Chapter Text
Arriving at class today and gazing at the empty seat beside him, Matthew felt a stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes.
Taerae was dead. He was dead because of a stupid mistake Matthew had made. There would be no one left to greet him in the morning and ask if he had studied. No one to rest his head on his shoulder and complain about his part-time job. No one to mischievously ask if he had successfully confessed his feelings yet. Taerae was gone, so there would be no more sitting here, chattering away about the trivialities of life.
There would be no one left to look at him with eyes full of hope, no matter how harsh life became, and tell him that every new day was a fresh start.
Matthew had learned just how fragile human life truly is. One moment, people might be laughing or arguing; the next, they might vanish from the world, leaving not even a word of farewell behind. Without waiting for Matthew to apologize, or for Taerae to forgive him, the story between them had come to such a cruel end.
Matthew sat down and looked at the empty seat beside him once more. Instinctively, he reached out, almost imagining that Taerae was still right there. If only he had been patient enough, surely Taerae would have turned to look at him, asked "What's wrong?", and smiled. If only he had been sincere enough, surely Taerae would have patted his shoulder, said he didn't hold a grudge over what had been said, and told him all he needed to do was treat him to a cup of iced milk coffee from the shop across the school gate. And if Matthew had wept and begged him not to go, surely Taerae would have promised never to leave him all behind.
But those were all just "ifs."
Matthew slumped his head onto the desk, fighting back tears, yet they continued to spill onto the cold surface. Spring had arrived, bringing the hope of a fresh start, but Taerae would never again see the blossoms in full bloom along the path by the school's back gate. Last spring, he and Taerae had caught the falling petals together, and Taerae had even made a jar of cherry blossom jam for him. Now that Taerae was gone, taking all that familiarity with him, everything around Matthew felt distant.
Did he truly belong here anymore?
Gunwook entered the classroom shortly after Matthew; no one knew where he had been. Yet, when Matthew looked up, he found Gunwook standing a few rows back, watching him. Matthew wanted to ask what he wanted, but he lacked the energy to listen to whatever schemes the other was plotting. Noticing that Matthew had spotted him, Gunwook smiled and walked over to sit beside him. He arranged his books and notebooks, then gazed at Matthew—who looked utterly shattered, his heart torn open and tears still clinging to his cheeks. Gunwook said nothing; he simply reached out and wiped the tears from the corners of Matthew’s eyes. Matthew didn't want to be touched, but knowing that resistance would only bring more pain, he let Gunwook do as he pleased. Gunwook licked his finger, savoring the faint saltiness on his tongue and relishing every ounce of Matthew’s anguish.
He was a man of few words and rarely spoke about anything, leaving Matthew forever in the dark regarding his true intentions. That unpredictability terrified Matthew, so he dared not risk provoking him. Matthew had lost the courage, or the hope, of being set free, for the one time he had dared to wish for it, his friend had paid the price in his stead. That was why Matthew was scared, scared when, a few days later, the police arrived to question him about Taerae’s disappearance.
Matthew looked at the two men in police uniforms standing before him and suddenly felt nauseous. Memories of what had happened slowly replayed in his mind; not for a single second had he forgotten the sight of Taerae, his throat torn open and streaming with blood, being hoisted up to face the camera, his limp hand waving under the manipulation of his killers. Taerae’s eyes had lost all light, and the red hue saturating the air confirmed to Matthew that his closest friend was truly gone. It had all happened simply because he had said the wrong thing to a murderer posing as a police officer. Matthew could not bring himself to trust the police, nor did he have the courage to, regardless of whether the two men standing before him were genuine officers or impostors.
Matthew sat down as the two men requested and began answering their questions. What was his relationship with Taerae? When was the last time he had seen him? Had Taerae said anything before vanishing? Was there a possibility that Taerae had simply run away?
What kind of person was Taerae?
