PV Ch.10 Part 4

“Ah…”

The moment the plea left his lips, he felt Jeong Hotae’s c*ck sinking into him, thick and hard, filling him completely. He gasped again as Jeong Hotae’s heavy balls slapped against his ass, the weight of him a welcome pressure. 

Jeong Hotae leaned forward, his arms wrapping around Bomin, holding him close as he started to move, his thrusts quick and deep.

“Ah… haa… mmm…”

Bomin’s hips bucked against the onslaught, his thighs trembling as Jeong Hotae pounded into him, his thrusts forceful enough to bruise. He felt his vision whiting out, his senses overloaded, his body on the verge of shattering.

This was Jeong Hotae. He’d been with countless others, but only Jeong Hotae could make him feel this way, could make him lose himself completely, body and soul.

He was slick with prec*m, his inner walls clinging to Jeong Hotae’s c*ck, refusing to let go. Each time Jeong Hotae pulled back, Bomin felt his insides clenching, desperate to keep him inside. The sight of Bomin’s eagerness, the way he was practically begging for more, made Jeong Hotae’s smile widen. 

“Haa… Ahhh…!”

Jeong Hotae reached out, his fingers closing around Bomin’s n*pples, pinching them hard. He gasped, arching his back, the sensation sending a jolt of pain through him, a pain that quickly morphed into something else, something hotter, more intense. 

His c*ck, already slick with his earlier release, hardened fully. 

“It’s so hot, the way you get off on just getting fucked. You’re such a little slut.”

Jeong Hotae chuckled, pulling Bomin up, his arm tightening around his shoulders. He kept thrusting, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing in the room. Bomin’s c*ck bobbed obscenely, his arms flailing as Jeong Hotae held him captive, his body consumed by waves of pleasure. 

“Everything about you is so… sensitive.” 

Jeong Hotae’s voice was a low murmur against his ear, his tongue tracing a wet path along Bomin’s cheek. Bomin’s lashes, wet with tears, looked like ink-stained feathers against his pale skin. 

“Ah… Mmm… Haa…”

He couldn’t even open his eyes, lost in the sensation of Jeong Hotae moving inside him, claiming him, filling him.

The sound of their skin slapping together, the rhythm of their movements, Jeong Hotae’s ragged breaths… It was a symphony of pleasure, driving him closer and closer to the edge. 

He tried to squirm, to move, to break free from the overwhelming sensation, but Jeong Hotae held him fast. 

“Do you like my c*ck that much?” 

He chuckled, his voice low and husky, his tongue tracing the shell of Bomin’s ear. Bomin shivered, his body hypersensitive, every touch, every sound, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“When I bury myself deep inside you, your stomach… It bulges out like this. Can you feel it?”

He shifted his grip, pinning Bomin’s arms to his sides, his other hand pressing against Bomin’s lower abdomen. 

It was true. Bomin’s usually flat stomach was distending slightly with each thrust, molded around the impressive length of Jeong Hotae’s c*ck. 

“Ah… Haa…”

Jeong Hotae’s fingers trailed down, tracing a line from Bomin’s navel downwards, his touch light, teasing. Bomin’s body convulsed, his muscles clenching around Jeong Hotae’s c*ck. 

“You’re the most responsive person I’ve ever been with.”

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as Bomin’s c*ck twitched, leaking a clear, watery fluid. 

Bomin was lost in a haze of pleasure, his mind shutting down, his body taking over. Jeong Hotae shifted his angle, thrusting deeper, hitting a spot that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He moaned, his body bucking instinctively. 

With each thrust, he felt a thin stream of fluid escaping his c*ck, splattering against his stomach, his thighs. His groin was a mess, slick with c*m and prec*m. His face wasn’t much better.

Jeong Hotae’s hand snaked up, his fingers closing around Bomin’s throat, his grip tightening. Bomin gasped, his face draining of color as he struggled to breathe. 

He clawed at Jeong Hotae’s hand, trying to pry his fingers loose, but Jeong Hotae only squeezed harder.

At the same time, he felt a familiar pull, a draining sensation as his guiding energy flowed into Jeong Hotae, a torrent of power that left him feeling weak and shaky.

His breath hitched, coming in short, ragged gasps. Jeong Hotae slammed into him, burying himself to the hilt. 

Bomin’s eyes rolled back, the light fading from them.

“Nghh…”

Jeong Hotae groaned, his c*ck throbbing inside Bomin. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He came, his release a hot, powerful surge that filled Bomin to the brim, spilling out around their joined bodies. 

He kept thrusting, even as Bomin went limp in his arms, his movements becoming frantic, desperate. Bomin was lost in a daze, his pupils dilated, his body unresponsive. 

“Haa… You’re so good… Bomin-ssi.”

He whispered the words against Bomin’s ear, his lips trailing down to Bomin’s bruised neck, sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of dark marks.

