DAH Ch 20

Feeling a slight tremor, he awoke from sleep. There was a cautious movement beside him. Jungjoon kept his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep.

The sound of Yoonhae leaving the bed and heading to the bathroom reached his ears. With a click, the door shut, followed by the sound of water hitting the bathroom floor.

“…”

Jungjoon, who had been listening quietly, raised his upper body. Sitting dazedly, he rubbed his face, still heavy with sleep, then threw off the covers and stood up.

Approaching the bathroom, he stood before the door and, without knocking, turned the handle. With a clack, he stepped inside, and the sound of water grew louder. Amid the steam filling the room, he saw Yoonhae showering. Spotting Jungjoon, Yoonhae turned off the faucet, his expression slightly startled.

Jungjoon stripped off his clothes right in front of him. Feeling Yoonhae’s gaze follow, he shed even his underwear. Naked, he walked without hesitation toward the shower stall where Yoonhae stood. Jungjoon approached the man who had been standing motionless all this time.

“…Can I wash with you?”

At the question, Yoonhae seemed at a loss for words. He didn’t respond, but his lower body did. Seeing the flesh swell with tension, Jungjoon picked up a shower towel. He lathered it with soap and pressed it against Yoonhae’s wet body. Each gentle rub caused Yoonhae’s lower half to twitch as if pulled taut.

Jungjoon’s hand turned on the water, stroking the slick body. He subtly caressed the tensed flesh before pulling it into an embrace. Yoonhae, his body awkwardly stiff, let himself be held by Jungjoon.

“It’s warm…”

Jungjoon’s murmured voice echoed in the bathroom. Moments later, he pulled away and looked down. Yoonhae’s penis twitched as if begging to be touched.

Jungjoon’s hand slid down, grasping the base of the shaft. At the same moment, Yoonhae gripped Jungjoon’s shoulder tightly.

“…Should I do it?”

Jungjoon asked softly, kneading gently. Looking up, he saw Yoonhae’s eyes trembling. His face was flushed, veins bulging on his forehead.

Despite the clear signs of arousal, Yoonhae only stared at Jungjoon, unable to utter a reply. His wet, quivering gaze seemed both fierce and powerless.

Jungjoon voluntarily knelt and took the penis into his mouth. Ah… A frantic groan erupted as Yoonhae’s thighs and buttocks tensed sharply.

Holding Yoonhae’s thighs with both hands, Jungjoon moved his face. The crude sounds of air escaping and friction followed as he went back and forth. Yoonhae, gripping the wall and moaning, seemed unable to contain his excitement and seized Jungjoon’s head firmly. He pushed deeper into Jungjoon’s throat.

Jungjoon opened his throat wide, swallowing the penis fully. Taking it as deep as possible, he sucked with all his might. He offered his body solely as a tool for Yoonhae’s pleasure.

“Ah, ngh…, ugh…!!”

Following the stimulation, Yoonhae clutched Jungjoon and thrust downward, soon ejaculating. The steaming flesh slipped from Jungjoon’s mouth. Semen dripped from the corner of his lips.

“…”

Jungjoon spat the contents onto the floor with a wet sound. The mixture of saliva and fluids was swept away by the water, disappearing down the drain.

Yoonhae watched the scene as if entranced. Though Jungjoon was the one who’d knelt, endured the water, and worked his mouth raw, Yoonhae—who’d merely stood and indulged his lower half—looked far more disheveled. His eyes, red as if he’d cried for hours, and his mottled complexion betrayed his state.

“…Come here.”

Yoonhae said, dazed.

“Come here.”

His voice cracked as if he might cry. As Jungjoon stood, Yoonhae yanked him by the waist. He showered Jungjoon with kisses as if to devour him. Jungjoon, unfazed, wrapped his arms around Yoonhae’s neck and reciprocated. Pulling him closer by the waist, a groan burst from their pressed lips.

Yoonhae’s aroused movements grew rough. He crushed Jungjoon in a tight embrace, consumed by kissing. The sounds of water hitting the floor and flesh being sucked amid groans filled the space.

Then, a dull thud interrupted. Amid the frenzied movements, Jungjoon, pushed this way and that, had hit the back of his head against the bathroom tiles.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Yoonhae, startled, cupped Jungjoon’s head with his hand. Jungjoon, breathless from the fervent kissing, mumbled, “Uh…” Yoonhae’s wide, alarmed eyes wouldn’t leave Jungjoon’s face. More than the pain, it was Yoonhae’s flustered reaction that threw him off.

“I’m really fine.”

Saying this, Jungjoon turned off the faucet. The water stopped abruptly, and silence fell over the room.

“…”

Contrary to expectations that he’d kiss him again, Yoonhae grew quiet. He simply stood there, staring at Jungjoon. Unlike moments ago, when his eyes had rolled back in arousal, he now seemed subdued. He lowered his wet eyelids, gazing at the floor. Even then, his penis twitched faintly.

“…Come here.”

This time, Jungjoon spoke. Spreading his arms as if to prove he was truly okay, Yoonhae blinked in surprise.

Jungjoon’s reflection shimmered in Yoonhae’s glossy black eyes, tinged with swirling emotions. It took mere seconds for his hesitation to be overtaken by heat. With the momentum of unleashing something immense, he lunged at Jungjoon.

Emerging from the bathroom after expending so much energy since morning, breakfast awaited. A neatly arranged Korean meal was set out, and the hired help had already retreated to the annex.

They began eating at a table for just the two of them. Perhaps because he’d been so drained since morning, hunger gnawed at him. Mixing rice into a clean radish soup, their eyes suddenly met.

“What’s wrong?”

Jungjoon asked with a forced smile.

“…Nothing.”

Yoonhae averted his gaze, brushing it off gruffly. Watching him eat, Jungjoon lifted one corner of his mouth. The sudden pretense of decorum struck him as amusing. Without showing it, he picked up some seasoned vegetables with chopsticks and placed them in Yoonhae’s rice bowl.

“…”

Ignoring the slightly surprised look, Jungjoon resumed eating. Yoonhae stared at the added side dish for a while before mixing it with his rice and eating. For the rest of the meal, he glanced at Jungjoon with an unnatural frequency.

