Chapter 29

“Fuck me…”

Gyuhan muttered as he took one agonizing step after another.

Like a newborn fawn, his steps were perilous in the extreme. His legs were splayed so wide he couldn’t even pull them together, and his lower back wouldn’t straighten, forcing him to support it with his hand. The insides of his thighs stung, his hole was burning and numb, and his ass felt completely detached from his body—truthfully, he wasn’t even sure if his hole was closed properly or not. In short, from the neck down, his body didn’t feel like his own.

The dragging sound of slippers was utterly pathetic. Where the lunatic had hidden his car keys was anyone’s guess. In fact, it wasn’t just the keys. His clothes, underwear, and wallet were nowhere to be found. Screw it, let’s at least go check if my car’s still there. With that thought, he had limped down to the underground parking lot, only to find the spot where he had parked completely empty. Am I dreaming? He pinched his cheek with a trembling hand, and it hurt like absolute hell.

His body had been stripped not only of stamina and semen, but also of water and nicotine.

Staring blankly at the empty parking spot, Gyuhan trudged back up to the first floor. Shuffling in Jio’s slippers, he made his way into the commercial building’s convenience store, grabbed two bottles of barley tea, and stated the brand of cigarettes he smoked. At that, the part-timer glanced at their phone and asked disinterestedly, “Do you have ID?”

Even without underwear and clad in Jio’s clothes thrown haphazardly over him like rags, Gyuhan beamed brightly, thoroughly delighted by those words.

“Oh, uh-huh. Hang on. Just a second.”

Yet patting his pockets wasn’t going to magically materialize a nonexistent wallet.

“Aigoo, I don’t have my wallet. What is it, can I use my mobile health insurance card?”

The part-timer, who had been slowly lifting their head ever since Gyuhan said “Just a second”, slowly shook their head.

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need to show it. My mistake.”

M-Mistake? Why are you apologizing…?

It felt stranger than if the clerk had severely overestimated his age. Smacking his lips as if his good mood had been nipped in the bud, Gyuhan took the cigarettes and barley tea, began walking out, then abruptly whipped back around. The part-timer, who was about to refocus on their mobile game, flinched violently. That was because the facial features they had momentarily misjudged due to the oversized clothes and casually parted bangs were, upon closer look, unmistakably handsome—yet terrifyingly fierce. Firmly set straight lips, upturned corners of sharp eyes, thick eyebrows, and a tense brow that looked as if it had never relaxed in its life. Even if frightening, he was undeniably handsome and commanding of attention, someone worth taking a longer look at, but realizing that their slip of the tongue a moment ago might have rubbed him the wrong way and provoked his fury, fear struck first.

The intensity is insane.

To the cowering part-timer, Gyuhan spoke in a gruff voice. “Kid. A lighter. Give me a lighter too.”

Unlike a moment ago, his tone had turned distinctly ajussi-like.

Stepping out of the convenience store, Gyuhan first chugged the entire 500-milliliter bottle of barley tea in one go, letting out a guttural “Khuuu”. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he placed a cigarette between his lips, only to see the hand holding the lighter trembling noticeably.

“Fucking insane…”

Only after muttering a curse and flicking his wrist in the air was Gyuhan finally able to light it.

After walking barely that short distance, he lacked even the strength to stay on his feet and collapsed heavily onto a bench beside a trash can. Even seated, his thighs twitched in erratic, involuntary tremors.

“Haah… Did an incubus possess him or something? Certified lunatic.”

His deep sigh was thick with utter, soul-deep exhaustion. Burying his face in his hands, Cha Gyuhan rubbed at his features repeatedly, gave a faint sniffle, and lifted his head. His dry eyes were clouded with fatigue. The skin beneath his eyes was rough and haggard, his lips no better—bruised and swollen, practically begging for someone to jump to all the wrong conclusions.

Sticking a second cigarette between his lips, Gyuhan suddenly felt a surge of nausea and clamped a hand over his mouth. He threw the unlit cigarette away. It seemed his empty stomach was to blame. Resting his bare elbows on his thighs, head hung low, he let out one heavy sigh after another. Even breathing required caution because of the dull, tender ache radiating through his flank. Why was his side sore in the first place? Gyuhan was the sort of man who could sprint right after eating a full meal without ever feeling a stitch in his side. There was only one explanation. He had been forced to pant so brutally that even his ironclad constitution couldn’t withstand the strain.

