura he dragged in, like a dark shadow, lingered. His mere presence swelled a precarious tension—undoubtedly a foreboding sign before disaster.
“…”
The downward gaze didn’t waver. Jungjoon felt it, sharp and focused, hinting at how persistent and raw the coming act would be.
“…Shall we?”
He hadn’t even noticed the approaching footsteps. Suddenly, Yoonhae was beside him. His voice suggested he’d known Jungjoon was feigning sleep all along.
The sound of his robe’s sash being untied followed quietly. Jungjoon stayed mute, holding his breath. Taking the silence as consent, Yoonhae leaned down.
Creak—the springs whimpered under pressure. Shadows loomed around him instantly. Jungjoon kept his eyes shut deliberately. Even as a warm hand pulled down the covers and slipped into his pajamas.
A sticky, clinging touch ensued. Fingers like an insect’s legs slid over him. Dry hands caressed and rubbed raised or hollow spots. They lingered especially long on his chest’s protrusions, teasing them playfully.
Touching, kneading… tasting with his mouth. Scraping with teeth, sucking, tugging for stimulation. At the same time, gripping and shaking the flesh he could grasp. Then, as if it never happened, stroking gently again. Palms pressed firmly, appraising his skin.
What did he think this body was? The acts revealed a twisted curiosity and desire, devoid of connection, consideration, or mood. It unfolded messily, like a barbarian’s feast outside civilization.
Breathing grew audible. Excited, uneven breaths. They roughened further as he stripped Jungjoon’s pajama pants and kneaded his buttocks.
“Hng…!”
Fingers dug into his ass. Soon, Jungjoon’s penis reacted. When the fingers doubled, it fully hardened.
Curved fingers rubbed a sensitive spot. From the taut penis, precum flowed—wet fluid sliding down the shaft. It soaked his scrotum and perineum, like an endless spring seeping into the hole.
Squelch, squelch—wet sounds echoed. His mucous membranes grew hypersensitive. Each touch and rub made his penis twitch in sync, swelling tighter than when directly handled.
“Ngh…”
Swallowing a moan, his throat tensed. Veins pulsed on his forehead.
Jungjoon repeated to himself: This is just an abnormal human reaction in an extreme situation. A self-defense mechanism to keep from breaking mentally and physically. He reiterated it to grasp the mind-body disconnect.
“Hmm…!”
The fingers withdrew, replaced by a penis pressing against him. Rubbing the slick hole, it soon slid in. Unaccustomed pressure engulfed Jungjoon. His inner thighs tensed, jaw lifting.
“Hah…!”
The foreign sensation swallowed him whole. His empty stomach felt stuffed with it. Skin, muscle, bone—all screamed in pain. For a while, he barely breathed, adjusting to the intrusion.
The penis gradually widened his insides, and the horrific pain soon transformed. As its blunt head persistently rubbed a spot, his state shifted. Discomfort turned to unbearable pleasure, and Jungjoon bit his lower lip hard to suppress the shivers.
He recalled his wife’s habit when aroused—biting her lip. It overlapped. No. This isn’t that. Denying it, he bit his arm instead.
Swallowing sounds, he fought to hold onto his mind. But it didn’t last. Before the relentless pleasure, disgust lost form and crumbled.
Jungjoon let out inhuman moans. Fully dominated, he was driven to a violent climax. Semen burst from his penis repeatedly. Gasping like a dog, he writhed, chest heaving.
“Haa…”
Yoonhae’s limbs tangled with Jungjoon’s trembling ones. Caressing and teasing, he eventually lifted and folded Jungjoon’s right leg, thrusting inside.
“Ahh…”
Despite the gentler insertion, the sensitivity raged. He couldn’t understand why it felt more intense. Just a thick, long piece of flesh moving in an expanded hole—yet why did his whole body react? Why did his brain feel like it was boiling and melting, leaving him powerless? He wanted to ask.
His last bastion as a human had long collapsed. Rougher. Shake me harder. Each time the vile wish surfaced, he bit his lip and shook his head.
“Ngh…!!”
With a heavy, pounding friction, he clenched his teeth. Yoonhae pinned his legs, thrusting hard—the intense stimulation he’d craved.