Jungjoon quickly grasped the meaning behind the looks and occasionally added noticeable side dishes to Yoonhae’s bowl. Matching his eating pace, he responded to the easily understood expectation with care.

And such acts of compliance continued even after the meal.

Yoonhae sat on the living room sofa, oddly conscious of Jungjoon’s movements. Holding a book in one hand, he seemed distracted as Jungjoon lingered nearby before sitting beside him. It didn’t end with just sitting; Jungjoon pulled the free hand that had been draped over the sofa’s backrest toward himself.

“…”

He toyed with the knobby fingers. The moment the skinship began, the touched body stiffened. Though Yoonhae’s eyes were fixed on the book, Jungjoon knew he wasn’t reading a word.

Yoonhae’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp. The shape of his penis stood out clearly beneath his pants.

“Is that book interesting?”

Jungjoon asked, resting his head on Yoonhae’s shoulder.

“…It’s just…”

Readable. Muttering his reply, he set the book down.

“Why? Keep reading.”

As he spoke, Jungjoon played with the loosely entwined hand. Rubbing the calluses on Yoonhae’s palm, the bulge beneath his pants stirred. With a small chuckle through his nose, Jungjoon reached for it. Tracing the prominent shape, Yoonhae’s thigh jerked upward. Reflexively, he grabbed Jungjoon’s hand.

“Why?”

Jungjoon looked up and asked, implying, Don’t you like it when I do this?

“…Why…”

Yoonhae hesitated, unable to continue.

“Why are you like this lately?”

His voice was laden with suspicion.

“Why are you suddenly… acting like this…”

Frowning, he trailed off. His anxious eyes demanded an answer.

“…”

Jungjoon met his gaze silently. He thought Yoonhae was late to ask. Since that day, Jungjoon had been acting as if he’d fulfill every base desire of Yoonhae’s, and Yoonhae, though thrown off by the shift, was helplessly swept along.

“…Well.”

Jungjoon paused, as if lost in thought.

“Maybe I realized something?”

A swallowing sound echoed from Yoonhae’s throat.

“Just…”

Even as he delayed his answer, Yoonhae’s burning gaze persisted.

“I found out that living with you like this is more satisfying than I thought.”

Jungjoon said, gazing out at the garden beyond the glass window.

“Everything here is peaceful. No responsibilities…”

“…”

“Nothing to worry about… It’s comfortable. I don’t have to earn money, work, or even raise a kid…”

He opened his eyes distantly, like someone detached from the world.

“Just resting, eating, sleeping…”

And having sex… Adding it subtly, Jungjoon gripped Yoonhae’s penis again. The hand restraining his wrist loosened at the blatant caress.

“So I realized there’s no need to struggle so hard.”

That was somewhat true. He’d lived too desperately, and only now did he see it wasn’t necessary. Losing everything had taught him how pitiful and empty his life was. Like a husk drained of its essence, he felt his existence was wretched and hollow.

“My limit came long ago… but I kept running without a single break.”

He’d charged forward without rest. Since escaping the orphanage, every day had been a battle with money. Once he landed a proper job, every day became a war to keep it. Meeting his wife, marrying, becoming the head of a household—he’d given his all. After her death, he’d fought tooth and nail to raise their child well.

“So now… I’m just going to let go.”

“…”

“I’m going to…”

Let it all go and live easily. The confession, a mix of truth and falsehood, ended there. Turning from the scenery beyond the glass, Jungjoon looked up at Yoonhae. Those blind eyes remained fixed on him. The gaze, gauging his sincerity, brimmed with tangled emotions.

Seeing lips about to speak, Jungjoon preempted.

“And honestly, you’re right.”

He laid the bait.

“The truth is… I like it too.”

Words he’d never wanted to say, delivered calmly.

“Doing it with you…”

So much more than with my wife…

Goosebumps crawled from his neck down his spine.

“It’s so good… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“…”

“All day long…”

Just doing that with you…

Before he could finish, the trap snapped shut. Yoonhae’s lips silenced Jungjoon’s tongue. A large, heavy body collapsed onto him, bearing down with weight.

Impatient hands tore at Jungjoon’s clothes, ripping them off. Buttons popped from the roughly opened shirt, rolling across the floor. Stripping off the underwear too, Yoonhae touched the hole. Hastily wetting it with spit, he caressed it with his palm before plunging in.

Reddened eyes. Hot breaths. The panting of a beast. He didn’t seem human. Though his mind wanted to escape, to rest, his body heated up instantly. His penis curved in anticipation, leaking fluid. The conditioned response of his body was revolting yet, in a way, a relief.

Spreading his legs like a frog, he took Yoonhae in. Crushed against Yoonhae’s body until his skin reddened, he cried out. It didn’t end with one round. Like a beast mating, he lay prone, repeatedly swallowing Yoonhae’s penis. Yoonhae, aroused, bit Jungjoon’s nape and howled like an animal. Jungjoon, as if delighting in the flesh pounding inside, threw his head back and wailed.

It was a coupling more primal than a beast’s. A perverse act fit for lunatics.

Exhausted and collapsing, Jungjoon was showered with kisses by Yoonhae. Burrowing into the inner thighs as if sniffing flesh, he rubbed his face until his nose flattened. He sucked at odorous spots and tender flesh, groaning through his teeth as if drunk. After kissing even the insides of Jungjoon’s toes, he inserted his penis once more.

I want to sow my seed…

I want to sow my seed in you, hyung…

The muttering didn’t cease. The whispered repetition of desire sounded pathological. Just listening felt like sinking into a dark, deep well.

Soon, as he’d endlessly declared, he sprayed his semen. Inside and outside Jungjoon—everywhere. He unleashed an astonishing amount, almost unbelievable in its volume.

He shook his penis over every part. From Jungjoon’s face to his upper body, lower half, even between his toes. The white, sticky fluid seeped and dripped across Jungjoon’s body. When the bizarre ejaculation ended, Jungjoon was, quite literally, a mess of Yoonhae’s scent and semen.

Yoonhae let out a satisfied sigh and pulled Jungjoon into his arms. He rubbed the slick body with his palms. Shivering with rapture, he writhed against Jungjoon like a mollusk.