Letting out a noise that sounded less like fuck and more like a drawn-out sshiii-baa, Gyuhan messily clawed at his hair. Truthfully, he barely possessed the energy for even that much. The fingers buried in his hair trembled uncontrollably.

His memory drifted back to last night. No, was it morning? Just a few hours ago. Right. A few hours ago was more accurate.

To Cha Gyuhan, a dining table served a single purpose—eating food. On rare occasions, one might review documents there, but a dining table was fundamentally an extension of a desk—meaning he had never once conceived of performing any activity upon it outside of what one might do at a desk.

Apparently, Gong Jio did not share that view.

Was it because he was smarter? Jio had used it to fuck.

“You crazy bastard!”

By that point, Gyuhan’s voice was already raw and raspy.

“S-Stop.”

Gyuhan twisted his upper body around, waving a desperate hand. Seeing that, Jio’s eyes narrowed into slits. A completely unhinged gaze that made it impossible to tell where he was even looking—just how many hours had he been in that state? Jio let out a low whistle like some street delinquent.

“Nice. I can see your chest and your ass all at once.”

At Jio’s languid drawl, Gyuhan slapped the waving hand down over his own backside to shield it. The flesh beneath his palm was scalding hot, inflamed from the relentless slaps Jio had delivered to his buttocks every time his hips dipped during their earlier bout in the bedroom. Jio was truly merciless. Gyuhan had realized early on that this could not be treated as a routine athletic workout to blow off steam, nor could it be classified under the gentle umbrella of sweet, sweet, sweet lovemaking—it was far too violent for that. Jio hadn’t been lying when he said it was a relief Gyuhan was so healthy. If not for his sheer physical stamina, he would have passed out long ago.

“Why cover it? That only gets me harder.”

Gulping down the rest of the bottled water in his grip, Jio crumpled the plastic bottle and tossed it aside. As he strode forward, his cock was engorged and dark red.

“Doesn’t that even hurt?!”

When Gyuhan pointed at that monstrous, atrocious thing and shouted, Jio replied nonchalantly, “Chafing it raw on you has been my lifelong dream.”

“What kind of fucked-up dream is that?!”

“I know, right? Must be the insomnia.”

Every single word out of his mouth was completely unhinged.

Let me drink some water, let me rest a second, let me put some food in my stomach before you eat me alive. Gyuhan had practically begged on his knees to escape the bedroom, and things had seemed fine—until he realized Gong Jio was the kind of bastard who could pop an erection in the kitchen, too.

Gyuhan had crawled halfway onto the dining table. Hauling one leg up and pressing his torso flat against the surface, he had scrambled forward on trembling limbs. In his mind, he had fled to a place meant strictly for meals and nothing else, but to Jio’s eyes, what lay before him was a lavish, perfectly prepared feast.

Pouncing on Gyuhan’s rear—his raised leg offering an ideal angle to grip—Jio shoved his cock into Gyuhan’s entrance, which had been thoroughly loosened and heated to a fever pitch.

It would be nice to say it slid right in, but it didn’t.

“How many times do we have to do this… before you recognize me and clamp down?” Jio gritted his teeth and scowled as he demanded it, but Gyuhan was too busy gasping wide-mouthed from the shock to answer.

Jio thrust his hips forward. After forcing his way in three times, Gyuhan’s passage clamped tight around him, perhaps yielding to the momentum of everything they had done up to that point. It had admittedly been rather rough. The inner walls were swollen. Yet Jio was hardly the type to feel a sudden pang of remorse over that. Watching intently as Gyuhan trembled, unable to crawl further up in his shock, his weight collapsing as the knee supporting him gave way, Jio tracked his body with relentless focus. Giving Gyuhan false hope by pulling back slightly, Jio drove straight back in the moment Gyuhan’s hips slid down far enough that his own member slipped beneath the table edge.

“Hyaaangh! You—you son of a bitch!”

To let out an absurd, high-pitched whimper of shock only to immediately follow it with a stream of curses—it was so unlike Cha Gyuhan, yet simultaneously quintessential Cha Gyuhan.

“My head is pounding,” Jio muttered under his breath, driving his hips upward. Clatter, clatter. The dining table shook violently—a bespoke piece imported across the ocean that had taken over six months from order to delivery due to sourcing difficulties. Having crossed distant seas, it was now being subjected to such an obscene spectacle.

“And my dick’s throbbing just as hard as my head.”

