By Zephyria 
Han Seung-jae sank his teeth into Seo Yi-kyung’s lower lip as if punishing him. Yi-kyung’s lips, which trembled against his, were small and soft. The slender jaw gripped in his palm and the neck twisted back to its limit looked so fragile they seemed as if they might break at any moment.
“And here you were, begging me to take it.”
Han Seung-jae slowly sucked on Seo Yi-kyung’s lower lip.
“Are you acting like someone who wants to run away now?”
“I—I never did that.”
Yi-kyung’s breathing came out ragged due to the foreign object filling him deep inside.
“We’re… in the elevator.”
Furthermore, just a moment ago, as Yi-kyung had bumped his body, Butler Do’s voice had been heard from outside the door. And since the elevator had descended to the basement, it was plain as day who might be inside.
“I see you still have enough strength to worry about things like that.”
Han Seung-jae’s words were quite meaningful. He was being pierced from behind, and his neck was turned as if it were about to break. Seo Yi-kyung could no longer endure it.
Yi-kyung raised his hand, grabbed Han Seung-jae’s fingers, and pried them away.
“My neck… hurts.”
The corners of Yi-kyung’s eyes were red, and a scratch sat upon his cheek. His sorrowful face fueled a carnal desire to make him cry. He wanted to grab and spread those buttocks and ruthlessly rummage through the hole. Would he shed tears then? Would he cling to him even more then?
Han Seung-jae, who had been quietly watching Yi-kyung struggle to catch his breath while speaking, pulled his waist back.
“Then, let’s go to the room.”
Just as Yi-kyung’s body seemed to turn, his back hit the wall. As Yi-kyung’s lips parted in surprise, Han Seung-jae’s head tilted downward. He took the lower lip, which had swollen red from being sucked until a moment ago, into his mouth and slid his tongue inside. While doing so, Han Seung-jae reached out his long arm and pressed the button for the second floor.
“Nngh…”
The elevator passed the basement and the first floor, quickly arriving at the second. A clear chime rang in Yi-kyung’s ears.
Even at the mechanical voice saying, ‘The doors are opening,’ Han Seung-jae only continued to indulge in Yi-kyung’s lips. The member revealed between his trousers brushed against Yi-kyung’s white stomach, lingering suggestively.
Yi-kyung’s thighs trembled slightly. The hole where the large member had been sliding in and out until just now was drenched in love fluid. As the hot member withdrew and a cold breeze brushed past, his body recoiled.
Only when Yi-kyung grabbed Han Seung-jae’s waist did Han Seung-jae finally release his lips. A long string of saliva stretched like a thread before snapping.
Click. With a press of the button by Han Seung-jae’s hand, the doors opened. Yi-kyung stepped out of the elevator as if being dragged by his arm. Around evening, there was no one coming or going on the second floor. This was especially true for the bedroom located furthest inside.
At the mechanical voice saying, ‘The doors are closing,’ Yi-kyung’s gaze shifted backward. His pupils shook violently. The canvas he had leaned against the elevator wall, along with the suit trousers and drawers he had been wearing, were left sitting there alone.
“Wa—wait a moment!”
Yi-kyung grabbed the arm of Han Seung-jae, who was walking ahead, and pulled, but since he didn’t stop, his white legs were dragged forward.
Han Seung-jae opened the bedroom door wide and looked down at Seo Yi-kyung. With a distraught face, Yi-kyung pointed behind him with his hand.
“My, my clothes are in the elevator…”
And the painting was there too.
Of course, it went without saying that the canvas was important. But what would happen if someone saw the discarded suit trousers and underwear? Seo Yi-kyung might truly never be able to go down to the first floor again. Out of sheer embarrassment. At this rate, he might end up living confined to the second floor by his own choice.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to take them off anyway.”
“It might not matter to Seung-jae, but… I, I do.”
Han Seung-jae had always been a person indifferent to the gaze of others. He never walked on eggshells around anyone. Nor did he consider anyone’s feelings. His surroundings were overflowing with people who tried everything to cater to his whims.
Han Seung-jae’s gaze lingered on Yi-kyung’s exposed legs. His half-erect member was twitching. Compared to the white thighs, the color stood out. There was even love fluid at the tip of the urethra, making it look like it was ripened and ready to be eaten.
“…”
Following Han Seung-jae’s gaze, Yi-kyung looked down, then bolted onto the bed and pulled the duvet to cover his waist. His body had acted before his mind could think. However, he immediately regretted it. Han Seung-jae closed the bedroom door and walked toward the bed. He unfastened the cufflinks at his wrists and placed them on the table.
‘I should have run to the bathroom and locked the door.’
He had made the wrong choice. Why on earth did he jump onto the bed?
Reaching the bed, Han Seung-jae unbuttoned his dark-colored shirt. His refined movements flowed like water. His revealed broad shoulders were incomparable to Yi-kyung’s frail body. The waistline that narrowed downward, close to an inverted triangle, was something Yi-kyung could never achieve no matter how much he exercised.
“Since I’ve accepted the painting, what would be a good reward?”
Yi-kyung’s eyes widened. Was he going to accept the painting? Suddenly, Yi-kyung vaguely realized why he had been pushed to this extent.