Jungjoon’s chest surged. He felt the penis, buried to the hilt, twitching inside.
The bed rattled, flesh clashing loudly. Jungjoon cried out in broken syllables to stop. As if aroused by his wails, Yoonhae’s hips bucked harder.
Gripping Jungjoon, he stabbed upward, forcing a brutal climax. Chased by electric-shock-like ecstasy, Jungjoon thrashed. Yoonhae bound his recoiling body, rubbing deep inside.
“Ah…!!!”
His vision flashed. Jungjoon arched grotesquely. Semen shot from his glans like a geyser, followed by weaker spurts.
Muscles quivered as the climax spread. Pleasure coursed from crown to toes, stiffening them rigid.
“Haa…”
With lascivious breaths, Yoonhae moved with him. Lying sideways, he ensnared Jungjoon’s body. Without withdrawing, he prolonged the climax in their union.
Groaning, he nibbled Jungjoon’s ear. A strange sound bubbled in his throat. Overwhelming sensitivity followed, and Jungjoon clenched below, twisting his hips.
It was a pleasure that denied his entire life. Who is this? Whose body? It felt possessed by a lustful demon—nothing else explained it.
“I love you…”
As reason returned, a whisper reached him.
“I love you…”
Moist breath burrowed into his ear. A voice that seemed to seep in. Goosebumps rose on sticky skin. Jungjoon writhed in mingled fluids, covering his tear-soaked eyes, whispering.
“…Stop…”
He didn’t want to hear more. Listening further felt like it’d unhinge him.
“Stop…”
And he wept as if unhinged. Yoonhae was now looking down at him.
“This… isn’t it… This isn’t love…”
Tears flowed from weary, drooping eyes.
“It’s not love—it’s obsession…”
Put differently, it was stubbornness, a bad habit, addiction. A destructive act.
“You don’t know… what love is…”
Jungjoon wanted to teach him this wasn’t love. Not ignoring him, but genuinely pitying him. He felt sorry for Yoonhae, who’d never experienced normal relationships or romance. He was merely mistaking his first attachment for love—a warped affection that had solidified and twisted into this mess.
“…”
Yoonhae, staring silently, laughed. A small, nasal scoff.
“So… you know?”
“…”
“You know what love is because you’ve done it?”
Jungjoon looked up with red eyes.
“Huh? You’re saying you know. Tell me then. What grand love did you have with your dead wife to be so sure?”
His probing eyes turned cold and sharp. Unlike before, Jungjoon shut his mouth.
“Was it better with a woman? Screaming the house down, clenching so I wouldn’t leave… It was wild. More than just now?”
“…”
“No, really. Louder than most porn stars.”
A chuckle sounded, and Jungjoon’s face burned.
“If it was that great, what—did you fuck until you ended up in the hospital?”
Unable to bear the insult, Jungjoon furrowed his brow. Seeing it, Yoonhae let out a dry haha. The contrast between his laughing mouth and chilling eyes was eerie.
“Funny…”
He muttered several times.
“So, what you and Lee Jin-ah did was tender love…”
“…”
“And what we do… what I do is just worthless obsession…?”
He emphasized it mockingly, as if Jungjoon had said it.
“I’m just a crazed pervert in heat, right?”
“…”
“Yeah… right. To you, I’ll always be just a rapist and stalker.”
Unable to say yes, Jungjoon pressed his lips tight.
“…That’s not what I meant…”
“…”
“I just wish you’d…”
Unsure how to convey it, Jungjoon struggled too. He didn’t know how to shatter Yoonhae’s rigid, deluded world.
“Wish I’d what?”
Yoonhae looked down at Jungjoon’s trembling eyes.
“…Had more… diverse experiences… real relationships… with a woman or omega, someone right for you…”
Muttering regretfully, Jungjoon’s mouth was abruptly silenced. A heavy hand clamped his throat.
“If I had, then what.”
In a threatening tone, Yoonhae pressed for more.
“Y-Your… perspective would… broaden… n-normally… happily… human relationships… healthily… without needing this…”
Tears welled in Jungjoon’s pressured eyes. No sound escaped his choked throat, and the conversation severed. Yoonhae flipped him over, mounted him, and thrust inside, ending the brief attempt.
