PV Ch.6 Part 2

“Hng… ah…”

Tears streamed down Bomin’s face, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling as if caught in the grip of a nightmare. A large hand, holding a cool, damp cloth, gently wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead, the touch tender and full of concern. 

“…Why did you follow me in here?”

Sadness clouded the man’s eyes as he looked down at Bomin. He’d given him recovery potions, medication, anything to ease his distress, but Bomin remained trapped in his own personal hell, his body racked with sobs. 

His gaze shifted towards the closed door as he sensed someone approaching. The veins on the back of his hand, still clutching the damp cloth, bulged with suppressed anger. 

Just as the footsteps reached the door, the room was empty, Bomin’s form vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of fear and desperation.

* * *

The knock on the door was uncharacteristically hesitant. When there was no response, the man leaned closer, listening intently. 

There was only one presence inside. 

A soft groan reached his ears. Without hesitation, he froze the doorknob with a flick of his wrist, shattering it effortlessly. 

“You look like hell.”

Yoon Bisam sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing back the damp hair clinging to Bomin’s forehead. He wiped away the tears that had pooled in the corners of Bomin’s eyes, but Bomin remained unresponsive, his eyelids fluttering but refusing to open.

Yoom Bisam’s gaze swept over the room, taking in the messy sheets, the discarded clothes, the lingering scent of distress. Without a word, he scooped Bomin into his arms and carried him out of the room, his movements swift and decisive. 

They drew stares from the other Guides in the hallway. 

“What’s wrong with Lee Bomin this time?” someone whispered. 

Among the onlookers was Kim Seohun, his expression a mixture of worry and frustration. Bomin, who seemed allergic to the concept of vacation, had not only requested time off, but had also been completely MIA since his return to the Association. 

Kim Seohun had dreamt about him several times, waking up with his sheets tangled and his body aching with a need he couldn’t satisfy. 

“He’s got it made, doesn’t he? S-ranks practically begging to be Guided by him, who would have thought? Maybe he actually emits some kind of pheromone, you know? There’s no other explanation, not with his rank. He’s not even that strong.” 

Kim Seohun barely registered his colleague’s words, his gaze fixed on Bomin’s limp form, partially obscured by Yoon Bisam’s broad frame. 

“Or maybe the rumors are true, and he’s just that good in bed?” his colleague continued, his voice laced with envy. 

“It’s not a good look, gossiping about a fellow Guide behind his back,” Kim Seohun interjected, unable to listen to any more. 

“That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve been badmouthing Lee Bomin since day one. I learned everything I know from you, remember?” his colleague shot back. 

“…That was in the past,” Kim Seohun mumbled, his cheeks flushing.

“Sounds like a classic case of hypocrisy to me.” 

Kim Seohun sighed, watching Yoon Bisam disappear down the hallway with Bomin in his arms. He knew exactly where they were headed, what they were about to do. There was only one reason for an Esper and a Guide to seek out each other’s company, after all. 

And Bomin was known for his S*x Guiding. The image of them tangled together, Bomin’s body writhing beneath Yoon Bisam’s touch, flashed through Kim Seohun’s mind, a cruel echo of the dreams that had been plaguing him. That was probably the only promise Bomin would keep – the promise of giving Yoon Bisam exactly what he wanted. 

“Let’s go get some food,” he said, his voice flat. 

“There’s a new Indian place that just opened up. Wanna try it?” 

His food-obsessed colleague immediately perked up, Bomin’s predicament forgotten in the face of a potential culinary adventure. 

It was clear that Kim Seohun was the only one who remembered the promise Bomin had made – the promise to hang out, to be friends. It was a silly, childish promise, one that had been spoken in a moment of shared vulnerability. 

He berated himself for clinging to it, for letting it mean something, for believing, even for a second, that it had been anything more than a fleeting whim. He shook his head, a deep sadness settling over him like a late autumn chill.

* * * 

“Mmm…”

The sound of water lapping against porcelain was like a lullaby. Bomin felt it against his skin, the warmth enveloping him, and he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, his lashes heavy with moisture, as he took in his surroundings. The bathtub was enormous, easily big enough for three, maybe even four people. His own bathroom, back in his room, had only a shower stall. 

He sank deeper into the warm water, his muscles relaxing, his body finally letting go of the tension that had been gripping him for days. He felt something solid against his back, a warm weight pressing against him. He shifted slightly, and the realization hit him – a hard c*ck nestled against his ass, warm skin brushing against his back. 

“…Yoon Bisam?”

“You’re finally awake,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him. 

Bomin turned his head, and there he was – Yoon Bisam, his usually slicked-back hair falling loosely over his forehead, his dark blue eyes gazing at Bomin with an intensity that made his breath catch in his throat. 

“What am I doing here? I was… I was…” 

He’d been discharged, had even made it back to his own room. He’d wanted to be alone, to hide away in the one place in this strange world that felt even remotely safe. 