At that question, Matthew felt he could no longer hold it back. He wept; that was all he could do, for he had no choice and lacked the courage to do anything else. Matthew burst into tears, covering his face with his hands and sobbing uncontrollably. Memories of Taerae and an overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over him, leaving him too distraught to utter a single coherent sentence. People often grow accustomed to suffering when they are immersed in it for too long. But Matthew, Matthew was different. Before meeting Gunwook, Matthew had been truly happy, so happy that he had never once had to attend the funeral of a family member. His grandparents were still alive, his parents and sister were in good health, and his friends were enjoying smooth, fulfilling university lives. Matthew had lived under the favor of fate for twenty years, only to pay a price heavier than anyone else’s.
They say everything in life comes at a cost, and the price for those twenty years of happiness was surely a future steeped in agony. Matthew could not escape, even if he wanted to; as long as Park Gunwook withheld permission, he didn't even have the right to die.
After a bout of weeping, Matthew looked up at the two police officers. They remained seated, waiting for his answer. They might be impostors, or they might be real. Matthew didn't know, and he no longer dared to ask. It was a bloody game of chess where a single wrong move could cost the life of someone close to him, so he dared not take the risk. He simply rubbed his eyes, tried to gather the last shreds of his composure, and replied in a voice hoarse with suffering:
“I don’t know.”
Matthew didn’t know. True, he knew nothing at all, and that was for the best. As long as Matthew obediently followed Gunwook’s orders, the man would have no reason to kill other innocent people. If Matthew just stayed compliant, everyone would live, and he could continue to bask in the happiness bestowed upon him by Park Gunwook.
That was why he couldn't understand why Gunwook hit him after they returned home.
A slap to his left cheek, and Matthew’s sanity vanished in an instant. His head rang, and his vision blurred into chaos. The spot where he’d been struck burned and throbbed with relentless pain. Matthew lay motionless on the cold floor, wondering why the winter evening had arrived so early. Why was the sky pitch-black, and why was everything shrouded in darkness, just like Park Gunwook’s heart?
Gunwook showed no mercy, nor did he give Matthew time to react; he straddled Matthew’s stomach and immediately swung his hand to slap the other cheek. The pain left Matthew dazed. He could feel nothing but misery until blood from his nose trickled down into his mouth. The sharp, metallic, salty taste jolted him, screaming for him to regain enough consciousness to put a stop to it all. Matthew raised his hands to shield his face, but it was futile; Gunwook had already shifted tactics. The larger man’s hand clamped tightly around his throat, a grip so fierce it felt as though his bones might shatter. The sensation of suffocation made Matthew thrash; despite his dwindling strength, instinct drove him to fight for survival. He clawed at Gunwook’s hand, leaving red welts and a faint stinging sensation on the skin, marks that Gunwook found amusing. With every breath choked off in his throat and his vision blurred by tears, Matthew couldn't muster the presence of mind to beg for mercy. Yet, if he didn't say something, he might well be killed.
“P-please… I’m… I’m sorry…”
Matthew struggled to speak between gasps for air beneath Gunwook’s cruel grip, but the other man seemed utterly indifferent. Gunwook scoffed as the scratching against the back of his hand grew weak and the choked sobs faded into the silence of the winter afternoon; only then did he finally release Matthew.
Matthew lay there, fighting to breathe, gulping in great lungfuls of air to save his suffocating lungs. His mind was blank, and indeed, thinking would have been of no use in his current predicament. All he could do was try to stay alive. He didn't even have time to feel fear before Gunwook stood up and delivered a kick to his stomach. Matthew cried out, momentarily losing control of his body as the pain overwhelmed him; it felt as though that single kick had shattered his organs. He curled up, clutching his abdomen and struggling to breathe. The pain and breathlessness sent his mind into a chaotic whirl. Why? It hurts so much! Why? Please stop! It hurts! A hundred jumbled thoughts collided in his head, and he truly didn't know how to stop the other man. All he could do was weep as he huddled there in a wretched state.
As for Gunwook, he simply got up and walked into the kitchen. He offered no explanation and seemed completely unbothered by the brutal beating he had just inflicted. When Matthew finally regained enough strength to go looking for him, he caught the scent of something appetizing wafting from the kitchen. Unsure of what to do but knowing he couldn't hide forever, he eventually stepped inside.
