PV Ch.2 Part 4

A slow smile spread across Han Biseong’s usually stoic features. 

Seeing that Bomin’s body was still resisting, he tightened his grip on his hip and thrust forward. 

Bomin froze, his eyes widening, his lips parting in a silent moan as Han Biseong’s c*ck breached his entrance, stretching him open. He couldn’t even swallow, the saliva pooling in his mouth, spilling down his chin like a trail of blood. 

He hit the wall with a thud, the impact jarring his teeth. Han Biseong’s hand moved from his hip to his ass, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh, punishing him for his earlier defiance. Bomin cried out, his face contorting in pain.

He shifted, angling his head so that his cheek, rather than his bruised face, took the brunt of the impact. 

“Haa… A-ahh… Slow… Nggh… Slower…”

Even slick with precum, it wasn’t enough. Each thrust was like being torn open, and he was sure he was going to bleed. The only saving grace was the sheer size of Han Biseong’s c*ck. At least it hit all the right spots, even if it felt like his insides were being pulverized.

He tried to move with him, to lessen the pain, to find some semblance of pleasure in the brutal assault. He failed.

Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground, his vision blurring. Even before, he’d been barely able to keep his balance, his toes scraping the floor. Now, held aloft by Han Biseong’s strength, he was completely at his mercy. 

“Nggh… A-ahh… I’m going to… die…”

The blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy, amplifying the feeling of fullness. It wasn’t that he was being ripped apart—not exactly—but the sheer size of Han Biseong’s c*ck, filling him completely, stretching him beyond his limits, was excruciating. 

Tears streamed down his face, mixing with his sweat as the rough rasp of skin against skin filled his ears. 

“Ahh… Haa…” 

The onslaught continued, relentless and brutal. Bomin stared at the ceiling, his vision blurring, clinging to his sanity with a desperate ferocity. 

He was vaguely aware of Han Biseong grunting, his thrusts becoming erratic before he finally stilled, his essence spilling into Bomin in a hot rush. Bomin’s voice, which had regained some of its usual strength, broke, his cries dissolving into hoarse whimpers. 

Han Biseong shifted, his c*ck still buried deep inside, the slickness of his release providing a much-needed lubricant. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were hooded, almost dazed as he rode out his high, savoring the feel of Bomin’s walls clenching around him.

Bomin, on the other hand, simply endured, his body trembling in the aftermath, the sensation of his magic being siphoned away leaving him feeling cold and empty.

“Haa… Good work today, Guide Lee Bomin.” 

With his Guiding complete, Han Biseong wasted no time in discarding him. Bomin crumpled to the ground, his body throbbing, his breath catching in a pained gasp. 

He didn’t bother covering himself. He could feel the wet heat of Han Biseong’s release coating his skin, but his insides felt raw, abraded.

S*x with these men wasn’t always pleasurable. Their size alone made it a painful experience. But this… this had been different. This had been almost violent, a violation that brought back memories he’d rather forget. 

“Got another call. See you around.”

Bomin’s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry with tears. He watched as Han Biseong glanced at his wrist before leaping over the railing, disappearing from view.

“Fuck…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his cheek. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white.

‘Stop it…’

‘Stop it now? After you’re the one who seduced me?’

He’d been sitting alone at a bar, drowning his sorrows, when the man had slipped onto the stool next to him. Bomin had smiled back at the man’s easy grin, his gaze drawn to his handsome face and charming demeanor. They had talked, had laughed, had drunk together, and then Bomin, in a rare moment of reckless abandon, had agreed to go back to the man’s place.

‘Haa… Why so eager…?’

He’d tried to hide his inexperience, but the man’s eagerness had taken him by surprise. He’d pulled back, needing a moment to catch his breath as the man’s hands roamed over his body, stripping him bare. That’s when the man’s demeanor had changed, his smile turning cold. 

‘Don’t fucking tease me, you c*cktease.’

‘What did you just…? Ugh…’

Before Bomin could react, the man had flipped him over.

‘Oh…’

He’d found himself pinned to the cheap motel bed, the scent of air freshener filling his nostrils. Before he could protest, the man was on top of him, his hands already working at the buckle of his belt, his movements practiced and rough. 

‘Get the fuck off me, you asshole!’

Bomin had thrashed out, kicking the man in the groin. The man yelped, momentarily stunned, and rolled off him.

He’d scrambled back, trying to get away, but the man had anticipated his move, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. 

‘You were asking for it.’

His kick must not have been strong enough. The man was back on his feet in an instant, his face contorted in a mask of rage, his grip on Bomin’s wrists bruising. 