He gazed at Jungjoon with crazed eyes. Holding the defiled Jungjoon, he groaned and buried his face in his nape. Digging between Jungjoon’s legs, he entwined them, rubbing his still-hot penis. The ecstatic, involuntary hip-thrusting masturbation continued until he calmed himself.

After the seizure-like excitement subsided, he quietly held Jungjoon. Only when the fluids on their skin began to dry did he lift Jungjoon and head to the bathroom. Entering the large tub downstairs together, he washed the limp Jungjoon. The silent, meticulous washing no longer carried lust. It was calm, as if he’d regained reason and returned to sanity.

After washing, they wrapped each other in oversized towels. Wiping off the water, Yoonhae began drying Jungjoon’s hair without even wrapping a towel around his waist. Before Jungjoon’s eyes, Yoonhae’s muscles flexed, his flaccid penis swaying. Not intending to stare, Jungjoon’s gaze still fixed on the dangling sight.

It absorbed his attention, erecting on its own without physical stimulation. Jungjoon, drained, lifted his eyes to gauge Yoonhae’s expression. Yoonhae let out a weary sigh.

“…Let’s go out.”

Making an unexpected suggestion, he slipped on underwear. Jungjoon, sitting dazed, asked.

“Where?”

“Just… somewhere. To get some air.”

Expecting to spread his legs here, Jungjoon was thrown off. The invitation to go out sounded more like a trip beyond a nearby stroll.

Why? Before the question could take hold, Jungjoon hurriedly stood to follow Yoonhae out of the bathroom.

Everything was gradually veering off expectation. From not fully satisfying his desires in the bathroom, to abruptly suggesting they go out, to driving to the nearest city center.

Jungjoon was puzzled. Since escaping that day, he’d assumed he’d never come to a place like this again. He’d thought Yoonhae would never bring him to a crowded, chaotic area. Yet, for some reason, Yoonhae had taken him to the heart of a city near the villa.

Even after stepping out of the car, there were no watchful glares or signs of unease. Nor were Jungjoon’s subordinates trailing them as surveillance.

Yoonhae led him to a samgyetang restaurant, where they ate. Replenishing the energy spent since morning, he then took Jungjoon to a nearby cinema. Following a mundane date-like itinerary, Jungjoon remained baffled, observing Yoonhae’s demeanor.

“Want some popcorn?”

“…No. I’m fine.”

The theater was quieter than expected. Surveying the familiar yet slightly foreign interior, Jungjoon wondered how long it’d been since he’d last visited one. The last time was with his wife when she was alive, making him realize how detached he’d been from such leisure. Most movies he’d watched at home, and the few trips to children’s theaters after his son grew a bit were the extent of his “cultural” outings.

“…”

Unknowingly, he watched young couples dating with wistful eyes. That just a few years ago—spending time with his wife—felt like a distant past was strange.

“Let’s go.”

Yoonhae wrapped an arm around Jungjoon’s shoulder, leading him. Jungjoon glanced at the hand on his shoulder before looking away. Encased by a heavy, long arm, he silently followed where Yoonhae guided.

Entering the auditorium and sitting, the large screen played ads. The seats were about a third full, with theirs slightly toward the back from the middle.

…Is he testing me?

Staring at the screen, the thought struck Jungjoon. If so, Yoonhae’s unpredictable actions since the bathroom made sense.

Yoonhae wanted to see how Jungjoon would act in unpredictable situations. How he’d respond if given freedom, how he’d react to bait casually tossed before him—only then would he judge the truth of Jungjoon’s words.

In times like this, suspicious or cynical behavior was to be avoided. Instead, he needed to instill confidence and earn trust. He had to show he was fully content with this life with Yoonhae, with no intent to escape or return to his old routine.

Gazing at the screen, Jungjoon subtly reached out. He gently grasped Yoonhae’s hand resting on the armrest from below.

“…”

Tension transmitted instantly through the gripped hand. The palm quickly grew hot and damp with sweat. Jungjoon kept his eyes on the screen, not looking at him. Even as the fingers stiffened and the touching palm moistened, Yoonhae didn’t pull away first.

Jungjoon found it oddly amusing. Himself, initiating such intimacy in public. Even during his first movie date with his wife, there’d been no such clandestine acts. Back then, he couldn’t fathom bold skinship, sitting stiffly upright. Even stealing glances at her profile felt overwhelming.

Turning his head absently, Jungjoon caught a gaze. Yoonhae, seated beside him, had turned to look at him. Hiding his surprise, Jungjoon offered a faint smile. Leaning in, he whispered.

“…Is it boring?”

Yoonhae didn’t reply, just stared down at Jungjoon. Playfully scratching his palm with a finger, Yoonhae’s arm tensed instantly. Stiffening as if he’d never bantered before, he turned back to the screen expressionlessly.

For a moment, Jungjoon forgot the movie and studied his face.

“…”

It was because that impassive profile was strikingly handsome. Purely by looks, he could pass for an actor. Had he been a stranger, Jungjoon might’ve stared, entranced, imagining a glamorous life to match that aura, admiring him.

Suddenly, Jungjoon thought life was absurd. Even the finest exteriors often hid rot within, and human illusions merely ended as illusions. Life was pure suffering—born empty-handed, striving tirelessly to grasp something, only to die empty-handed, the universal destination.

A sudden gloom washed over him, and Jungjoon turned his head. He forced the screen’s images into his eyes, though they didn’t register. Scenes and dialogue detached from reality played out. To an unengaged viewer, it just looked like two talented actors doing their best.

As such listless thoughts dragged on, an odd sensation brushed his unguarded palm. Jungjoon soon realized Yoonhae had scratched it with his nail.

Despite the unexpected move, Yoonhae focused on the movie—or pretended to. Jungjoon studied his face but gleaned no meaning. No further actions followed; it was just that single scratch. He soon understood Yoonhae had mimicked his earlier playfulness. The belated, timid retaliation left him oddly rigid.

“…”

Their interlocked hands grew increasingly damp where they touched. Feeling stifled, Jungjoon tried to pull away subtly, but Yoonhae tightened his grip. The stubborn strength conveyed his refusal to let go. Resigned, Jungjoon gave up and faced the screen.

But once he felt stifled, his attention fixated there. Until the movie ended, nothing sank in, consumed only by the hot, wet sensation.