“Ah…!!”
It plunged into the still-open hole in one go. Pinning Jungjoon down, he slammed into him fiercely. Using his heavy body like punishment, he struck down.
Jungjoon screamed. Instinctively, he flailed his arms to escape.
It felt like his insides, his organs, would rupture. But the fear didn’t last. His eyes rolled back from terror of physical ruin for only a moment. Shamefully, soon after, they rolled back for another reason. Limbs thrashing in pain were soon overwhelmed by unbearable pleasure. In mere minutes, the horrific agony morphed into ecstasy dozens of times greater.
“Ahh…!”
His voice turned grotesque. A sobbing not his own leaked out. Each thrust drew wails as if he’d go mad with longing.
“Ah, ah, ah…!!”
A beastly mating position followed. Prone, Jungjoon took Yoonhae like a dog. Reaching climax, his spine arched against his will.
A hot hand pressed his back deeper. The hand on his waist rose to grip his nape. Pounding toward climax, Yoonhae collapsed onto Jungjoon’s back. Bearing his full weight, he stabbed downward.
“Hah, ngh…, mm…!!”
Fingers entered his mouth. Two long, thick digits ravaged it. Jungjoon moaned with glazed eyes.
Immense weight crushed him as the insertion scraped his insides sharply. His waterlogged mind blanked. Amid choking breaths, his rear tightened painfully. Constricting airways, violent thrusts, suffocating pressure—conditions that sparked fear now fueled supreme pleasure as climax neared.
Yoonhae, pounding roughly, withdrew his fingers at the last moment. Reaching the peak together, he turned Jungjoon’s head and kissed him. Forcing it open, he mingled tongues. Below, he ground hard, savoring the climax as if never letting go.
Before the ferocious ecstasy faded, he withdrew and flipped Jungjoon over. Slipping a wet tongue into his gaping mouth, he kissed him. Tasting heated saliva, he pinned Jungjoon’s trembling thighs with his legs.
Jungjoon couldn’t regain himself, soul adrift. Tears flowed from slack eyes. Mouth open, gasping, he shook intermittently. His glans oozed thin fluids incessantly, like an anomaly.
“This isn’t love?”
Huh? Yoonhae asked, touching Jungjoon’s lower half. Slipping between a folded leg, he caressed the contracting anal folds. Sliding into the semen-leaking hole.
“Ngh…!!”
Shoving three fingers in at once, he shook them violently. Hitting the peak and pulling out, a massive burst of fluid erupted from Jungjoon’s glans. Clear like water, it sprayed forcefully in all directions, repeating several times, lifting Jungjoon’s hips.
“Hah…!”
Unable to control the pleasure, Jungjoon arched, writhing in distress. Looking down at his lewdly ruined state, Yoonhae shouted.
“This isn’t love?!”
He gripped Jungjoon’s jaw, fixing it.
“If this isn’t love…”
“…”
“There’s no love in the world.”
Declaring it, he thrust his erect penis forward. Clutching Jungjoon’s helpless lower body, he pushed into the wet hole.
Jungjoon’s body welcomed it, sucking it in. Swallowing it whole, it tightened snugly. Haa… Yoonhae sighed, eyes rolling back.
“Open your ears and listen…”
Cupping Jungjoon’s face, he whispered.
“No one loves you more than I do.”
Kissing his ears, cheeks, jawline.
“In this world… no one loves you more than I do…”
He repeated it over and over. No one loves you more than me. Tangling their limbs intricately, he consumed Jungjoon’s lips. Breathing into that warm, wet space.
“…More than I…”
“…”
…love you.
The confession seeped in like poison. Jungjoon opened his mouth meekly, swallowing it. Hot tears streamed from the corners of his closed eyes.
Since that day, every day was sex. Yoonhae got aroused anytime, anywhere, and Jungjoon spread his legs without resistance.
Jungjoon let him do whatever. With thoughts and will gone, he adapted quickly to a subhuman existence.
Sex, eat, sleep, excrete. He thought of nothing else. No desire to return, work, or find his child. No useless wishes or hopes.