Yet its owner merely murmured in a dazed, hollow tone, sounding as though he had purchased the table for this very purpose.

Gyuhan choked out small, breathless hiccups until he finally came in a wild spurt onto the floor. Watching him through narrowed eyes, Jio gripped Gyuhan’s buttock tightly.

“Ah, hurts!”

“Let’s go a little longer.”

Yanking the flesh of his rear up toward his waist, Jio kneaded it roughly and muttered, “Just a little more, and I think we can stamp bridal rouge back here…”

Bridal rouge or whatever the hell—Gyuhan was ready to die.

With the strength draining from his legs and threatening to make him collapse, Gyuhan gripped the edge of the dining table with all his might. Flattening his upper body and cheek against the wood to hold himself up, drool leaked from his lips, pooling beneath his cheek. He looked utterly pathetic. Spilling semen onto the floor while weeping and drooling on the dining table. His trembling legs finally gave out completely, but just as one leg buckled, Jio suddenly hoisted that leg up as well.

“Aaaargh! You crazy—you crazy psycho!”

Gyuhan had genuinely never experienced such a position in his entire life. Hooking both of Gyuhan’s legs around his waist, Jio dragged him flush against his hips. Gripping the shaking dining table, suspended in midair with nowhere to plant his feet, Gyuhan tossed like driftwood caught in a storm before spilling the remainder of his release right over the bridge of Jio’s foot.

“Gyuhan-ah. You’re boundless.”

Jio praised him as if rewarding a job well done. It was the sort of compliment that should have made any man puff his chest with pride, but there was no room for pride here.

“What a relief. For me, that is.”

Because the words that followed immediately after were pure madness!

“How is it, hm? Out of all the bastards you’ve fucked so far, am I the best? Haah… Or should I put in more effort? Hm?”

What bastards?! Gyuhan could barely even remember past experiences. What was certain was that none of them had been this obsessive, nor had they ever done it in every conceivable corner of the house in every ungodly position. Furthermore, his inside had never throbbed with independent spasms while simply lying still, nor had he ever come so hard that the slightest brush sent violent tremors racing through his body. Normally, once you came, it was over—no one had ever continued hammering away without pause, and above all, Gong Jio was the very first man to ever cum inside him. Gyuhan had never known a stomach could slosh from semen before. And now what? Put in more effort? The sheer thought was chilling enough to make Gyuhan scramble for an answer.

“N-No. Don’t put in—pant—don’t put in any more effort. Ah, ah, it’s j-just right. Ah!”

“You like it? Ah, you like it? Hearing that makes me want to piss myself from excitement…”

Terrified that Jio might actually do it, a cold chill shot up Gyuhan’s spine, freezing him down to his core.

“No! No! J-Jio-ya. Gasp, ah—put in m-more effort. Pant—I think you need to tr-try harder. You’re lacking. Too—hyangh—you’re too ah bad at this!”

“I knew it.”

As if waiting for that exact reply, Jio lowered one of Gyuhan’s legs. Thinking Jio would lower the other leg as well, Gyuhan barely had time to catch his breath before something else shifted—forcing his jaw wide open in a raw, broken groan. Still buried deep inside him, Jio had smoothly ground his hips in a slow, deliberate forty-five-degree twist.

Jio’s hot breath tickled the back of his head. “Haah…”

Gyuhan realized Jio had leaned down to press his entire upper body against his side. As a result, the penetration grew deeper, the angle of his thrusts subtly shifting. The remaining leg Jio had refused to release was hauled tight against the tabletop. For the very first time in his life, Gyuhan found himself cursing his own extraordinary flexibility.

Regardless, Jio withdrew smoothly before slamming back in with short, brutal thrusts. Thud. Thud. With each withdrawal, Gyuhan’s toes popped off the floor. The backs of his knees quivered violently. Amid the assault, Jio tilted his head down from behind, parting Gyuhan’s hair to whisper his name against his ear. Hearing his name uttered in that breathy, ragged voice made Gyuhan’s hair stand on end. On top of that, cool fingertips lightly traced across the back of the hand Gyuhan had clamped onto the dining table.

“Ugh, aaah… hah.”

If anyone was about to piss themselves, it was Gyuhan. At some point, he could feel his inner muscles squeezing tight around Jio with every smooth pullout, as though desperate to hold him inside. With how sore his buttocks were, the sensation was impossible to miss.