Leaving the theater, they walked the streets aimlessly together. Blooming trees lent vibrant life here and there, and most passersby, in lighter attire, seemed cheerful.

Jungjoon gazed at the lively street with a mix of novelty and estrangement. It’d been a while since he’d seen the outside world—since that day at the hair salon and eating gukbap. Back then, it was winter; now, seeing spring streets, time’s swift flow hit him.

“Anywhere you want to go?”

Yoonhae stopped and asked. Meeting his eyes, Jungjoon replied.

“…How about a café?”

“…”

“Food, movie, café—it’s the basic date course.”

Yoonhae couldn’t tear his eyes from Jungjoon. Staring as if spellbound, he suddenly turned his head. His ears flushed red. Another unfamiliar reaction followed.

“Then… any café you want to go to?”

A strange phrase came to mind: excitement, utterly incongruous. Yet it was the only way to describe Yoonhae’s expression, leaving Jungjoon no choice but to face him silently.

His mood threatened to turn odd again. The Yoonhae before him looked like an ordinary young man anywhere, trying to win a date’s affection.

“…How about there?”

Jungjoon pointed to a large café that caught his eye. He’d chosen it thoughtlessly for its spacious, unburdensome feel.

Turning to check, Yoonhae nodded. Heading toward it, he slowly sidled up to Jungjoon. His hand hovered as if to wrap Jungjoon’s shoulder, then dropped. Noticing the hesitant gesture, Jungjoon got goosebumps. Each awkwardly ticklish move stirred an inevitable discomfort.

The café buzzed with customers, mostly young couples. After a short wait in line, Jungjoon ordered and went to the second floor to secure a spot. Soon, Yoonhae climbed up with their coffee and dessert from downstairs.

Yoonhae approached Jungjoon, seated at a corner window. Sitting on a stool, his cologne wafted over. The distance was close enough for his scent to drift with every move. Gazing out the window, Jungjoon spoke casually.

“The seat’s a bit tight.”

For someone tall and broad like Yoonhae, it was indeed cramped. But he shook his head at Jungjoon. Saying it was fine, he gulped his iced drink, perhaps overheated. Water trickled from his lips as he set the cup down. Jungjoon grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth gently.

“…”

Yoonhae’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at Jungjoon. Driving the point home, Jungjoon forked a piece of cake and offered it to him.

“Want some?”

“…”

Yoonhae stared at Jungjoon gravely. Then he opened his mouth and took the cake.

“How is it?”

His chewing was so serious it didn’t seem like he was eating dessert.

“…It’s good.”

Saying this, he turned his head. His flushed ears and thick neck showed, along with a sharp, handsome nose. Now Jungjoon noticed women across the room glancing at him.

“…”

How do we look to others?

The fleeting curiosity soon faded. Once, it might’ve bothered him, but not now. Having lost everything, such things no longer mattered. Social face, others’ gazes—nothing scared him anymore.

Because he had nothing left to protect.

Jungjoon’s sunken gaze slowly scanned the interior. Dipping briefly into light nostalgia, he surveyed the typical café setting. Large cafés like this had been the easiest spots for client meetings about loans, once as familiar as home. The café’s scent, ambiance, and the dynamic hum of people—all felt like a distant memory.

But these were no longer sensations to miss or cherish—just remnants of the past.

“What are you thinking?”

Turning, he saw Yoonhae staring blatantly, almost piercingly.

“…Just that it’s been a while since I’ve been to a café.”

Replying dryly, Jungjoon looked out the window. Sipping coffee, he felt the gaze. Glancing over, Yoonhae turned away as if he’d never stared. Flustered, he chugged his drink, eyes wandering before settling briefly on Jungjoon’s hand on the table.

Unable to look openly or deftly avert his gaze, his clumsy actions sapped any urge to engage, like dealing with an awkward middle-schooler.

But recalling his purpose, Jungjoon set down his cup. With a hand chilled from the iced drink, he picked up Yoonhae’s beside it. He toyed with the neatly trimmed nails, knobby bones, and veined back before flipping it over.

“Your lifeline’s so short.”

Tracing the palm lines, he said. Rubbing the calluses as he had at home, Yoonhae tensed as if tickled. A sensitive spot? Glancing down, he saw the erection. Thin slacks made it even more obvious.

Avoiding the faint outline of the glans, Jungjoon looked away. Though he hated admitting it, seeing the erect penis triggered a conditioned tension deep in his core. The body’s ingrained habits were terrifying and repulsive.

“…”

Jungjoon deliberately bumped their knees. Offering another piece of cake, he held Yoonhae’s thigh under the table as if steadying it.

Yoonhae obediently ate the cake as fed. Meanwhile, Jungjoon kept up trivial, meaningless touches. Sensing Yoonhae’s tensing muscles, rising heat, and breaths, he mentally planned beyond petty skinship. With no social standing or status left to lose here, it was possible.

Jungjoon genuinely enjoyed driving Yoonhae into this delusion and toying with him. The more these moments piled up, the more there’d be to collapse later—making such base acts feel trivial. He was ready to go beyond what Yoonhae wanted if need be.

Timing it, Jungjoon lightly kissed him. Brief, when no one looked, but brazen enough for a crowded café in daylight. He brushed Yoonhae’s penis under the table, feigning a mistake.

“Sorry,” he muttered softly, pulling back. Yoonhae, flushed to his neck, covered his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Jungjoon asked shamelessly, turning to him.

“Are you sick?”

“…No.”

His desperate attempt to hide was comical. Trying not to reveal his arousal felt contradictory. Before, he’d have pressed his erection against Jungjoon instantly. Or dragged him off to ravage him, maybe rutting like a beast right there.

Once unable to mask his emotions, Yoonhae now grabbed Jungjoon’s hand, clutching it with both of his. Steadying his breath, he turned after a moment. Eyes brimming with condensed feelings met Jungjoon’s—overwhelmed, glistening as if wet.

Unable to hold the gaze, Jungjoon twisted his head away. Saying he’d use the restroom, he hurriedly left his seat.

Even after visiting the bathroom, Jungjoon lingered instead of returning. Seeing Yoonhae’s visibly excited figure from behind dampened his desire to go back. Sighing, he went downstairs, claiming the tissues had run out.

