PV Ch.3 Part 2

The harsh fluorescent lighting in the elevator highlighted the man’s paleness, the bruises standing out in stark contrast to his porcelain skin. 

Shi Yu-hyeon’s gaze lingered on the one that stood out the most, a dark mark near his neck. 

He hesitated as the elevator doors opened, his feet rooted to the spot. Just as the doors began to close, he stepped forward, holding them open, and made his way towards his apartment.

The lock clicked, and he stepped inside. His apartment was as he’d left it, untouched since he’d left for work that morning. He knelt down and carefully removed the man’s shoes, placing them neatly beside his own.

“Hnn…”

Even as he laid the man down on his bed, the man flinched, his body curling in on itself as if he’d been struck. His shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his bones. 

Shi Yu-hyeon’s gaze lingered on the man’s protruding spine, as delicate as his wrists.

“Excuse me.”

He had to get the man out of those damp clothes. He gently shook the man’s shoulder, but the man only whimpered, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

“He’s burning up.”

He touched the man’s forehead, his hand recoiling at the intense heat.

“I’m not… doing this because I… want anything from you,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re sick. I’m just trying to… help.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain himself. The man was unconscious, oblivious to his actions. 

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of the man’s shirt, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. 

“Haa… Please… stop…”

He was about to pull the shirt off when the man stirred, his hand reaching out to push him away, his voice a distressed whimper. 

Shi Yu-hyeon froze, startled by the touch, the unexpected heat of the man’s hand against his own chilled skin sending a jolt through him. 

“Hng… It hurts… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

The man thrashed on the bed, his cries laced with a terror that went beyond a simple fever dream. Shi Yu-hyeon waited, his hand hovering, his gaze fixed on the man’s face.

He looked so fragile, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. He’d been trying to help, but if his actions were causing the man more distress, he would stop, cover him with a blanket, and wait for him to wake up. 

The man’s shirt rode up as he thrashed, revealing a sliver of pale skin.

“What the…”

His waist, slender enough that Shi Yu-hyeon’s hands could probably encircle it, was mottled with dark bruises. He compared the marks to his own hand.

They were the size of an adult male’s hand. He could see the imprint of fingers, the skin discolored from the force of the grip.

Shi Yu-hyeon staggered back, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He braced himself against the edge of the bed, his hand shaking.

“No, this isn’t… that place…”

His voice was a choked whisper, barely audible. He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged, the air in the room heavy with the man’s muffled sobs.

He waited, focusing on the sound of the man’s distress, repeating the words in his mind: this isn’t that place, this isn’t that place.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze was steady, resolute. He unbuttoned the man’s pants, his movements swift and precise, his earlier hesitation gone. 

The bruises were visible even through the fabric of the man’s underwear. He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening as he pulled them down, revealing the man’s bare legs. 

The only light in the room came from a small lamp on the bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. But even in the dim light, the marks were impossible to miss, burned into Shi Yu-hyeon’s memory. 

They weren’t just on his waist and hips. There were more on his thighs, his b*ttocks, and… His entrance was swollen, bruised, as if it had been abused. 

The sight of that tender flesh, red and raw, made Shi Yu-hyeon’s stomach clench.

“Hng… Stop… Please…”

He pulled the blanket over the man, covering him, trying to erase the image from his mind. It could have been a lover, rough sex gone wrong. 

But the man’s whimpers, his trembling, his fear… It was all too familiar, echoing something deep within Shi Yu-hyeon, something he’d locked away, hidden behind layers of guilt and shame.

“Just… Wait here.”

He stumbled out of the room, his legs unsteady, and went to the bathroom. He filled the sink with hot water, soaking several towels. He wrung them out and carried them back to the bedroom, his hands shaking. 

The man was quiet now, his sobs reduced to weak whimpers, his movements beneath the blanket barely perceptible. 

Shi Yu-hyeon carefully cleaned the man’s sweat-dampened skin, his hands trembling despite his efforts to stay calm. He winced as he dabbed at the bruises, each touch sending a jolt of pain through him, a phantom ache. He didn’t dare go near his entrance. 

