By Zephyria 
“I thought you’d at least be painting.”
Han Seung-jae had expected that since Seo Yi-kyung had spent some time in the hospital room, he would undoubtedly head straight for the painting studio to paint once he returned home. However, it seemed Seo Yi-kyung had simply been standing before the canvas, staring at the painting. The clothes he was wearing were no different from what he had been wearing this morning. There wasn’t a single speck of oil paint on them.
And as Seo Yi-kyung turned slightly, the landscape painting revealed was one that Han Seung-jae recognized. The panoramic view of a winter mountain covered in white snow was noble and exquisite, truly a masterpiece.
“You came early.”
Seo Yi-kyung’s lips parted slightly. As Han Seung-jae walked forward, he shifted his gaze from the painting that Yi-kyung had been staring at.
It felt as if he had returned to the time when Seo Yi-kyung had visited the study carrying this canvas. If there was any difference, it was that this place was the painting studio, and the person visiting was Han Seung-jae.
Following Han Seung-jae as he approached, Seo Yi-kyung pulled his left arm, wrapped in a cast, toward himself. After all, hadn’t he cracked his arm while trying to give this painting to him in exchange for money?
Even though Seo Yi-kyung had merely moved his arm to avoid touching Han Seung-jae’s body, Han Seung-jae spoke indifferently, as if he knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Are you afraid I might make it so you can’t paint at all?”
Seo Yi-kyung’s shoulders flinched as he curled his arm toward his stomach. It wasn’t just that Han Seung-jae was closing the distance; he was leaning his upper body forward, looming over Seo Yi-kyung.
Step. When Seo Yi-kyung took a step back to create space, Han Seung-jae stepped even closer, obliterating the gap. Eventually, Seo Yi-kyung’s hips hit the work table.
“…!”
Seo Yi-kyung reflexively looked back to check. Seeing that there was nowhere left to retreat, a cool hand touched the nape of his neck. Seo Yi-kyung’s neck stiffened instantly. Han Seung-jae’s low, resonant voice sounded right in his ear.
“Are you done checking?”
A large hand loosely gripped Seo Yi-kyung’s neck.
“There’s nowhere left to run. Now, give me an answer.”
There was no overt force in Han Seung-jae’s hand, but that didn’t mean there was no sense of pressure. Seo Yi-kyung’s neck was so slender it felt as though it would snap if Han Seung-jae applied any strength.
Han Seung-jae’s hand, softly caressing his neck, brushed past Seo Yi-kyung’s shoulder and slid down his spine. Keeping his gaze fixed on Seo Yi-kyung’s reddened lips, he pressed for an answer.
Seo Yi-kyung’s body moved as if being pushed. Before he knew it, he was perched on the edge of the work table. It wasn’t by his own will. Han Seung-jae’s large hand, which had slid down his spine, supported Seo Yi-kyung’s hips and hoisted him up there.
Seo Yi-kyung sat on the table, practically trapped in Han Seung-jae’s embrace. Then, Han Seung-jae deliberately lowered his upper body to meet Seo Yi-kyung’s eyes. He seemed determined to get an answer from him. Those cold eyes drew closer.
Staring into Han Seung-jae’s temperatureless, cold pupils, Seo Yi-kyung’s lips trembled.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
Seo Yi-kyung reached out with his casted hand. It was to show Han Seung-jae, but the man was looking elsewhere with obsessive focus. Seo Yi-kyung’s face was pale and white. Because of that, his red lips looked even more like a ripe fruit.
“Hmm.”
Han Seung-jae let out a languid hum. It was unclear if that was an answer to Seo Yi-kyung’s words. This was because Han Seung-jae tilted his head and licked Seo Yi-kyung’s fidgeting lips with his tongue.
As Seo Yi-kyung startled and jerked his head back, Han Seung-jae straightened his head. Your lips are still sweet. He seemed to savor the taste before kissing Seo Yi-kyung’s chin.
“I can’t guarantee that.”
Seo Yi-kyung’s Adam’s apple bobbed. When cool lips touched that spot as well, Seo Yi-kyung hurriedly lowered his head. Han Seung-jae watched every shifting expression on Seo Yi-kyung’s face—who was practically blocked by his two arms—and added.
“I didn’t know I lacked patience to this extent.”
Whenever he tried to touch him, he would recoil in surprise, and whenever he tried to taste his lips, he would tremble as if his neck were being bitten. Yet, the scent he gave off was erotic, and the feel of the waist fitting in his two hands was maddeningly good, leaving Han Seung-jae swept up in a complex and subtle emotion unlike anything he had felt before.