Tears welled in his eyes. Screwing his eyes shut and letting out breathy, hitching sobs, Gyuhan finally begged, “I don’t care if you cum inside, just—s-stop trying so hard… It feels so good I’m gonna fucking lose my balls…”

Had Jio laughed at that?

He couldn’t recall, but at the very least, one thing was crystal clear. Cha Gyuhan had discovered an entirely new purpose for a dining table.

The dining table wasn’t the only thing whose newfound purpose he had discovered.

After Jio dumped a deep load inside him, Gyuhan shoved him away with a sharp elbow to the chest. It was remarkable he had enough strength left to make Jio stumble back with an ugh. Whether the liquid trickling down his thighs was semen or something else, he couldn’t care less at that moment.

Gyuhan scrambled toward Jio’s dressing room. He needed to throw on whatever clothes he could find and run. Even if he made a break for it, walking out naked would get him hauled to a police station, where they’d tell him to call an attorney—and he’d inevitably end up calling Gong Jio. Just as Gyuhan grabbed whatever garments came to hand, Jio sauntered in, cracking his neck from side to side as though everything they had just done were merely light stretching rather than violent sex. Gyuhan let out a shriek and hurled the clothes in defense—only to end up getting pinned face-first among Jio’s hanging wardrobe while being thoroughly ploughed from behind.

“Sob, y-you fucker… you pervert… gasp… you sick fuck… ah…!”

“Guess so. Haah. Looks like I’ve turned into a massive fucking pervert. My life is ruined, so what am I supposed to do?”

Spouting whatever nonsense came to mind, Jio chewed down on Gyuhan’s nipple. Gyuhan gasped, shuddering and thrashing as he clawed through the hanging clothes. With every movement, the lingering scent of Jio’s fabric softener and perfume billowed around them, mingling with the raw, carnal musk generated by their feverish coupling.

Gyuhan felt a sharp, burning ache in the bridge of his nose at the realization that from now on, whenever he smelled this fabric softener, he would automatically picture Gong Jio’s dick and this exact moment of being drilled by it. After all, he had bought the exact same fabric softener to copy Jio…

“Gasp, ah, grunt, fuck, please. Jio-ya, my balls are gonna dry out… ah…!”

“Mm-hmm. Drain mine dry too, then.”

There was no communicating with him. Gyuhan simply didn’t know when to give up. But the same went for Jio—perhaps even more so than Gyuhan. If Jio knew how to give up, his unrequited love would have ended long ago, and this moment would never have come to pass.

Since that wasn’t the case, Jio merely squeezed and released Gyuhan’s testicles repeatedly, watching with dark, predatory eyes as his thighs and chest shuddered under the strain. With Gyuhan’s head buried among the clothes, only his flushed chest was visible, along with the occasional glimpse of his nape straining with bulging veins whenever he couldn’t endure the surges of pleasure, and his corded, vein-lined hands clutching desperately at Jio’s garments in torment.

Even without seeing his face, it’s unmistakably Cha Gyuhan. Substitutes really can’t compare. An ecstatic expression took over Jio’s face. Gyuhan, unable to see that look, soon found his lips captured as Jio leaned in to seek out his mouth.

Amid the rustling fabric and sweet fragrance, Jio—sounding nothing like the refined owner of that scent—called his name over and over between ragged breaths, kissing him with filthy, relentless tenacity while that tongue-like cock hammered inside him…

“Gasp, fuck.”

Gyuhan snapped his head up.

Why the hell did my train of thought lead there? It was a relief he had been drained completely dry; otherwise, this stroll down memory lane might have yielded an embarrassing physical reaction.

Gritting his teeth, Gyuhan shook his head.

“I need an exorcism. Or I must’ve eaten something rotten.”

Muttering under his breath, he pushed himself up very slowly. Ve-e-ery slowly… and took each step with equal caution.

“Geez. The whole world is spinning yellow…”

By the time he returned to Jio’s apartment looking even more pale and haggard than before, he had already finished a second bottle of barley tea. He crushed the plastic bottle in his fist. The apartment was dead silent, seeing as the owner himself wasn’t around.

In an empty house, Gyuhan brushed his teeth and wandered into the living room, groaning as he flopped onto the sofa. He propped one leg up over the backrest. His pelvis felt like it was splitting in two, but having his thighs touch was infinitely worse. How long had he been lying there in a half-asleep, half-awake state with one arm draped over his eyes? The beep of the keypad at the front door rang out. Perhaps because he was only half-conscious, or maybe it was just his imagination, the sound of the passcode being punched in felt hurried.