Emotions vanished too. Anger ceased. No anxiety or sadness. Sometimes a faint longing surfaced, but that was it. Recalling the child’s smiling face erased even that. A strange satisfaction remained—That’s enough.
Everything was like that. Like burnt ashes. No emotions, just remnants occasionally scattering in the wind.
His hollowed-out shell no longer repulsed him. Becoming a doll for Yoonhae’s desires stirred no feelings. A dry optimism—It doesn’t matter—merely kept him living each day.
Here, there was nothing to do but sex anyway. No liquor to drown in, no engaging distractions, no tasks for fulfillment. Nothing stimulating existed. Only their bodies. A world with nothing addictive but that.
Ahh…
Lying on the sofa, Jungjoon let out a bitter laugh. He’d thought his submission was passive, but maybe it was the opposite.
Had he only been taken? Reflecting, it felt closer to voluntary. A repetition and obsession born of addiction. Writhing and crying out beneath Yoonhae, anyone could see he was filled with rapture.
Yesterday, they’d had sex until dawn. In Yoonhae’s bed. In a room lit only by garden lights seeping through the window. Legs spread, he’d matched Yoonhae’s thrusts with labored breaths for hours. He’d watched every detail of the penis spreading and penetrating him. Observed fully how two mature male bodies—muscle and bone—interlocked and collided.
“…”
Recalling it absently, he stood abruptly. Rising from the sofa, Jungjoon sighed. Pacing restlessly, he approached a spot.
He stood before the large tank. Inside, fish swam. He’d always passed it by, never looking closely. Seeing them alive, Yoonhae or someone must be tending them.
He stared endlessly at the meaningless fin movements. Suddenly, a presence loomed behind. Yoonhae, approaching silently, embraced him from behind, burying his nose as if sniffing.
“Watching the fish?”
“…”
“These two… what should we name them?”
Jungjoon answered after a long pause.
“…Dunno…”
Meanwhile, the hand roaming his abdomen slipped into his pants. Groping inside his underwear, it gripped his penis.
“Hm? Why’s it kinda hard?”
Rubbing carelessly, Yoonhae asked. Dirty thoughts? Ignoring the laughing tone, Jungjoon stared at the tank.
“It’s nice out. Totally spring.”
The hand kneading him withdrew. His penis was left vaguely hot. Let’s get some air, Yoonhae said, pulling Jungjoon’s hand.
Outside was indeed full spring. Warm enough without a jacket. The bare garden trees from when he’d arrived were now blooming.
Now he noticed the thoughtful landscaping. Following Yoonhae, Jungjoon sat at a parasol bench in the garden he’d never used.
“Spring, huh…”
It’s exciting, Yoonhae muttered.
“Wanna go see cherry blossoms later?”
“…”
His mouth prattled about spring and flowers while his hand fondled Jungjoon’s penis. Familiar toy treatment.
“…Stop…”
Inside the villa, he’d have let it be. But outside, with Yoonhae’s men distantly encircling, it bothered him.
“Why? Scared someone’ll see?”
Jungjoon didn’t reply. Tilting his head, he gripped the wrist digging into his pants.
“…”
The hand, persisting casually, soon withdrew. Just as he thought it’d stop, it slipped under his shirt. Yoonhae teased his nipple and chuckled.
“Getting all hard and telling me to stop.”
“…”
His eyelids trembled at the lascivious, suggestive muttering. Yoonhae’s hand slid downward, brushing over Jungjoon’s abdomen. The blunt fingertips lingered unusually long on a particular spot. The position and shape traced in circles by his fingers were peculiar—it was the exact place that had swelled most intensely each time the penis moved in and out yesterday.
Memories clashing with the bright scenery surfaced. Flushed with heat, Jungjoon abruptly rose from his seat. Yoonhae reached out as if to stop him, gripping Jungjoon’s arm. Raising his other hand, he gestured in the air with a flick. Spotting the signal from afar, one of his men hurriedly approached.
“You called, sir?”
Yoonhae addressed the man who approached with rigid formality.
“Daehyun-ah.”
“Yes, Director.”
