PV Ch.2 Part 3

Bomin ate the porridge and swallowed the medicine, feeling his energy slowly returning. After showering and changing into clean clothes, he applied the ointment to his wounds, wincing as he spread it over the angry welts on his back and the cuts on his face. 

He carefully dabbed some inside the torn flesh, stifling a moan at the sharp sting. It felt strangely… different. 

“…This isn’t… ordinary ointment, is it?”

He stood there for a moment, waiting for it to dry, not wanting to get any on his sheets. 

To his surprise, he felt a tingling sensation spread across his skin. The bruises that had marred his flesh began to fade, the angry colors receding until his skin was once again its usual pale shade. Even the cuts on his lips healed, the swelling subsiding. 

“Who are you?”

He wanted to thank his mysterious benefactor, but he had no idea who it could be. Was it the same person who had carried him back to his room? Or someone else entirely?

Bomin pulled out his phone, tempted to message the likely suspects, but decided against it. It would be pointless, and he knew it. 

“You work fast.”

He was famished again, his stomach growling even after the porridge. He patted his flat stomach and went to his closet, searching for something to wear.

The only clothes he had were his Guide uniform. It seemed the original Bomin hadn’t cared much for fashion. 

He rummaged through his belongings, hoping to find at least a decent watch or pair of shoes. He found two pairs of plain dress shoes and a pair of sneakers, nothing more.

“First thing I’m buying when I get paid… New clothes.”

He’d been planning on using his meager savings for food, but now that he was in control, he could spend his earnings as he pleased. And he fully intended to. 

He pocketed his wallet and phone and left the dorm. He could have eaten at the cafeteria downstairs, but he felt strangely restless. He needed to get out, to explore the Guild and all it had to offer. 

“Look out!”

“What the-?!”

His leisurely stroll came to an abrupt halt as a commotion erupted nearby. The Guild was enormous, practically a small town, with a large lake at its center, surrounded by buildings and several hills. 

At that moment, the lake was erupting, water rising into the air like a monstrous serpent.

People were running and screaming, their voices echoing across the water. 

“…What the…”

Bomin stared, mesmerized. This was the first time he’d seen an Esper using their abilities in person.

He didn’t have time to process the sight. The water surged towards him, the monstrous form shifting, morphing into a giant whip. 

Some people were able to dodge instinctively, their bodies reacting before their minds could catch up. But most simply froze, their own mortality thrown into sharp relief against the overwhelming power of the ability. 

Unfortunately, Bomin belonged to the latter group. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, but his body refused to obey. 

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact. 

The pain never came. 

Instead, he was pulled into a cold embrace, the scent of something clean and crisp filling his nostrils. He opened his eyes, his head swimming, to find himself staring into a pair of ice-blue eyes, cold and sharp as shards of ice. 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the man asked, his voice as cold as his eyes. “If so, at least do it somewhere private where it won’t reflect poorly on me.”

“…..”

The monstrous wave of water, mere inches from crushing Bomin, was frozen solid, a magnificent and terrifying ice sculpture now looming over the plaza. But even the chill emanating from the frozen beast paled in comparison to the iciness in the eyes of the man holding him. 

His skin was pale, almost translucent, his features sharp and angular. His hair and eyes were dark, almost black, but a closer look revealed subtle blue undertones. 

They were so close that Bomin could see his reflection in those icy depths. And that’s when it hit him: this was the last of the male leads from the novel. 

Yoon Bisam. Even more handsome in person. 

All the men Bomin had been with were attractive in their own right, but Yoon Bisam was on another level entirely. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a comic book, his features so perfect they were almost unreal. Next to him, anyone would look dull and insignificant. 

Bomin stared, speechless, his mouth slightly open. He yelped as a sharp pain shot across his cheek. Yoon Bisam had slapped him, his touch light but enough to leave a red mark on Bomin’s pale skin. 

“Ow…”

He touched his cheek gingerly, his eyes wide with confusion. 

“Answer me.” 

Bomin blinked, momentarily stunned. And then he remembered. He remembered Yoon Bisam’s personality as described in the novel. 

A control freak, through and through. 

Even during s*x, he demanded complete control, dictating every move, every sound. But he was undeniably good at what he did—his looks, abilities, and skills in bed were unmatched. He was used to Guides falling at his feet, hopelessly devoted.

…The original Bomin included.