Gunwook was standing by the stove; a pot was simmering with something, while a pan on the other burner was frying what looked like tonkatsu. Matthew stood in the doorway, watching him cook and wondering what he wanted, until Gunwook noticed his presence. Turning to see him, Gunwook smiled and spoke gently.
"Could you help me set the table? I'm almost done cooking."
Matthew was too terrified to step further inside, yet Gunwook didn't rush him. After a long moment, Matthew finally gathered the courage to approach the dish cabinet and arrange the plates on the table. By then, Gunwook had finished cooking. He placed two large tonkatsu onto the plates. Next, he scooped rice into bowls and inverted them onto the plates. Finally, he ladled out the day's main dish from the pot. Three generous scoops of curry for each, making for a hearty, delicious dinner for the two of them.
Japanese-style curry—Taerae’s favorite.
Matthew nearly jumped when the other man set the dinner down in front of him, but he quickly composed himself. Gunwook might know a lot about him, perhaps because he had a crush on him or something similar, but he certainly had no interest in Taerae, so there was no way he could know that this was Taerae’s favorite dish. It had to be just a damn coincidence, and Matthew needed to keep his suspicions to himself unless he wanted to set the guy off. So, he picked up his spoon and started eating his portion.
As always, Matthew admired Gunwook’s cooking skills. Everything he made was so delicious that Matthew felt if he ever opened a restaurant, it would become famous in no time. Matthew didn't want to heap praise on someone like Park Gunwook, especially not after just getting the living daylights beaten out of him, but when he looked up and met Gunwook’s dark, intense gaze, he felt he had to say something to smooth things over.
“Do you like curry? I heard you aren't fond of strong-smelling foods, but I felt like a hot plate of curry was perfect for a cold day like today. If you don't like it, I won't make it again.”
Gunwook could be incredibly attentive, almost doting, in the little things he did for Matthew. He knew Matthew liked the scent of cherry blossoms, so he paid extra at the apartment complex’s laundry facility to have both their clothes washed with cherry blossom-scented detergent. He willingly endured the cold so Matthew could sleep at a comfortable temperature; Matthew had discovered this one night when he woke up to use the bathroom and found Gunwook shivering, even though he was under the covers. He would even make burgers without cheese, or forgo his own favorite cheesecake in favor of the chocolate cakes Matthew liked, all so Matthew would feel comfortable with whatever was in the fridge.
It was the accumulation of all these little things that made Park Gunwook someone capable of loving him more than anyone else, and, at the same time, capable of being crueler to him than anyone else.
Matthew stared at him blankly for a moment, then nodded and quickly replied before taking another spoonful of rice.
“Not at all. I really like it. Curry is perfect for weather like this.”
Gunwook smiled, clearly pleased that Matthew enjoyed the Japanese-style curry he had cooked. Japanese curry had a milder aroma than Indian curry and was served with tonkatsu, making it a dish Matthew could actually enjoy. It certainly wasn't because Taerae, whenever the group went out to eat, would insist on having Japanese curry, regardless of whether the restaurant served European or Asian cuisine. If the dish was on the menu, it would inevitably end up on the table in front of Taerae; he treated it like the love of his life.
Matthew missed Taerae terribly, and he let himself get lost in thought as he spooned the delicious curry into his mouth. If Taerae were still here, Matthew would surely have begged Gunwook to set aside a portion to take to him the next day. That way, Taerae’s dinner would be sorted; he wouldn't have to resort to eating near-expiry food from the convenience store anymore.
Matthew wished he had helped Taerae more, given him more, and protected him better. But those were wishes that would never, ever come true.
Matthew slowly finished his meal and obediently drank the glass of juice Gunwook had poured for him. After the beating he had just endured, it was difficult for him to bring himself to speak to the other man. Gunwook didn't rush him. He wasn't much of a talker himself, so he usually let Matthew sit there glued to his phone without a word of complaint, even though he disapproved of the habit. Gunwook watched him finish the meal he had prepared, then smiled and asked,
"So, how did Taerae taste?"