Yi-kyung’s complexion turned pale. Han Seung-jae clearly thought he had confessed. Then again, wouldn’t anyone think so if someone brought a painting they had poured their heart and soul into before marriage and begged them to accept it?
Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even the one who painted it. Still, Yi-kyung wanted to deliver that painting to Han Seung-jae. That was all…
Whether it should be called a misunderstanding or a delusion, Yi-kyung only now noticed that Han Seung-jae was sitting on the edge of the bed due to the thoughts crashing over him.
It was certainly him who had said he didn’t like Han Seung-jae, and it was also him who had begged him to accept the painting.
“Seung-jae.”
“What do you want to receive?”
The two spoke simultaneously. However, Han Seung-jae’s following words were faster.
“I don’t care what it is, so tell me what you want.”
As he spoke, Han Seung-jae pulled away the duvet that Yi-kyung had been using to cover his waist. Yi-kyung resisted by gripping the fabric, but he couldn’t stop his thighs from being exposed. Han Seung-jae caressed a thigh that fit perfectly in one hand.
Han Seung-jae’s touch moved to the inner thigh, and eventually, he rubbed the half-erect member before his hand slid toward the hole.
The fingers of Yi-kyung, clutching the duvet, trembled. He had told him to say what he wanted to receive, but it seemed he was preparing to thrust.
It was a hole that had already taken a member once inside the elevator. Han Seung-jae stroked the hole dotted with love fluid. Tracing the folds, he spoke in a low voice.
“It seems this place is already finished preparing to receive.”
As if to confirm, Han Seung-jae pressed firmly into the wet hole with his finger. The flesh parted, and two fingers entered.
Yi-kyung tried to close his thighs and block the fingers digging into the hole, but it was a futile effort. If anything, it only served to stimulate Han Seung-jae.
With his free hand, Han Seung-jae pulled away the duvet Yi-kyung was holding. He gripped a slender knee and lifted it. It was as if he wanted to show the hole clearly. Meanwhile, the fingers moving inside increased to three.
“Don’t turn your head. Look.”
Han Seung-jae’s voice was low, making it sound even colder. Yi-kyung couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open and watch the fingers sliding in and out of him. Just as Han Seung-jae said, the hole leaking love fluid was making wet sounds, as if greedily sucking the fingers.
In the silent room, the wet sounds of Han Seung-jae’s fingers moving in and out sounded even louder. As much as he was being poked below, the heat seemed to surge upward. His cheeks burned, and eventually, his eyes grew hot.
Yi-kyung tried to lift his body. As if he had expected it, Han Seung-jae grabbed his arm and pushed him back down onto the bed.
Thump. Han Seung-jae spread Yi-kyung’s legs wide. His head tilted downward. Yi-kyung’s member, which had been half-erect, was now stiff and clinging to his lower abdomen. Han Seung-jae gripped the pale member and rubbed it as if soothing it.
“Everyone only asks me to do things for them.”
Even when I said I’d give, there was no one who didn’t try to run away first. Han Seung-jae’s trailing words scattered as he opened his mouth and swallowed Yi-kyung’s member.
“Hng, ah.”
Yi-kyung lifted his head, looked down at himself, and let out a sound close to a sob. Han Seung-jae had his head buried in his thighs, sucking his member. Meanwhile, the fingers entering the hole pushed deeper inside.
Han Seung-jae extended his tongue to lick beneath the glans, then sucked the inner thigh, leaving marks. He spoke to Yi-kyung, whose eyes suddenly met his.
“Is there really nothing you want from me?”
His voice was deceptively tender. If he weren’t seeing with his own eyes that the man was licking his member and sucking it without waiting for an answer, he might have thought the tone was plain.
“What would be good. I already made you the painting studio you love so much, and you have the tools.”
He couldn’t think of anything else. Yi-kyung’s range of interests was that simple. At most, he was interested in exhibitions or artworks.
“Shall I build you a museum?”
He thought it would be nice to exhibit paintings there according to Yi-kyung’s taste.
Han Seung-jae looked down at Yi-kyung’s stomach, which was heaving with ragged breaths. Body fluids were smeared there. The glossy, shimmering stomach smelled of a sexy yet sweet rose scent. Han Seung-jae extended his tongue and licked the white stomach. His fingers elegantly parted the hole and swept inside. When the fingertip touched somewhere deep within the inner wall, Yi-kyung’s waist jolted.
“S-stop it.”
Yi-kyung’s face was beyond flushed; it was red as if it were about to burst. Han Seung-jae moved his fingers densely, asking as if he knew—or didn’t know—what Yi-kyung was thinking.
“Stop what?”
Yi-kyung had been glancing at the bathroom for a while. Every time Han Seung-jae rummaged behind with his fingers and sucked and tightened around his member with his lips and tongue, he felt the blood rushing to his lower abdomen.
“I… I want to go wash up.”
Han Seung-jae swirled his finger. As a squelching sound, like the hole sucking the finger, leaked from between his legs, Yi-kyung’s toes trembled. The member touching Han Seung-jae’s lips was pleading to ejaculate at any moment.
“You should be honest. You don’t want to wash; you want to come.”