“I brought you here. This is my place,” Yoon Bisam stated simply. 

His place?

The bathroom alone looked more luxurious than a five-star hotel suite. He’d known, from the novel, that S-rank Espers enjoyed a certain level of privilege, their accommodations far surpassing those of the average Guide. But seeing it firsthand… it was a stark reminder of the vast gulf that separated them. 

“I… I can’t Guide right now,” Bomin said, his voice hesitant. 

He’d momentarily been distracted by the opulence of his surroundings, but the feel of Yoon Bisam’s c*ck pressed against him, hard and unyielding, brought his current predicament back into focus. The memory of the Magic Shock, the way it had ripped through him, made his heart clench with fear. 

He clutched his chest, his gaze searching Yoon Bisam’s face for any sign of annoyance or… disappointment.

“I know,” Yoon Bisam replied calmly, his expression unreadable. 

“Then… why am I here?” 

Why bring him to his private quarters if he didn’t need Guiding? Yoon Bisam wasn’t the type to seek out a Guide’s company unless it was for a S*x Guiding session.

“Because I want to have s*x with you. Do you have a problem with that?”

Yoon Bisam’s hand moved, his fingers tracing the outline of Bomin’s n*pple, the touch teasingly light. 

“Hng…”

Yoon Bisam’s lips closed over Bomin’s earlobe, s*cking gently. He traced the shell of Bomin’s ear with his tongue, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. The air in the bathroom was thick with unspoken desire, every tiny sound amplified, every touch electrifying. 

“Stop…” Bomin protested weakly, afraid that if he didn’t, he would be begging for it. 

He tried to pull away, to create some distance between them, but Yoon Bisam’s arm tightened around his waist, holding him captive. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, even when I was with other Guides,” Yoon Bisam murmured against his ear. 

His thumb and forefinger found Bomin’s other n*pple, rolling it between them, the pressure building. Bomin groaned, his body betraying him as he arched his back instinctively, pressing his head against Yoon Bisam’s broad shoulder. 

“Haa… ah… stop it…” he pleaded, his voice unsteady. 

“You’re more sensitive than before. Hard already, just from a little n*pple play,” Yoon Bisam observed, his tone laced with amusement. 

His hand moved lower, closing around Bomin’s half-hard c*ck, his grip firm. Bomin gasped, his free hand instinctively reaching out, his fingers scratching against the porcelain of the bathtub as he sought purchase. 

The tub was too wide, his grasp finding only empty air as he struggled against Yoon Bisam’s hold. Yoon Bisam’s hand moved rhythmically, his thumb pressing against Bomin’s sensitive slit. His legs trembled, his body responding with a ferocity that surprised him. 

He hadn’t eaten properly in days, his energy depleted, his body running on fumes. But even the smallest spark was enough to ignite a wildfire within him. 

“Haa… I’m gonna… I’m gonna c*m… please…” he begged, clinging to Yoon Bisam’s arm as the wave of pleasure crashed over him.

“Not yet. Wait,” Yoon Bisam commanded, his voice brooking no argument. 

Bomin glared at him, his eyes pleading, but Yoon Bisam’s gaze remained cool and detached, despite the flicker of arousal in his eyes. 

He trailed his tongue along the delicate skin of Bomin’s neck, his touch sending shivers down his spine. His c*ck, already hard and aching, pressed against Bomin’s entrance. The water provided enough lubrication, and Yoon Bisam slowly began to stretch him open, his movements relentless, his gaze never leaving Bomin’s face. 

“Ah… haa… nnngh…” Bomin squeezed his eyes shut, riding out the wave of pain. 

It never got easier, no matter how many times he experienced it. He wished he could come, to ease the discomfort, to find some relief. But Yoon Bisam’s grip on his c*ck remained firm, denying him that release. He scratched at Yoon Bisam’s hand, but the Esper seemed oblivious, his focus solely on claiming Bomin’s body.

Water sloshed over the edge of the tub as Bomin arched his back, his spine pressed against the cool porcelain. Yoon Bisam’s lips trailed down his back, his breath hot against his skin. 

“Haa… so… big…” Bomin gasped, his voice strained. 

Whatever injuries Song Jaeho had inflicted, Yoon Bisam had healed. There was no residual pain, but the feeling of fullness, of being stretched to his limit, was almost suffocating. The air in the bathroom, thick with steam, felt heavy, and oppressive. 

“Please… let go… let me c*m…” he pleaded, his body trembling. 

His c*ck, slick with arousal, twitched against Yoon Bisam’s hand, the pleasure fading, replaced by a dull ache. He needed another release, something to distract him from the discomfort. 

“Not yet,” Yoon Bisam said, his voice firm. 

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, his c*ck sliding in and out of Bomin’s body. Bomin shifted his hips, trying to find the sweet spot, trying to ease the ache building inside him.