He retrieved some ointment and applied it to the bruises, avoiding the most sensitive areas. Then, he dressed the man in a clean pair of underwear and a t-shirt, clothes he’d never worn, before pulling the blanket back over him. The man’s face relaxed, his whimpering ceasing as if the nightmares had finally receded. 

He wiped away a stray tear from the man’s cheek, his heart aching.

“I don’t even know your name… but you don’t have to worry anymore,” he whispered.

He’d failed to protect someone once before. This man, this stranger, felt like a chance to atone, a way to ease the burden of guilt he’d carried for so long. 

As his words faded into silence, the sleeping man’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a flicker of contentment hidden from Shi Yu-hyeon’s gaze.

***

On the windswept rooftop, Bomin slowly pushed himself to his feet. The c*m that had leaked out had dried, but the moment he moved, more spilled out, a warm, sticky mess.

He gritted his teeth and shoved a finger inside, using it like a hook to scrape out the remaining c*m. 

“Ahh…”

Pain shot through him, his swollen walls protesting the intrusion. Once his finger came back clean, he pulled it out and wiped himself with his underwear, then pulled up his pants. He felt drained, his body heavy.

“Guides are useless…”

Apart from their ability to guide Espers, their physical capabilities were no different from ordinary humans. Jumping off this rooftop, like Han Biseong had just done, would be suicide for him.

Espers had accelerated healing abilities, but Guides didn’t. And the power difference was staggering. Even if Han Biseong had forced himself on him, all he could do was whimper and plead. 

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to his feet. His body swayed precariously with each step. 

He stumbled through the rooftop door and down the stairs, leaning heavily against the railing. It wasn’t until he was back on solid ground that he realized Han Biseong had brought him to the Guide dormitory.

He supposed he should be grateful that he’d been fucked on the roof, rather than dragged somewhere else.

Back in his room, he showered and changed, opting for casual clothes rather than his Guide uniform: a white shirt and semi-formal pants. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his phone and wallet, and headed for the door. A wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him to grip the doorframe for support. 

“Too sore to even feel hungry…”

Normally, he’d be craving something specific, something calorie-dense to replenish his energy. But he’d been exposed to the cool night air for a while, half-naked, and his body was starting to ache. He felt a cold coming on.

“Might as well use this to my advantage.”

He pulled out his phone and applied for a week’s leave from the Guide Management Department.

The original Bomin had never used a single day of his vacation or personal time. He’d been obsessed with the S-rank Espers, throwing himself at them at the slightest hint of need, practically begging to Guide them. 

As Bomin walked, he could feel the weight of people’s gazes, following him like shadows. He couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped him every now and then, his body still throbbing, his movements unconsciously seductive.

“Lee Bomin, what’s wrong with you?”

He stopped abruptly as Kim Seohun stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Move.” 

His voice was rough, raspy. Kim Seohun flinched, his gaze flickering nervously. Bomin, seeing that he wasn’t going to budge, sidestepped him and continued on his way. 

A hand shot out, grabbing his arm, and he was forced to stop again. He glared at Kim Seohun, his eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushed with fever. 

“Are you sick? I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

From afar, he’d thought Bomin might be high on something. But up close, it was clear that he was ill. 

His lips, usually full and plump, were chapped and dry, his skin flushed.

“Haa… Seohun.”

“Y-Yes…?”

The unexpected use of his name, spoken in such a soft, almost intimate tone, sent a wave of heat through Kim Seohun. 

“I’m busy right now. I promise I’ll play with you later. Just let go of my arm.”

It was phrased as a request, but the way Bomin looked at him, his gaze intense and unwavering, made Kim Seohun feel like a worker bee obeying the queen’s command. 

Bomin’s hand reached up to caress his cheek, the touch light but lingering, and Kim Seohun felt his breath hitch in his throat. He was sure he was going to hiccup. 

His grip loosened, his fingers uncurling as if against his will. He watched, mesmerized, as Bomin walked away, his steps unsteady, his slender frame disappearing into the crowd. 

***