Han Seung-jae lifted one hand that had been resting on the work table. He caressed Seo Yi-kyung’s waist, brushed past his flat chest, and placed his hand around his neck. Under his strength, Seo Yi-kyung’s small head was gradually pushed forward.
“Seung-jae…”
Seo Yi-kyung opened his reddened lips to speak. To Han Seung-jae, that sight looked voluptuously open and easy to devour. Just before swallowing him whole, Han Seung-jae spoke in a low voice.
“If you run away one more time, I won’t break your hand—I’ll break your legs. So stay quietly in my arms.”
The voice was so tender that Seo Yi-kyung felt as if he were being whispered sweet words. However, the actual words were far from it.
Seo Yi-kyung’s bright red tongue flickered provocatively. Han Seung-jae entwined himself strongly with the tip of that tongue and kissed him. The thin neck gripped in his hand surged violently, but it was not enough to escape Han Seung-jae’s grasp.
Heat rushed to the corners of Seo Yi-kyung’s eyes. The piece of flesh entwining and rubbing against his tongue was so hot it felt as if the inside of his mouth were melting. Because of the tongue digging deep into his throat, Seo Yi-kyung ran out of breath. Meanwhile, his body gradually leaned backward.
Knock, knock.
Just then, the sound of someone knocking on the studio door echoed. Han Seung-jae pulled his lips away, leaving a long string of saliva stretching between them. Seo Yi-kyung stared at the firmly closed door with a bewildered face. The studio door was not locked. And since Han Seung-jae had entered, he wouldn’t have locked it either.
Regardless of who was knocking, he pushed up the shirt Seo Yi-kyung was wearing. The bandages that had been wrapped from his shoulder to his chest were gone.
Han Seung-jae’s fingertips touched the long wound running below Seo Yi-kyung’s collarbone. Han Seung-jae’s gaze was quite sharp as he stroked the scar, which was about the length of a finger.
Knock, knock.
Seo Yi-kyung’s gaze remained on the door. However, as a hot, soft sensation touched the wound, Seo Yi-kyung’s shoulders hunched. He turned his head away from the door.
Han Seung-jae pressed his lips to the area of Seo Yi-kyung’s chest and extended his tongue to lick down the wound. Startled by this, Seo Yi-kyung moved his arm, knocking over a container of brushes on the work table, which made a thud as it hit the floor.
Seo Yi-kyung held his breath, but Han Seung-jae did not. He continued to lick the wound with his tongue before pressing his lips against it and sucking strongly.
“Ugh.”
Eventually, a moan escaped from between Seo Yi-kyung’s suppressed lips. Seo Yi-kyung’s pupils shook anxiously. However, the sound of knocking no longer followed.
“Does it hurt?”
Han Seung-jae’s breath spread across his chest. The stitched wound, accompanied by faint tooth marks, glistened with saliva. Only then did Seo Yi-kyung fully take in Han Seung-jae. It seemed he was the only one who had been worried about the door opening, holding his breath and shrinking his body.
Whether the door opened or not, Han Seung-jae had already wedged himself between Seo Yi-kyung’s thighs. He was in a position where it wouldn’t be strange if he forced open the narrow hole and drove his cock in at any moment.
“It was fine until a moment ago,” Seo Yi-kyung murmured.
As if half-resigned, he was leaning his body back, almost lying on the work table. The only reason he didn’t fall backward was that Han Seung-jae was cradling his waist. Both front and back were equally within Han Seung-jae’s hands.
“It hurts because you’re doing things like that, Seung-jae.”
“Things like that?”
Han Seung-jae repeated a phrase from Seo Yi-kyung’s words. Then, asking, “Is this what you mean by ‘things like that’?” he pressed his lips to the wound and scraped it with his tongue. The pointed tip of his tongue slid long along the scar.
“Or does it hurt because I’m sucking it?”
He then pressed his lips to the wound and sucked hard. As the hand that had been supporting Seo Yi-kyung’s back slowly slid away, Seo Yi-kyung was practically laid flat, knocking other items on the work table to the floor.
“Ah, ugh!”
Seo Yi-kyung’s eyes contorted. This time, the pain was truly significant. Feeling as though a cry of pain would naturally escape, Seo Yi-kyung pressed the back of his hand against his lips.
It had been a snow-white body. Until now, there had been no marks. Because Han Seung-jae was the only person who left marks here.
Han Seung-jae obsessively pressed his lips to the wound, sucking the skin, licking it, or grazing it with his teeth. It was as if he were trying to carve out the wound, erasing the traces left by someone else.