The man bowed stiffly and responded. Yoonhae pulled the standing Jungjoon back down to sit. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, he kneaded it lightly.
“I’ve been late with introductions. Say hello—this is my hyung.”
My hyung I lost when we were kids. Adding it slyly, Yoonhae smiled, and the man immediately bowed to Jungjoon.
“Greetings, Hyung-nim. I’m Choi Daehyun, in charge of security. I’ll do my utmost to serve you going forward.”
“…”
He had a rugged appearance and a deep voice. Though equipped with a walkie-talkie like a typical bodyguard, he looked nothing but a gangster. The overly formal greeting, unusual for everyday life, made Jungjoon feel awkward. A clumsy nod in return was the best he could muster.
“Hyung, want some coffee?”
At Yoonhae’s question, Jungjoon shook his head slightly, still tense. Despite the refusal, Yoonhae requested it from the man anyway.
“Get us some coffee and something light to eat.”
“Yes, Director.”
Shortly after the man relayed the order via walkie-talkie, food arrived. A large tray came out, neatly arranged with coffee, fruit, sandwiches, and more. Alongside an indoor servant, one of Yoonhae’s men placed each item on the table.
“…”
Jungjoon watched uneasily. Since a while back, the villa had hired more staff—middle-aged women handling kitchen and cleaning duties who occasionally came and went. They usually stayed in a separate annex beside the villa, working set hours before leaving, but to Jungjoon, the environment remained utterly unfamiliar.
“How’s your father? Didn’t you say he had surgery?”
After a sip of coffee, Yoonhae casually asked the man standing before him.
“Yes. He had surgery last year and is doing well, thanks to you, Director.”
At the polite reply, Yoonhae briefly lifted the corner of his mouth.
“How old did you say your kid was?”
Setting down his cup, Yoonhae prompted, and the man answered.
“He turned five this year.”
“I see… Does he take after his dad?”
“Yes. He whines every morning when I leave for work, not wanting me to go.”
Yoonhae gave a wry smile.
“You’d better treat him well.”
“Yes, Director. I’ll do my best.”
At that moment, a phone rang from inside the man’s jacket. Pulling it out, he glanced at Yoonhae, revealing the caller. With a nod from Yoonhae to take it, he connected the call.
As the man turned to handle work matters over the phone, Yoonhae shifted his gaze to Jungjoon. Muttering “Five years old…”, he tossed out a remark.
“Man… an age where they just want to be loved.”
“…”
Jungjoon couldn’t respond. He poked at unwanted fruit with a fork.
“Kids are really… what’s the word?”
“…”
“They take so much effort.”
Musing, he picked up a strawberry from the plate.
“Honestly, isn’t it kind of… annoying?”
Biting it, he pressed the remaining half to Jungjoon’s lips. Looking down, Jungjoon reluctantly opened his mouth to take it. The fruit’s flesh mashed between his chewing teeth.
“No matter how well you treat them, they’re never satisfied.”
“…”
“You treat them well one day, and the next they demand even more…”
Yoonhae furrowed his brow and raised a hand. He rubbed Jungjoon’s lips, where juice had slightly seeped out.
“It’s exhausting.”
Saying this, he pressed his thumb hard on Jungjoon’s lips and dragged it down. Grazing his chin, then neck, he tugged at the collar of the thick cotton t-shirt.
“Maybe that’s why… looking at them gives me a headache.”
“…”
“People who grew up with affection deficits.”
Immature minds in overgrown bodies… Tapping his own head a couple times, he smirked, then leaned in for a kiss. The scent of strawberry wafted from their touching lips.
Startled, Jungjoon pulled back, glancing up at Yoonhae’s subordinate nearby. Fortunately, the man was turned away, engrossed in his call, seemingly oblivious.
“Hm? Doesn’t it give you a headache?”
Yoonhae closed in again, pulling Jungjoon’s back toward him.
“Trying to get now what they didn’t get as kids…”
It’s a damn mess… He growled low near Jungjoon’s ear, rubbing his lips against it. Goosebumps rising, Jungjoon tried to push him away. But Yoonhae hugged him tighter, his lips slipping inward.