But this wasn’t the original Bomin. And as he stared into those ice-blue eyes, a flicker of something hot and defiant sparked in Bomin’s chest. 

His heart began to race. He was more excited now than he’d been even when facing near-certain death moments before. 

Han Biseong, Song Jaeho, Won Seongwoo, and now Yoon Bisam.

None of them were easy targets. All of them saw him as nothing more than a convenient stress reliever, a toy to be used and discarded at their leisure.

And for the first time, he felt something more than a simple desire for physical satisfaction. He wanted to see them crave him, wanted to be the one in control. He wanted to win. 

He didn’t hesitate. 

“…Sorry. I wasn’t feeling well,” he murmured, his voice soft, apologetic.

He reached up and gently pried Yoon Bisam’s hand away from his face, his touch lingering. He felt Yoon Bisam stiffen, his hand twitching beneath his own. 

“Thank you for saving me,” he added, his gaze steady.

Normally, he would have lashed out, his pride wounded. He hated being dismissed, hated being ignored, but at that moment, something else drove him, something stronger and far more dangerous than his usual pride. 

Yoon Bisam stared at him, his brow furrowing slightly, his eyes narrowed. He’d expected anger, maybe even tears, not this… meek submission. 

A strange warmth spread through him as Bomin’s fingers gently caressed his cheek, the touch at odds with the coldness of his skin. 

Before he could react, he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Let go of him,” a voice said, sharp and cold. 

Bomin found himself whisked away, pulled into a warm embrace. He looked up to see Han Biseong, his expression unreadable. Held against Han Biseong’s broad chest, he felt smaller than ever, almost fragile.

Han Biseong tightened his grip, his fingers flexing against the smooth skin of Bomin’s back. It felt… different than he remembered. Softer. 

***

Bomin found himself backed against a wall, a strong arm wrapped around his waist. His vision swam, the scenery shifting around him like a carnival ride. He’d been pulled away from Yoon Bisam before anything could happen. 

Some flowers bloomed even in the heart of the desert, their petals drinking in the scorching sun, their fragrance intoxicatingly intense.

Even before Bomin saw his captor’s face, the scent hit him full force. 

“Haa… W-Wait…”

Each time Han Biseong’s broad chest pressed against him, he felt a jolt of pain, his bruised cheek throbbing. A tongue, hot and insistent, slipped into his mouth, tasting of fire and spice. 

Han Biseong was bigger in every way, even his tongue. Bomin’s body trembled, his jaw slack, unable to form a coherent thought as he was consumed by the other man’s kiss.

“Grab the wall and tilt your ass out.” 

The searing heat of Han Biseong’s tongue finally retreated, allowing Bomin to suck in a much-needed breath. He barely had time to recover before Han Biseong spun him around, his large hand gripping his hip, the touch possessive. Bomin’s hand instinctively reached for the wall as he felt his pants, along with his underwear, being pulled down.

His c*ck, no longer confined by fabric, twitched in the cool air, its pink tip already beaded with arousal. It bobbed invitingly as if beckoning the hardening length hovering near its entrance.

The heat of that touch, the feel of rough denim pressing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, sent a shiver through Bomin. He bit his lip, instinctively pressing back against the hand, seeking more contact despite his earlier protest. 

But the anticipated feeling of being filled, of being stretched, never came. Instead, a sharp sting on his backside had him gasping. 

Han Biseong watched, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger, as Bomin’s ass quivered with each swat, his small erection bobbing enticingly. 

His own c*ck, thick and veined, quickly hardened. He slicked it with precum, his other hand reaching down to tease Bomin’s entrance. 

“Ahh…”

“Feels good?”

Han Biseong’s finger pushed inside, searching for that sensitive spot deep inside. It should have hurt, but Bomin was already wet, his body betraying his earlier reluctance. 

“I need… lube…”

He knew that the initial pain would give way to something else, something hot and consuming, but he wasn’t quite ready to surrender to the discomfort. He turned his head, his eyes pleading. 

“Don’t need it. You’re used to this. Be patient.”

“Nggh… A-Ahh…”

Ignoring his plea, Han Biseong began to push inside, stretching him open with two fingers. Bomin gasped, his muscles clenching around the intrusion. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat beading on his brow as the pain intensified, but Han Biseong was unfazed. He relished the feel of Bomin’s tight hole clenching around him, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.