#42

“Haah, hng.”

“Haa.”

Shin Ho-jae gripped both genitals in his hand and raced toward the climax. Jung-hyun wrapped his arms around Ho-jae’s shoulders, pulling him close. The thick upper body followed without resistance.

Shin Ho-jae’s forehead touched the pillow, and his sweat-soaked shoulder brushed against Jung-hyun’s lips. Jung-hyun overlapped the back of his hand over that shoulder, doing his best to stifle his moans.

With his face buried in the pillow, the panting moans escaping Shin Ho-jae’s lips grew more intense.

Ah, I want to see his aroused face. But he felt that if he moved his mouth away from the back of the hand it was currently biting, an unsightly moan would leak out.

Shin Ho-jae began to thrust his hips with such force that it made a thumping sound. The place he was driving into was not Jung-hyun’s inner wall, but his own hand, yet from the side, the movement was no different from sex.

“Ah, wait, too much, ah, ah…!”

The stimulation was too intense. Jung-hyun’s penis, swollen to its limit, was held firmly by Shin Ho-jae’s hand, unable to budge.

As he rubbed the shaft, slick with sweat and pre-cum, with power and speed, the moment of climax soon arrived like a wave.

“Hng, ugh. Nng…”

“Kgh…”

Along with the sensation of ejaculation, his thighs trembled uncontrollably. Soon after, Shin Ho-jae seemed to have ejaculated as well, as Jung-hyun’s lower abdomen became wet. Jung-hyun gasped for air, his breath hot.

Shin Ho-jae still had his face buried in the pillow. When Jung-hyun shifted his gaze to the side, he saw a glistening back that repeatedly swelled and subsided.

As Jung-hyun removed the hand he had placed on the other’s shoulder, Shin Ho-jae lifted his head. With the weight of his shoulder no longer pressing down on his chest, Jung-hyun naturally let out a deep breath.

Shin Ho-jae slowly pulled away from Jung-hyun’s chest and scanned Jung-hyun’s body, where blotches of heat were blooming.

His gaze soon fixed on his own hand and Jung-hyun’s lower abdomen, both a mess with the semen of two men. Shin Ho-jae narrowed his eyes and breathed quietly.

Jung-hyun also exhaled slowly. Now that the ejaculation was over, an indescribable sense of lethargy washed over him.

Shin Ho-jae remained frozen in that position, like a broken robot. He seemed shocked by what he had just done.

It was enough to make Jung-hyun wonder if this was the same person who had been rubbing their lower bodies and kissing so relentlessly just moments ago. They say people change once they get what they want, but seeing Shin Ho-jae like this felt like a letdown.

Jung-hyun forced his heavy body up and supported himself on his elbows. He pulled some tissues from the nightstand next to the bed and handed them to Shin Ho-jae first.

“Wipe your hands.”

Shin Ho-jae took the tissues and wiped the semen from his hands with very slow movements. After hesitating for a long time, as if he had something he wanted to say, the words he finally spat out were these:

“…You have to keep your promise.”

His tone suggested that the only reason he had agreed to this act was because of his precious friend, and there was absolutely no other possibility. Jung-hyun already knew this well, even without the confirmation.

“Were you worried I’d wash my hands of the deal after just one handjob?”

Jung-hyun chuckled.

“Rest easy. I have no intention of letting you go until I have proper sex with you, Player Shin.”

Jung-hyun pulled out more tissues and indifferently wiped his own lower abdomen. As if he were wiping away something more than just semen—something that had existed between them until a moment ago—his chest felt strangely cold.

Even though it was pseudo-sex, it should have been normal to feel better after touching the man he wanted so badly. Instead, his mood sank further than it had been before they started.

Had he miscalculated? Or was something wrong?

No, it was probably just because he had held useless expectations.

Without thinking further, Jung-hyun crumpled the dirty tissues and flicked them into the trash can. The ball of tissue traced a parabola and landed right in the cylinder. Jung-hyun spoke without looking at Ho-jae.

“As usual, come immediately when I call you.”

“…Yes.”

“I don’t intend to show any leniency whether it’s before or during the season, so manage your condition yourself.”

“…I understand.”

He craved a cigarette. Jung-hyun leaned back against the headboard and locked eyes with Shin Ho-jae, who was looking at him. His eyes weren’t smiling at all, but the corners of his mouth curled up reflexively.

“Want to wash up before you go?”

“…No. I’m fine.”

“Alright then.”

He had asked knowing he would say that. As expected, Shin Ho-jae stood up and began picking up his clothes scattered on the floor.

Jung-hyun watched Shin Ho-jae’s back in silence. Once fully dressed, Shin Ho-jae glanced back once and left the room.

Click. The metallic sound of the handle turning was sharp. Then, with a thud, Jung-hyun was left completely alone in the room.

Jung-hyun sat up and picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the TV stand. He slowly put a cigarette in his mouth and suddenly looked out the window.

The raindrops that had been falling lightly had grown thick. Watching the rain pour down refreshingly, Jung-hyun drifted into a blank reverie.

* * *

Four years ago, Binghamton, New York.

Sleet was falling outside the window. Because the fan connected to the outside was running for ventilation, the chill in the smoking room was not much different from the outdoors.

Unable to endure it any longer, Jung-hyun slid his arms into the lambskin shearling jacket draped over his shoulders. The scent of well-worn, soft leather wafted into his nostrils.