“But does that work?”
A mocking laugh burst from the lips that had been sucking and nibbling wetly.
“It never does.”
The hand digging into his clothes gripped Jungjoon’s chest, where his nipples stood erect.
“No matter how much they beg…”
Haa… Amid Yoonhae’s groan, Jungjoon twisted his body, eyes darting frantically. His heart pounded, fearing the subordinate on the phone might glance over.
“Who’d love something like that?”
A rough hand seized his buttocks.
“No one loves it.”
“Ngh…!”
“So they just keep… craving it.”
Another hand wrapped around his waist.
“For their whole damn life… until they die…”
Living like beggars.
“Ugh…!”
With that sinister murmur, his pants were yanked off. Jungjoon fumbled in panic, but they were already down. Even his crumpled underwear rolled onto the grass. He tried pushing away the clinging body, but it was laughably futile.
He realized too late he’d been caught off guard, ensnared. Swept up helplessly like naive prey, his chest hit the table in an instant. A spit-slick hand pressed against his exposed buttocks. Thick fingers rubbed the cleft as if caressing his privates. They prodded the tensed hole, prying it open.
Yoonhae clung to Jungjoon from behind like a slobbering dog. Overlapping Jungjoon’s hands gripping the table, he pressed his heated penis inside.
“Ah…!”
A heightened moan rang in his ear. It happened in the blink of an eye. What is this? What’s happening? Amid shock and confusion, all he heard was Yoonhae’s breathing. Only the crude sounds of his mouth sucking at Jungjoon’s ear poured out.
Jungjoon clenched his teeth to stifle moans. The table shook and rattled, dishes spilling and crashing. The surroundings quickly became a mess of tangled food.
“Hng, ngh…!”
The sensation of the penis moving in and out was vivid. He couldn’t believe his own shameless exposure. Shame he hadn’t known still lingered tormented him. His bare skin flushed red all over.
Unable to bear the humiliation, tears fell. Yoonhae’s large body enveloped him, but the act of mounting and thrusting like a dog couldn’t be concealed. To anyone watching, it was a beastly rutting, heedless of time or place—an unashamed arousal and mating.
“Ahh, ngh…!”
“Mmm…”
Yoonhae groaned, biting Jungjoon’s ear. His heavy, hanging body flexed its muscles, relentlessly penetrating. Each deep thrust and withdrawal shook Jungjoon’s entire frame. Clinging to the table like a lifeline, he bit his arm to muffle the sounds.
Soon, the stimulation peaked, and he ejaculated. Yoonhae came inside Jungjoon, while Jungjoon spilled semen onto Yoonhae’s gripping hand. His strength drained, his lower body sagged limply.
Yoonhae lifted Jungjoon’s sweat-soaked body effortlessly. Jungjoon blinked his damp eyelids. Through blurred vision, Yoonhae’s subordinate was no longer visible. He didn’t know when the man had slipped away. Far off, the gangsters guarding the entrance stood turned away, as if choreographed. The situation only deepened Jungjoon’s dizziness and shame.
“P-Please…”
He just wanted to go inside now, but his plea went unheard. Yoonhae secured a large rattan chair’s backrest against the table to keep it still. Seating Jungjoon there, he hooked both his legs over the armrests and thrust inside.
In a ridiculous state—pants off, upper clothes, socks, and shoes still on—Jungjoon took the penis. The thick top intact, only his lower half exposed, he felt like a perverse deviant. Yoonhae, breathing heavily with arousal, lifted Jungjoon’s shirt to fondle his chest. He rubbed the nipples, slid down to the navel. Gripping the erect, trembling penis, he stroked it back and forth. The motion naturally stimulated the captive shaft.
“Haa, mm…!”
Jungjoon bit his arm and wept. The rising pleasure was unbearable. Disgusting pleasure. Perverse pleasure. The more Yoonhae’s penis felt sickening moving in and out, the wider his legs spread. His mind numbed, senses sharpened. Like a creature living solely for desire, he greedily clenched below, urging Yoonhae toward climax.