For the first few seconds, Matthew didn't even grasp what the other man had said.
He stared blankly, looking straight into Gunwook’s eyes and the sinister smile playing on his lips. What had Gunwook just said? He didn't know. But slowly, the events of the evening came back to him. They had just eaten Japanese curry, curry sauce with tonkatsu. There was meat in the curry itself, and, of course, the tonkatsu.
Meat...
Matthew’s breath caught in his throat as a wave of revulsion washed over his entire body. He didn't even have time to make it to the bathroom; he immediately doubled over and vomited up everything he had just eaten. His head spun, as if he had swallowed deadly poison, or perhaps it was simply the shock stripping away his last shred of composure. He couldn't think; he could only focus on retching up everything in his stomach. He didn't stop until his throat was raw and burning. He pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling as though remnants of the thing still lingered inside; he shoved his fingers into his mouth, clawing at his throat to force everything back up. After retching once, then twice, bringing up gastric juices mixed with traces of blood, Matthew realized he had torn his throat; by then, his stomach was empty.
Matthew stared at the mess he had just vomited, his mind spiraling into chaos. He couldn't think, or rather, he refused to think about what had just happened. Meanwhile, Gunwook sat opposite him, smiling back at Matthew’s terrified gaze. He hadn't finished his own portion yet, so he calmly cut off a piece of the fried meat and popped it into his mouth.
“So, you didn't like the taste of Taerae?”
Could a madman ever truly understand the mind of a normal person? Or did he understand it all too well, and that was exactly why he did it?
Matthew didn't answer; in truth, he couldn't come up with a fitting response. Did Gunwook fail to understand why Matthew was reacting so violently, or had he anticipated this reaction and acted deliberately? Gunwook was sick to the very marrow of his bones, which was precisely why Matthew couldn't fathom the reason behind his actions. He simply stared at him, feeling his breath catch in his bitter throat as fear seeped deep into his bones. Should he apologize for wasting the meal Gunwook had gone to such lengths to prepare? Or should he fly into a rage and scream, demanding to know why Gunwook had done this? Matthew was terrified of Gunwook; his cowardice was truly pathetic, so even after being tricked into eating his own friend, he didn't dare lash out or confront him. He didn't even have the courage to raise his voice at the man; perhaps the beating he’d just endured was meant to teach him not to defy him. In truth, he had no strength left to put up a fight anyway, so he simply asked, his voice trembling.
“Why?”
Gunwook didn’t answer; he just smiled. To him, tricking Matthew into eating his own friend was nothing more than a skit, a brief source of amusement to be enjoyed for a few minutes before he went back to his daily life without a second thought. This time, Matthew raised his voice a little, his body leaning forward as tears welled up in his eyes.
“Why!?”
Gunwook finally finished the last piece of meat on his plate. He pulled out a napkin, gently wiped his mouth, and then looked over at Matthew. Even then, Matthew didn't dare scream or sob uncontrollably to confront him. In truth, he felt more revulsion toward himself than anything else. He hated himself for failing to realize the situation. He couldn't forgive himself for thinking the dinner was delicious. He had eaten Taerae and thought he tasted good. A human being, a friend, and Matthew had actually thought he was delicious? If Gunwook was a sicko, then Matthew was just as despicable; after all, Gunwook wouldn't have had the chance to wear that smug look if Matthew hadn't said how much he enjoyed the curry Gunwook had cooked for dinner.
The meat had tasted a bit strange, and although Matthew had briefly wondered what kind of meat Gunwook had used, he had ultimately pushed those questions aside to enjoy the meal Gunwook had gone to such lengths to prepare for him.
“Just kidding.”