The tips of his hair, usually a dark gray, flickered silver, then faded back to their original color.

Bomin’s eyes fluttered closed, his body finally giving in to exhaustion. Jeong Hotae held him close, continuing to fuck him, coming again and again, his movements growing rougher, less controlled. He cursed softly as Bomin’s body twitched beneath him, but he didn’t stop, not until he was spent, until he’d emptied himself completely.

He only stopped when the bracelet on his wrist beeped, a discreet reminder of his other obligations. 

“I’ll be back soon. Keep yourself warm for me, alright?”

He gave Bomin one last kiss, lingering on his cheek, before reluctantly pulling away. He glanced down at Bomin’s unconscious form, his lips curving into a smile as he saw the way Bomin’s body trembled despite his exhaustion. Then, he turned and left the room.

Bomin’s entrance, swollen and sensitive, continued to leak Jeong Hotae’s c*m, a steady stream of white against his pale skin. His eyes flickered open, a cold fire burning in their depths, but he quickly closed them again, his body refusing to cooperate.

He needed to wake up, to get his bearings, but he couldn’t. His throat ached, his stomach churned, a dull throbbing pain radiating from his lower body. The fever he’d been battling had returned with a vengeance, amplified by the exertion, by the violation.

He couldn’t even think straight. 

He hadn’t expected that bastard to follow him here.

He was still full of Jeong Hotae’s c*m, a heavy, uncomfortable pressure against his insides. The thought of it, the memory of Jeong Hotae choking him, using him… He shuddered, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

But why was he wearing Jeong Hotae’s face?

The fever was making it difficult to focus, but he couldn’t stop thinking, analyzing.

At first, he’d been fooled. The face, the voice, the mannerisms… It had all been so real. But as they’d fucked, as he’d lost himself in the sensations, he’d started noticing the discrepancies. 

The real Jeong Hotae, for all his flaws, had always treated him with a certain tenderness during s*x, as if Bomin was the most precious thing in the world. Like he was afraid of hurting him, afraid of breaking him.

But this… This wasn’t Jeong Hotae.

He knew it was pointless to try to rationalize it. He’d seen it happen before, with his other partners. One night with him, and they were hooked. Even the ones who’d initially seemed aloof, distant… they’d all become obsessed.

But most of them had been… sane. They’d respected his boundaries, had backed off when he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in anything more. 

Only one had become truly fixated. 

He’d thought it was Jeong Hotae.

His heart ached, a dull, throbbing pain that mirrored the ache in his body. He hated this, hated that he still cared, hated that Jeong Hotae still had this hold over him.

The anger, he realized, was just a mask, a way to hide his true feelings, the despair that threatened to consume him. He’d wanted to see Jeong Hotae again, but he was already dead.

He’d woken up in this fictional world, hoping for a fresh start, but even here, it seemed, Jeong Hotae was out of reach. 

He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t see it, didn’t notice the flickering lights, the way the room was plunged into darkness as the single bulb overhead sputtered and died.

A shadow, darker than the surrounding darkness, detached itself from the corner of the room, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape. By now, even Bomin, lost in his despair, could sense something was wrong.

A chill ran through the room, the air growing heavy, oppressive. 

The shadow, as if drawn to him, glided towards the bed, its movements silent, predatory. Bomin held his breath, his body tense, wary. 

He was too sore, too exhausted. One more round, and he might actually break.

He knew there was no one here who cared about him, no one who would hesitate to use him, to hurt him. His throat, still raw and bruised, throbbed in protest. 

The sheet was pulled away from his face, the movement swift and silent. He felt a hand on his head, fingers gently combing through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. 

He frowned, confused by the tremor in those fingers, a tremor that spoke of… hesitation. And then, he caught it, a familiar scent, a mix of warmth and bitterness, and he couldn’t help but flinch, forgetting to pretend to be asleep.

“…Just hold on a little longer. I’ll get you out of here soon.”

The hand cupped his cheek, gently stroking the frown lines on his forehead. The touch lingered, then stilled as the man felt the wetness of Bomin’s tears against his palm.

“…I’m sorry.”

The words were a whisper, filled with a sorrow that mirrored Bomin’s own. It was a voice filled with regret, with a haunting loneliness, like the wind whistling through an abandoned city.

Bomin opened his eyes, the world coming into focus slowly. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and then he saw it: a figure, dissolving into thin air, leaving nothing but an empty space where he’d been kneeling.

“What the…?”

He trailed off, staring at the spot where the man had been, his mind struggling to comprehend what he’d just witnessed. He noticed the bloodstains, a dark, glistening pool on the carpet. 

The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, overwhelming, almost suffocating. He touched the sheets, his fingers coming away sticky with crimson. 

He stared at the empty space, his eyes wide with confusion and… fear. 

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