And Yoonhae responded with fiercer thrusts. Driving Jungjoon to the brink as if to choke him, he scraped the inner walls harshly. The friction against his buttocks grew rougher and faster. Pushed to the edge, Jungjoon screamed at the final moment, neck snapping back. He erupted in Yoonhae’s hand.
His buttocks contracted, lifting. The penis slipped out deeply. The rigid shaft wobbled, spewing semen. Then, it sprayed a stream toward Jungjoon’s body. The strange-smelling liquid was Yoonhae’s urine.
“Haa…”
Yoonhae aimed his penis, unloading until the end. Soaking Jungjoon’s lips, chest, abdomen, and lower half, he let out a breath. Even amid the worst humiliation, Jungjoon’s body twitched from the aftershocks of climax.
You… bastard…
Unspoken curses swirled in Jungjoon’s mouth. Yoonhae’s face, eerily enraptured, came into view. His barely lifted eyelids soon closed, strength depleted.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in the bathroom. He realized he’d blacked out in the interim. Yoonhae had carried him back, brought him here, and washed him thoroughly. Fragments of unsettling moments—meaningless stares and teasing during the washing—flickered through his mind.
After that grueling process, he was in a large bathtub. Behind him, Yoonhae held and caressed him, supporting his body.
“…”
His arms were now covered in bite marks. Yoonhae’s hand stroked them. A hand that seemed unbreakable even by a sledgehammer glided over his skin.
“Hoo…”
Noticing Jungjoon awake, Yoonhae moved to his chin. Kissing him, he sucked his lips. Tongues mingled, slipping inside. Wet fingers burrowed into Jungjoon’s hair.
“Mmm…”
The tiresome cycle of touching and kissing dragged on endlessly. That he still craved more, like a lust-crazed fiend, was horrifying. The tenacious, loathsome desire made Jungjoon shudder.
He felt long-dead emotions surging. His breath caught. The hot water in the tub pressed against him like mud. Crushed by a body heavy as stone, he couldn’t move. The bathroom’s sweet fragrance smelled like rotting fruit. Struggling against his sinking frame felt futile—he’d already fallen too deep.
Was that why?
A premonition hit him: he might die like this.
The thought of wanting to die.
No—the realization he should die.
“I love you…”
“…”
“I love you, Seo Jungjoon…”
Yoonhae caressed him with overlapping lips, murmuring. The steamy, moist confession enveloped everything.
I love you…
I love you…
Only you…
Amid the intoxicated declarations, a sudden sneer welled up deep in his gut.
Why?
How come?
Why should I die?
The question sparked a sudden epiphany.
It wasn’t him who should die.
The realization that he shouldn’t die but kill jolted his mind awake. By his own hands, no matter what it took, he had to kill this man—this indescribably repulsive being.
“…”
It was a desire more vivid than anything. He genuinely wanted to kill Yoonhae. He pictured crushing and breaking him. And he realized he’d harbored this urge for far too long.
He wanted to ensure Yoonhae could never rise again. To break his legs and make him collapse, as he’d been made to. More miserably, more painfully than what he’d endured…
He knew how to destroy him. The more he thought, the more Jungjoon found this situation enjoyable for the first time. Being part of Yoonhae’s solid world felt, for the first time, thrilling.
There was so much he could do. Build this hollow world bigger, stronger. Fill it with what Yoonhae wanted, as much as he wanted.
Imagining the grandest final moment made his heart race. When that time came, he’d collapse everything he’d painstakingly built with his whole being. Shattering it to pieces would be his role.
“Mmm…”
Jungjoon reached back, wrapping his arms around Yoonhae’s neck. Pulling him close, he kissed him actively. Turning fully to embrace him, he pressed his lips to Yoonhae’s neck, and the muscles tensed instantly.
“More…”
A cracked, damp, shockingly lascivious voice emerged. Jungjoon whispered low, caressing Yoonhae’s shoulders. His encircling legs tightened around Yoonhae’s torso. A terrifyingly cruel intent boiled within.
“Keep going…”
The hand sliding over muscle was suddenly gripped. Yoonhae’s hand seized Jungjoon’s. Looking up, he met red, gazing eyes.
Those trembling pupils held faint suspicion—and intense arousal.
Soon, heated lips lunged at him.