Standing still, dragging time—how long had it been? Soon, he spotted a hulking shadow descending after him. Unable to wait, Yoonhae stood on the stairs, watching Jungjoon’s every move. Like a child who’d dropped something precious, his anxious gestures and eyes were plain even from afar.

“…”

Jungjoon grabbed tissues but deliberately approached the exit. He held the door for a woman juggling a takeout carrier, hands full. Knowing the watchful gaze followed, he acted calmly, unrushed.

Returning to the stairs’ base, Jungjoon pretended to notice Yoonhae only then.

“Why’d you come down?”

Though asked, Yoonhae just stood there, staring down at him. His face was pale. Cold sweat glistened, and his clenched fists trembled with force.

“…Let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“Home. Now.”

Grabbing Jungjoon, he pulled. Handling him roughly like a prisoner, he pushed through the crowd. Outside, he dragged Jungjoon mercilessly, like a man consumed by rage. Curious glances flickered past.

“Wait… hold on!”

Calling out, Jungjoon got no response as Yoonhae quickened his pace.

“Stop, I said!”

Shouting, Jungjoon finally halted the rampaging man.

“…”

His arm, yanked with immense force, throbbed as if dislocated. Passersby stared, and Yoonhae panted like a beast blind to everything.

“Can’t we just… just hold hands and walk?”

At the pleading words, Yoonhae couldn’t muster a response. After standing face-to-face in silence for a while, he finally showed an awkward, childlike expression. Staring at Jungjoon with unsteady eyes for a long moment, he seemed to reconsider and released the arm he’d been gripping. Then, as if adjusting a tangled knot, he took Jungjoon’s hand and interlocked their fingers.

“Wait a sec.”

Jungjoon gestured with his free hand, lowering Yoonhae’s head. As Yoonhae bent down, Jungjoon wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with his palm and the back of his hand.

“You look pale.”

“…”

“Is that why you suddenly wanted to go home? Are you feeling sick?”

Feigning tenderness, Jungjoon watched as Yoonhae’s expression softened, like someone suffering from a fever.

“…Just…”

“Just?”

“Just… I’m fine now.”

Saying this, he walked on, still holding Jungjoon’s hand. His wide, rapid strides gradually softened and slowed. As they walked, warmth slowly returned to his once-cold hand.

Observing Yoonhae’s nervous trauma subside, Jungjoon changed direction and led him. Like Yoonhae had once done, he veered off the main road into an alley.

Yoonhae followed Jungjoon’s lead, puzzled but compliant. After navigating unfamiliar paths and glancing around several times, Jungjoon finally pulled him into a narrow gap between shabby buildings. Pinning him against the wall, he abruptly wrapped his arms around Yoonhae’s neck and crashed their lips together.

From the moment they touched, Jungjoon kissed him frantically, pulling him closer. Tongues tangled, heads tilted, and he sucked messily. He tugged desperately, as if wanting to meld into one, to connect deeply.

Frozen in shock for a few seconds, Yoonhae ignited with excitement, seizing Jungjoon and kissing him fiercely. They kissed as if to devour or destroy each other, consumed by a frantic craving that felt soul-shattering.

“Haa…”

Their wet lips barely parted. Jungjoon blinked heavy eyelids. Through his vision, he saw melted, hazy eyes. Yoonhae’s hot breath poured into his mouth.

Reason didn’t return quickly after the whirlwind act. When clarity finally crept in, Jungjoon found himself in Yoonhae’s arms, checking into a motel at the front desk.

They took the elevator up and reached the room. Before even unlocking the door with the key, Yoonhae’s rough hands began stripping Jungjoon’s shirt. Once inside, he tore everything off right there and kissed him. He sucked on Jungjoon urgently at the doorway, as if he’d die without it.

Undressing himself, Yoonhae thrust his rigid penis into Jungjoon. Standing, he penetrated, then lifted Jungjoon and pounded into him. Only after ejaculating once did they move to the bed. Collapsing onto it together, he rocked his hips wildly. Moaning loudly, he thrust back and forth, ejaculating again, reveling in every sensation as if alone, spraying fluid from his tip at the climax’s peak. Transparent liquid burst onto Jungjoon’s body. Drenched, he pulled Jungjoon close and rubbed their lips together.

“You’re mine now…? Right? Hyung, you’re mine now…? You’re really mine…?”

Like a lunatic, he badgered Jungjoon, gripping and stroking him in a frenzy.

“Tell me, please… Please…? Seo Jungjoon, you’re mine now? Right?!”

Jungjoon nodded, wrapping weak arms around him. Shuddering, Yoonhae pressed himself closer, rubbing his penis against Jungjoon’s most sensitive, tender spot. He scraped roughly, clashing their bodies, biting Jungjoon’s ears and cheeks wherever he could reach. Moaning, wailing, he shed real tears.

“Hyung… Hyung… Ngh, Hyung…, Ah… Ahh… Ugh…!!”

Shaking in his groaning embrace, Jungjoon mocked him inwardly. He’d known it, but Yoonhae was truly a foolish, impoverished soul.

It was laughable he took this seriously. A heart couldn’t change in an instant. That he believed a few days of acting could alter someone’s feelings was astonishing. Had he already forgotten what he’d done to Jungjoon? Ruining a person’s life entirely, stripping everything away—how could he be so shameless? It baffled him.

Though Jungjoon had staged it, it was a grotesque farce. Who could love such a revolting beast—a monster not even hundreds of deaths could redeem? Deceiving this naive, love-starved fool was as easy as expected, but it left a sickening aftertaste.

Jungjoon moaned as he was pierced deeply and shaken. Embracing the clinging flesh, he surrendered to soul-crushing pleasure.

⟡˖ ࣪

Morning brought a heavy body. Feverish and lethargic, it felt like the flu. Given how excessively he’d pushed himself lately, it’d be stranger not to fall ill.

Leaving a request to sleep more with Yoonhae, who checked his fever with a hand, Jungjoon drifted back to sleep. Waking after losing track of time, it was morning, and a cooling patch was on his forehead.

“Has the fever gone down?”

Yoonhae, entering the room, spotted Jungjoon awake and approached. Sitting on the bed, he touched Jungjoon’s cheeks and nape with a worried look.