Bomin tried to scramble back, but it was too late. 

His head spun as he was shoved back onto the bed, blow after blow raining down on him. The man’s hand, large and calloused, collided with his face, his cheek, his jaw, the force of each blow sending a jolt of pain through his body. 

The first blow broke his nose, the second split his lip. 

‘Agh…’

Bomin had never been hit before. He’d never known pain like this. His vision swam, his body curling in on itself, seeking a shield from the onslaught.

‘Fuck… And you’re even hotter down here…’

The man flipped him over, his hand moving to rip away the last of his clothes. Bomin felt a cold dread wash over him as the man’s er*ction pressed against him. 

He knew what was coming. He’d come to this bar, to this part of town, looking for it. But not like this. Never like this. 

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, trying to clear his head, to regain some semblance of control. 

Just as the man’s fingers brushed against his entrance, Bomin lashed out. 

‘Agh!’ 

He’d channeled all his fear, all his rage, into that single kick, his foot connecting with the man’s face with a sickening crunch. 

He didn’t stop to gather his clothes. He scrambled off the bed, his body shaking, his legs unsteady. He had to get out, had to get away.

But his hands were bound, and his legs felt like lead. He half-ran, half-stumbled down the hallway, the man’s enraged shouts echoing behind him. 

Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision.

‘In here.’

A door swung open, and he was pulled inside, his body colliding with another. 

‘Let go of…’ 

He flinched away, the memory of his assault still fresh, his body on high alert. 

‘It’s okay.’ 

A blanket was thrown over him, the weight surprisingly comforting. He curled in on himself, burying his face in the soft fabric, and finally, he broke. 

‘Hng… Who… Who are you…?’

The voice was different from his attacker’s, deeper, more soothing. The man didn’t answer, but Bomin felt himself being lifted, carried back to the bed. 

The blanket shifted, and he felt the pressure on his wrists ease as the man unbuckled the belt. He reached up, his hands trembling, and pulled the blanket away from his face. 

The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp, but even in the shadows, he could see the man’s face clearly. And at that moment, Bomin knew… He was gone. 

“Fuck…”

He tasted the word, the curse a bitter tang on his tongue. He hated these memories, these flashbacks that Han Biseong’s actions had dragged to the surface. He shivered, his body wracked with chills as the adrenaline leached out of him. 

He lay there, his thighs slick with Han Biseong’s release, unable to summon the energy to even close his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth clenching, trying to block out the memories, the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. 

When he finally opened his eyes, his pupils were blown wide, the darkness in their depths absolute, reflecting nothing. 

***

“Hyung, have you seen Lee Bomin?”

Han Biseong, in the middle of a set of dumbbell presses, frowned at Song Jaeho’s question. Now that he thought about it… he hadn’t seen Bomin around the Guild for a while.

He hadn’t caught even a glimpse of the Guide since that last Guiding session on the rooftop. Bomin should have been clinging to him, vying for his attention as usual.

“No.” 

“What? You haven’t seen him either, hyung? Where’d he disappear to?”

“Call him for a Guiding session.”

“That’s the problem, he’s not answering.”

Frustration laced Song Jaeho’s words, and he ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing it up. 

“Get another Guide. It’s not like he’s the only one in the Guild.”

“I know, but…” 

As Han Biseong had said, the Guild housed numerous Guides. While every nation faced a Guide shortage – there were always more Espers than Guides – S-rank Espers never felt the scarcity.

The Guild prioritized their needs, ensuring they always had access to Guides.

Song Jaeho, like Bomin, had a considerable number of Guides he could call upon, both for regular sessions and one-time needs. 

Yet, ever since their session a few days ago, Song Jaeho couldn’t shake the memory of Bomin. The image of the Guide’s flushed face, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Song Jaeho pounded into him, would surface at the most inopportune moments, lingering before fading away. 

“Whatever. Let me know if you find him. I’m out.”

Seeing that even Han Biseong had no idea where Bomin was, Song Jaeho left the training room without another word. He’d received a message from the Esper Rampage Management Division that morning, strongly advising him to have a Guiding session as soon as possible. 

Two days of clearing a Rank A dungeon in Busan had taken their toll, his Breakdown Risk level spiking. He needed a Guiding session, and he needed it now. 

“Where the hell could he be…?”

His usual carefree smile was gone, his brow furrowed in thought as he headed towards his next destination. As far as he could remember, Bomin was a creature of habit, his routine predictable to a fault. 

He’d visited every place Bomin frequented, but with no luck. Frustration gnawed at him, and he chewed on his bottom lip, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.

***