With a thick lining of wool—whether real or faux—and a generous fit, it was a piece he reached for often on days when the temperature plummeted.

Buzz. A short vibration sounded from the phone in his hand. Jung-hyun reflexively checked the screen. Instead of the blue bird icon, a green speech bubble icon appeared.

Peter Choi:

How much longer are you going to smoke?

No exaggeration, it’s been 20 minutes.

Jung-hyun took one last drag and stubbed out the short butt on the windowsill.

As soon as he pushed open the door of the smoking room and took a single step, a pop song that sounded half a century old greeted him first. Jung-hyun hid his gaze beneath his long, shaggy hair that reached his eyebrows and secretly scanned the tables.

Passing by men chewing nachos and groups of men and women holding darts, he shifted his gaze to a group of exceptionally sturdy men gathered near the pool table, drinking.

Among them, Jung-hyun’s gaze lingered for a long time on the profile of an Asian man who had a cola in front of him instead of beer, before finally pulling away.

『Phew, if you’d made me wait five more seconds, I might have walked out with that cute Omega over there.』

『Boasting again.』

Jung-hyun sat on a bar stool and ordered a fresh glass from the waitress instead of his flat beer. She gave him a friendly smile.

『Boastiiiing~? You think just because you dumped me, I’m unwanted by everyone else? You have no idea how popular I am with Omegas, do you?』

Hearing the word ‘dumped’ made it sound like there was some history, but knowing it was a joke, Jung-hyun just chuckled. These kinds of conversations were just like a roleplay between him and Peter.

Anyway, now that he was inside, the air was warm, making the furry shearling jacket feel cumbersome. As he took off the outer layer, the green knit sweater hidden beneath was revealed.

The green knit had yellow glittery threads mixed in, like lights hanging on a fir tree; combined with the brown corduroy pants he was wearing, he was practically a human Christmas tree.

『…What on earth is that hideous sweater?』

Peter asked with a face that looked like he had witnessed something horrific. Jung-hyun, who was popping a small pretzel into his mouth, looked down at his clothes.

『Isn’t it cool? I bought it at a vintage shop I recently discovered.』

『Dammit, why is your taste in clothes so extreme? When we first met, you walked around draped in luxury brands, so why are you suddenly wearing something that even a country grandfather wouldn’t wear!』

『Really? I like it.』

『It was a mistake to tell you about that vintage shop.』

Shopping was one of the few things Jung-hyun could call a hobby, given that he had plenty of money and nothing to do.

Beautiful, well-made, expensive items were pleasing to the eye and perfect for filling his depleted need for recognition.

It was because of this shearling jacket that Jung-hyun had awakened to vintage shopping.

It was a jacket he had bought impulsively at a vintage shop he visited with Peter a year ago. Perhaps because there were no customers that day and he was bored, the hippie-looking shopkeeper had sat Jung-hyun down and told him the anecdote behind this jacket.

He said it was a jacket someone’s father had bought with great determination after receiving his first paycheck. He had met his wife while wearing this coat, and it was a garment filled with precious memories, worn on every date thereafter.

There was no way to know if it was true or made up, but Jung-hyun liked the story. And every time he wore this coat, he would imagine it: a father gathering his family and telling them the love story associated with this shearling jacket.

Not the cold-hearted biological father who had kicked him out to America and never contacted him since, but a warm father from his imagination.

『So. I think it’s about time I hear the reason why you brought me all the way to this rural corner.』

『Pete, how many times do I have to tell you? I just said I wanted to go on a road trip for the weekend, and you’re the one who insisted on coming along.』

『I had no idea it would be such a boring town!』

『I told you it would be boring.』

『Your beer is here.』

Clink. A beer glass with just the right amount of foam was placed in front of Jung-hyun. Jung-hyun said thank you and handed the waitress whatever bills he could grab from his pocket.

At a glance, it looked to be two or three times the price of the beer. The waitress responded with a wonderful smile.

『…Just how much did you give her as a tip? That waitress practically threw a glass at me earlier. Look. The wet spot is still there.』

『Really? I guess your popularity with Omegas was just a boast after all.』

『You’re going to be like this? Fine. Listen carefully. First of all, that person isn’t an Omega.』

『You can tell just by looking?』

『Of course. It’s just a hunch, but I’ve never been wrong.』

『But Pete. Don’t you think it’s only true popularity if you’re popular even with Betas who don’t know you’re an Alpha?』

At those words, a small vein popped on Peter’s forehead. Jung-hyun laughed lightly.

『Look over there, right there! The Omega who talked to me earlier. Look at that hot ass and those dimples when he smiles! A man like that talked to me, and I turned him down for your sake!』

『How vulgar…』

Jung-hyun turned his head, pretending to give in to Peter’s protest. Where Peter’s finger pointed, there was a handsome man with light brown hair and an Asian man.

“……”

Jung-hyun’s gaze stopped, as if captivated.

The Asian man listening intently to the other’s words was Shin Ho-jae. The reason Jung-hyun had come to this town where he had no connections today.

It was because he had found out that Shin Ho-jae’s team, the Montreal Heights, had come to play an away game against a team in Binghamton. And this bar was the after-party location Shin Ho-jae had posted on social media.

43 – Puck Drop