“Still warm. Let’s go to the hospital later.”

“…For something like this?”

Jungjoon turned his head, brushing off the clinging hand.

“Eat some porridge and take medicine first.”

Yoonhae brought a tray with porridge, dongchimi, medicine, and water. As if waiting, he scooped a spoonful of porridge and held it to Jungjoon’s mouth.

“…I’ll eat it myself. I’m not that sick.”

Jungjoon insisted, but was cleanly ignored. Staring at the unmoving spoon—a silent demand—he reluctantly opened his mouth. Just as he was about to take it, Yoonhae muttered, “Oh, right,” and pulled it back. Blowing to cool it, he offered it again.

“…”

The porridge was pleasantly cooled but utterly unappetizing. Staring at the rice grains, Jungjoon forced his reluctant mouth open to eat. The lukewarm mush mashed on his tongue.

In the same manner, he ate every last spoonful and obediently swallowed two pills before finally lying back down, freed.

Perhaps due to the warmth in his stomach, Jungjoon fell asleep quickly. Once his eyes closed, he sank into deep slumber without a single stir.

At the edge of that deep sleep, he dreamed.

It was a moment from a long-forgotten past.

“Hyung, Hyung, does it hurt here…?”

A night when severe growing pains kept him awake. A young Yoonhae, fussing over him, rubbed his legs.

“I-I’ll rub, rub it for you…”

With tiny hands, he kneaded Jungjoon’s knees. Like kneading dough, his feeble efforts persisted.

“S-Sleep…”

The grip was weak, but the memory was warm. The heat alone seemed to ease the pain.

Feeling that faint strength, his tears had stopped. A strange comfort brought sleep he’d thought wouldn’t come. Since entering the orphanage, it was the first time he’d felt such deep relief in his gut.

It all came back vividly.

Waking from the dream with its tangible sensations, every feeling vanished at once. With clear vision, Jungjoon stared blankly at the ceiling. The revival of a memory he wondered why he’d forgotten left a strange afterglow.

“…Haa…”

Rubbing his face as if to shake it off, he sat up.

Startled while getting out of bed to wash, he noticed Yoonhae belatedly. Unbeknownst to him, Yoonhae was at the bed’s edge. Seated on a chair, he’d fallen asleep awkwardly slumped over the side.

Hesitating, Jungjoon placed a hand on his shoulder. Not deeply asleep, Yoonhae lifted his head instantly.

“Why sleep so uncomfortably? Lie down properly beside me.”

At Jungjoon’s words, Yoonhae rubbed his eyes and pressed his temples.

“…No. I must’ve dozed off.”

Rubbing his face once, he immediately checked Jungjoon’s condition.

“How’s your body?”

“Uh… the fever’s down… I’m much better.”

Running a hand down his nape, Jungjoon added.

“…Thanks.”

It was sincere. He genuinely appreciated the care, in its various forms.

“…”

Yoonhae’s silent stare lingered. After a while, he tilted his head. Turning it unnaturally, he muttered quickly.

“Well… anything else I can do? Need anything more?”

“Huh? No…”

Before finishing, Yoonhae pressed on urgently.

“Want water? Hot tea? Or maybe fruit?”

“…”

“Just say it. I’ll get it right now. If it’s not here, I’ll buy it outside.”

His flustered behavior made him look slightly flushed.

“…No, I’m really fine… I’ll tell you if I need anything.”

Sidestepping the offer, Yoonhae’s bright eyes wavered, as if lost.

“Or do you want to wash? Should I help?”

“No… really, really, I’m fine.”

“…Really? Nothing at all?”

“Yeah. Really… I don’t need anything now.”

“…Okay. Then…”

His shoulders and neck slackened as he lowered his arms.

“Tell me anytime you need something. …I can do anything.”

“…Sure. I will.”

Jungjoon lifted his lips into a faint smile. Yoonhae’s eagerness, like a child hearing thanks for the first time, was tiring, but he hid it.

“Oh… how about a massage? Foot massage?”

Jungjoon grabbed Yoonhae’s arm as he moved toward his feet.

“Don’t. Come here instead.”

With his other hand, he lifted the covers—an invitation to lie together.

“…”

Yoonhae wavered, as if tempted. Jungjoon shifted aside, making more room. After standing still and watching, Yoonhae lay beside him. Jungjoon naturally pulled his arm under his head as a pillow.

“Sorry if… you catch my cold.”

He spouted insincere words.

Silent for a while beside him, Yoonhae suddenly spoke.

“They say it heals if you catch it.”

Turning his head, he added.

“Wanna catch it?”

“…”

Jungjoon gauged his intent. Did he mean sex, or was it a genuine healing suggestion? Confused, he stayed silent as Yoonhae propped himself up and kissed him. Muttering it wasn’t enough, he kissed again with a smacking sound. His tongue slipped in, grazing Jungjoon’s inner lips and gums. Haa… Hot breath spilled from his nose to Jungjoon’s mouth.

“…Hope you recover soon.”

Muttering with a flushed face, Yoonhae puzzled Jungjoon again. Did he truly believe this would help? But spotting his erection below, the confusion settled. Of course, he thought, relieved.

Reaching down to touch his groin, Yoonhae visibly tensed.

“…It’s fine.”

He grabbed Jungjoon’s hand to stop him, his grip sticky with heat.

“…What’s fine?”

Jungjoon smiled faintly, kneading his crotch. It swelled, absorbing every touch.

“Haa…”

Yoonhae groaned as if struggling, tilting his head toward Jungjoon. With familiar ease, Jungjoon lifted his pants and underwear, pulling out his penis. Gripping and rubbing the rigid, hefty shaft, Yoonhae’s thighs twitched repeatedly. Gaining momentum, he bent and straightened his knees, rubbing the sheets with his soles. His taut, muscular abdomen heaved, lust coursing to his toes as he squirmed.

“…Hyung…”

Eyes closed, he called Jungjoon dreamily. His neat lips parted, sighing helplessly. Tilting his chin, he moved his head, chasing pleasure, his lean, masculine cheeks taut.

“…”

Opening feverish eyes, their gazes met. Jungjoon, watching silently, turned away. Yoonhae leaned in, covering Jungjoon’s lips with hot breath. Kissing, Jungjoon diligently stimulated his penis. It was the usual messy kiss, wet sounds accompanying it.