Slowly lowering his arm, Gyuhan caught a scent before he even registered the approaching footsteps.

“Is that seolleongtang?”

“…”

Jio’s chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath before deflating. Watching Jio look at him while nodding, Gyuhan pulled his hand out from beneath his T-shirt. Lowering his leg, he hauled himself up with a strained grunt.

“Perfect timing. My stomach was so empty I couldn’t even smoke.”

“You didn’t leave?”

Gyuhan snatched the plastic bag from Jio’s hand and plopped down onto the floor. He lacked the energy to make it to the dining table. Although Jio hated eating anywhere other than at a dining table, when Gyuhan shot him a glare that said And whose fault is it that I can’t even drag myself to the table?, Jio brought over a folding table. Naturally, Gyuhan was the one who had bought it, and it was always brought out for his sake.

“Holy shit. The radish kimchi smells insane. Ugh, my appetite is back instantly. I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down since my insides feel scrambled, but my mouth is watering like crazy. Feels like my guts were turned inside out. Did my stomach shrink or something from being poked so damn much?”

Jio stared intently at Gyuhan, who spoke with utter nonchalance. Catching his gaze, Gyuhan stared back and asked, “What are you doing? I can’t stand up. Feels like I’ve got two holes down there. Bring me a spoon.”

“Two holes…”

Murmuring in a hollow voice, Jio got to his feet. Gyuhan unwrapped the food containers while watching his friend’s obedient back. It seemed being tormented to the point of immobility wasn’t without its perks—he was getting waited on hand and foot by Gong Jio.

“I’m pouring in the radish kimchi juice!”

“If you’re looking to die, who am I to stop you.”

“Is there any way I could die worse than I already have? Whatever, fuck.”

Despite his grumbling, Gyuhan poured the kimchi juice only into his own bowl.

Jio sat beside Gyuhan and slowly mixed his rice into the broth. While Jio maintained a cycle of staring at Gyuhan for five seconds, holding a spoonful in his mouth to chew for one second, and staring at Gyuhan for another five seconds, Gyuhan emptied his bowl at rapid speed. With warm broth filling his belly, his churned-up insides—which had felt genuinely mangled, with only a slight touch of exaggeration—gradually settled back into place. Drowsiness set in almost instantly. Gyuhan downed a cup of water, leaned back against the sofa before his clean bowl, his eyes already half-closed.

Only then did Jio focus on his own meal—or at least appeared to.

A moment later, Jio casually probed Gyuhan, who had begun nodding off. ”So why didn’t you leave?”

“Hm? Mm… no underwear…”

“Since when did you ever care about that?”

“No car keys, no wallet… yawn. Didn’t see my car either.”

“I parked it at your place.”

“Figures.”

Gyuhan shifted his position, trying to find a comfortable posture before giving up. He realized that no matter how he sat, his lower body remained agonizingly sore. Tucking his legs sideways like a mermaid and resting his chin on his hand to settle in for a proper nap, Gyuhan heard Jio murmur in a tone that wavered between exasperation, relief, and hollow defeat.

“…You could’ve just hailed a taxi on an app, you dumbass.”

“Ah, right.” Scratching his head vigorously, Gyuhan let his chin slip from his hand and collapsed flat against his arms. “Besides, I knew you’d buy food. Even out of spite, I had to eat before leaving…” His voice trailed off into a mumble. Growing fainter and fainter, the phrase had to eat before leaving slurred into an unintelligible murmur, soon replaced by even, rhythmic breathing. He was clearly exhausted beyond measure, his breath thick with slumber.

A moment later, Jio shifted and sat facing Gyuhan.

After watching him for a long while in a posture that looked ready to spring up at any second, he finally leaned down on his arms against the sofa, mirroring Gyuhan. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the dry, flaky skin at the corner of Gyuhan’s eye.

“Is forgiveness that easy for you?”

A calm, flat voice echoed through the chilly living room. Originally, this place was never this cluttered. It was never meant to reek of food.

“What do I have to do to make you hate my guts?”

And Jio knew all too well that his strict rules and immaculate order held no benevolent meaning.

“Cut ties with me, Cha Gyuhan.”

So that even the slightest clutter, the faintest hint of chaos would feel unbearably immense—Jio was always spotless, empty, and cold.

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