Aroused, Yoonhae hurriedly shed his pants and underwear. Keeping Jungjoon’s touch uninterrupted, he stripped off his shirt too, as if it were a nuisance. Naked, he focused solely on Jungjoon’s hands, consumed by heat.

“Ahh… Ngh… Ah…”

Moaning, he sloppily tangled tongues and sucked lips. His penis, already soaked with precum, made slick noises. That it hadn’t climaxed despite such copious fluid was remarkable. Jungjoon shook the thick, long flesh, feeling his arm ache. Perhaps due to the fever, his stamina was poor.

Noticing the slowing pace, Yoonhae wrapped his hand around his penis and Jungjoon’s, whispering.

“I’ll move…”

Kissing Jungjoon’s nose and eyelids, he shifted. Lying flat, he enveloped Jungjoon’s hand and his penis with his own, starting to move.

Each hip thrust slid his penis in Jungjoon’s hand. Heightened moans burst from Yoonhae’s mouth as he rocked. Clenching even his buttocks, he moved his lower body faster than before.

“Ugh… Ahh, Ngh…!”

For Jungjoon, it was like lending a hand. Just holding lightly, he watched Yoonhae excite himself within it. Is it that good? He seemed excessively aroused.

Thrusting roughly, he stabbed the air. The bed jolted with each recoil. His rippling muscles were a sight—years of development flexing in unison. His pleasure-chasing face flushed, veins bulging, as if he’d cry any moment.

Seo Jungjoon, Seo Jungjoon… Chanting Jungjoon’s name in a trance, he shook and twisted his body noisily. Tightening his grip, Jungjoon felt heat in his palm, pooling below his core as if synchronized.

Yoonhae neared climax. Gripping Jungjoon’s hand and his penis tightly, he threw his head back and ejaculated. The pulsing shaft and throbbing veins transmitted vividly through Jungjoon’s palm.

Post-climax, Yoonhae kissed him with dazed eyes. Holding Jungjoon’s head, he kissed while hastily stripping Jungjoon’s pants with his other hand. He yanked off the silk pajama bottoms and underwear, tossing them under the bed.

Jungjoon’s had stiffened too. He swore he wasn’t aroused—just a conditioned reflex from relentless repetition.

Staring at the clear fluid on the tip, Yoonhae lowered his head. Turning upside down, he buried himself between Jungjoon’s legs. Sucking Jungjoon’s penis, he forced Jungjoon to take his own into his mouth. Burying his face in Yoonhae’s musky groin, Jungjoon reluctantly joined the unwanted oral act.

Yoonhae swallowed Jungjoon’s semen in a few gulps. Pulling his penis from Jungjoon’s mouth, he hurriedly unbuttoned Jungjoon’s pajama top.

Jungjoon knew what was coming. As expected, white, murky fluid splattered onto his chest. His soiled chest heaved with rapid breaths.

Yoonhae gazed at the incomprehensible scene with enraptured eyes for a long while.

An hour later, they descended to the living room after their feverish act.

Even while cleaning the soiled sheets and washing in the bathroom, minor affectionate gestures persisted. Jungjoon, thinking he’d grown used to it, felt renewed fatigue. Yet sweating had helped—the head fever had mostly subsided.

After a simple snack, they were back to having nothing to do. Sprawled on the living room sofa, bodies overlapping, boredom crept in when Jungjoon spoke.

“It’s dull… Should we play some music?”

Yoonhae’s hand, gently stroking Jungjoon’s chest while holding him, paused.

“Want to listen to music?”

“…Yeah, sure…”

“Anything specific? I’ll play it.”

At his question, Jungjoon turned to him.

“Just…”

About to say anything was fine, a sudden curiosity struck. What kind of music did someone like him enjoy? A pure, if odd, wonder.

“What music do you usually listen to?”

Posing it as affectionate curiosity, Jungjoon asked. The typical question for getting to know someone likable felt both absurd and strange.

“…”

For some reason, Yoonhae didn’t answer quickly. Meeting Jungjoon’s eyes, he just pressed their lips together for a while.

“Oh, now that I think of it, when you worked out downstairs, you listened to loud, fast-paced rock or something. You like that?”

Yoonhae lowered his eyes indifferently.

“Not really…”

“What do you usually listen to?”

“…Just…”

Hesitating, he glanced elsewhere and brushed it off gruffly.

“I don’t really listen to music.”

Surprised inwardly by the unexpected reply, Jungjoon nodded calmly. No music? On reflection, it suited him perfectly.

“That makes sense. If you’re busy, there’s no time for music…”

After a strange silence, Yoonhae asked back.

“What about you, Hyung?”

“…Me? I just… listen to old songs when driving. Hits from my 20s.”

Naming a few artists and songs, Yoonhae’s blank expression showed no recognition. Though understandable if uninterested, he looked oddly displeased. Unless Jungjoon misread, his lowered eyelids betrayed a gloomy mood.

“…What about movies? What films did you enjoy?”

“…”

“…What genres do you like? Action? Thriller?”

“…”

A blank face persisted without answers. Watching him, Jungjoon realized a bitter truth: Yoonhae lacked even the common preferences others had.

It seemed he’d never had the foundation to form them. His oddly shallow, impoverished nature—devoid of human warmth—likely stemmed from that fundamental absence.

“What about you, Hyung?”

After another long silence, he asked back.

“…Me? I like Forrest Gump and The Shawshank Redemption. Same lead actor in both, and I like him too.”

Nodding as if chewing it over, Yoonhae blurted out.

“Then I’ll go with those.”

“Huh?”

“My favorite movies.”

“…”

Instead of saying preferences don’t work that way, Jungjoon gave a faint smile.

“Sure… Then we should watch them together sometime.”

Jungjoon veiled his gaze with feigned warmth. A mask of tenderness—like looking at his child or wife, crafting infinite affection. Unable to meet it directly, Yoonhae turned his head bashfully.

“…We should.”

Saying this, he ran a hand down the taut neck beneath his closely cropped hair.

“…”

To Jungjoon, his gestures still seemed immature. His tone, expressions—all unashamedly oozing youth.

Generously, he could pass for an untainted youth or a disciplined soldier.

But in reality, he was neither a fresh-faced young man nor a soldier—just a seasoned thug in his thirties, a businessman rolling in wealth.

An adult too old to exude such naivety in trivial talk, with an appearance and status suggesting seasoned finesse. Thus, his clumsiness evoked not cuteness but absurd dissonance.

His lacking, awkward traits continued. Unable to handle the living room’s modern speakers—never used before—Jungjoon connected the radio via Yoonhae’s phone. When jazz played and Jungjoon offered a hand to dance, Yoonhae flushed, at a loss.

“Dancing… I’ve never tried.”

Lowering his eyes, showing thick lashes, he mumbled. Like a maiden from a classic novel, he couldn’t even look at Jungjoon’s outstretched hand.

“…Not once?”

“…”

“Never even jokingly?”

“…”

He remained silent despite repeated questions.

“I don’t know how to dance either. Just move to the rhythm.”

Offering his hand again, Jungjoon pulled Yoonhae close the moment he stiffly took it. Placing a hand on Yoonhae’s waist, he guided Yoonhae’s to his shoulder. Taking the lead, he made Yoonhae play the woman’s role, stepping slowly.

Jungjoon had never properly learned couple dancing either. He’d only fooled around with his wife a few times. Occasionally swaying haphazardly with his son to music was the extent of his dancing.

“No need to tense up.”

Even following, Yoonhae was overly rigid, as if this were a life-defining test.

Jungjoon couldn’t help laughing mid-lead. A fine figure creaking comically was too funny. Yoonhae blushed to his neck and bowed his head. His height made his flustered face fully visible despite the tilt.

“Don’t you dance alone in the shower?”

He shook his head in denial.

“Singing too? You don’t sing?”

“…What songs?”

“Singing in the shower echoes. Like a karaoke room.”

His eyes asked why anyone would do that.

“What do you live for?”

Teasingly chiding, Jungjoon stopped moving. This time, he pulled Yoonhae’s hand to his waist and shifted his own to Yoonhae’s shoulder.

“Just follow the rhythm however you want. It’s not a big deal.”

“…”

“Now you lead me.”

Perhaps imagined, the hand on his waist seemed to heat up. After a moment, Yoonhae followed, stepping awkwardly. Each attempt to match the music made Jungjoon stifle laughter. Initially stiff, Yoonhae soon laughed too, finding himself ridiculous.

Their dancing radius widened. Growing bolder, he faltered after stepping on Jungjoon’s foot, losing confidence. Honestly, his clumsiness could annoy. No woman would welcome such sloppiness.

A playboy face with such ineptitude—everyone would laugh if they knew. In a real date, he’d be humiliated. As Jungjoon chuckled, Yoonhae laughed along, clueless why, now seeming to enjoy the shared absurdity more than dancing.

Relaxing, he moved naturally to the drumbeats and piano melody. Eventually, he rode the rhythm smoothly. Gaining ease, he gazed down at Jungjoon intently. Radiating undeniable vigor, his eyes revealed ripened lust—opposite his earlier clumsiness.

“…”

Seeing it, he no longer seemed an awkward youth but a bachelor past his prime. Those eager, lustful eyes felt creepy.

The radio song ended, and the host’s voice emerged. Even after, Yoonhae held Jungjoon, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Besides dancing… anything else you haven’t tried?”

Jungjoon asked, stroking his head.

“Should we do them one by one together?”

Yoonhae latched onto the words eagerly.

“…Really?”

“Of course.”

Replying casually, Jungjoon promised falsely. The simplest deception.

“Make a list. Things you’ve never done. We’ll do them together.”

Liking the idea, Yoonhae hugged Jungjoon tightly, nodding into his nape.

Soon, hot hands dug into his clothes. Kissing, he deftly stripped Jungjoon. Confident in this alone. Quickly undressing them both, he entwined their naked bodies.

Exchanging heated kisses, they fell onto the sofa. Warming Jungjoon’s body with practiced hands, he probed inside with thick, long fingers. As their bodies grew sticky, he inserted his penis, effortlessly driving Jungjoon to climax. After several waves of blinding, shattering pleasure, he whispered against their still-hot, overlapping bodies.

“You’re my first, Hyung…”

Sucking Jungjoon’s ear, excited, Jungjoon didn’t catch it at first.

“My first… You…”

“…”

“Dancing… kissing, sex… all… all you, my first…”

Stroking Jungjoon’s body with hot hands, he spilled unwelcome revelations.

“…”

His lips moved to Jungjoon’s nape, sucking the thin skin. Amid confusion, Jungjoon’s body rocked with his caresses. Even in stimulation, “first” lingered in his mind.

First? He knew Yoonhae hadn’t dated anyone. He’d long noticed Yoonhae’s inability to form deep emotional bonds. But to have no sexual experience either? That Jungjoon hadn’t imagined.

Yoonhae was an alpha. A dominant. A grown man earning dirty money. When they met, he was nearing thirty, his looks alone enough to draw eyes on the street.

A virgin? No one would believe it. Kissing too? Unthinkable. Honestly, Jungjoon didn’t want to believe it. Maintaining sexual purity in such conditions and environment went beyond mere “obsession.”

Had he saved himself for Jungjoon all this time?

The thought was more than chilling—it was terrifying. Jungjoon thought he’d grasped Yoonhae’s sick fixation, but this felt like peering into an abyss. Suppressing basic human urges until that age, all for a fleeting childhood bond—a same-sex “brother”—was unspeakably bizarre.

“With women… no, men either… no omegas?”

An alpha’s strongest sexual lure was omegas. With heat cycles, resisting an omega’s pheromones wouldn’t be simple willpower. That instinct was beyond human control. Alphas couldn’t survive without venting desire through omegas, like an unpurgeable need.

“None… no one… only you, Hyung…”

Whispering to a bewildered Jungjoon, Yoonhae sucked and pecked his lips.

“…Why…?”

Rolling empty, glass-like eyes, he asked blankly.

“Didn’t want to. Didn’t want anyone but you…”

Only with you… only you…

“I’ve only done it with you… You took all my firsts…”

So I’ll only do it with you until I die…

Whispering drunkenly, he dug back into Jungjoon’s semen-soaked insides.