Gunwook said, instantly cutting off the surge of outrage rising within Matthew. Matthew was left dumbfounded by the reply, looking for a moment like a fool who had flown into a rage over a cruel prank. Gunwook didn't need to soften his voice to soothe him, nor did he need violence to silence him. With just one sentence, he made Matthew loathe himself, and with that same sentence, he turned him into a joke. Matthew was nothing but a fool, easily made into a plaything, with no way to escape. He straightened up, dazed by the answer, and watched as Gunwook stood up. Gunwook cleared away the dishes, murmuring a reminder to Matthew as he did so.
“Clean up.”
Matthew didn’t dare talk back, mostly because he was scared of provoking him. Once he finished tidying up, he rinsed his mouth and checked the tear in his throat; it was still sore, but it would likely heal soon. Not seeing Gunwook when he returned, Matthew went to look for him. He wasn't sure when exactly Gunwook’s absence had started making him so anxious. It had been the same earlier: even after being beaten black and blue, the first thing he did upon getting back on his feet was search for him. He felt a need to stay close, whether out of fear that Gunwook might hurt someone else if left alone, or simply because he felt uneasy without him nearby; Matthew couldn't say. The apartment was vast and sprawling, but after searching for a while, he finally found Gunwook sitting in the home theater. Spotting him there made Matthew’s heart skip a beat. He stood in the doorway, watching Gunwook intently focused on something inside. The room was pitch-black, leaving his face to flicker in and out of view in the glow from the screen. Matthew wanted to ask what he was watching, or at least whether he wanted him there. But his throat was parched and the words caught in his chest, leaving him standing frozen in place.
“Come here.”
Gunwook beckoned, prompting Matthew to hurry over. Matthew was obedient to a fault; no matter how often he was teased or tormented, he would simply do as Gunwook wished without a word of complaint. Gunwook, however, was different. He paused the movie, tilted his head to look at Matthew, and reached out to stroke his cheek. His skin was ice-cold, almost inhuman, much like his heart, surely. Matthew didn't pull away; he sat still, letting the other man caress his face while gazing into those deep, dark eyes. He didn't know what Gunwook was thinking, nor did he particularly want to know. Gunwook was like a snow-blanketed winter: a landscape of endless white, a touch that was both cold and damp, leaving behind nothing but discomfort. Yet, Matthew had never hated winter; it was the season that held his fondest family memories. Skiing trips, Christmas, New Year’s—they all happened when the snow was falling. The cold made family gatherings feel all the more precious; the closeness and the shared warmth became a gift beyond compare.
Park Gunwook, conversely, had never known that kind of warmth. He received dozens of gifts every Christmas and enough lucky money to sustain someone for a lifetime, yet he had never felt truly happy. Gunwook knew his concept of happiness was warped, so he expected nothing from it. Still, he would smile and offer thanks, telling everyone how glad he was to have them in his life. The fake warmth he cast could never thaw him out; in fact, it only made him feel colder. No matter how hard he tried to sense the sincerity in their hearts, or how much he tried to convince himself he was deeply loved, Gunwook remained too clear-eyed to ignore the truth: what he held in his hands was not love.
They gave him gifts and cold, hard cash, all in exchange for the favors he might grant them in the future.
But Matthew had promised to love him for who he truly was, even if, deep down, he wasn't even human. And so, Gunwook stood there, baring his true self, allowing Matthew to understand him and offer the warm love he had pledged.
Gunwook didn't say much; he simply whispered the words as he leaned in to press a soft kiss against Matthew’s lips.
“Do you want to know where that meat came from?”
“Just kidding”—that was what he had said, though it might well have been a lie. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought the subject up again. Gunwook was a man of few words; he wouldn’t dwell on an issue he deemed unimportant. Yet, with that single, simple sentence, he had terrified Matthew enough to make him instinctively try to push him away. Gunwook didn’t budge; instead, he grasped Matthew’s hand, his thumb caressing the smaller man’s palm in a soothing, coaxing motion. Matthew didn’t dare bite him; he simply parted his lips, allowing Gunwook to slip his tongue inside and swirl it around. The way Gunwook moved, tangling their tongues together amidst the lingering sweetness of cherry blossom candy, made Matthew’s mind go hazy. His composure dissolved like mist, and no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it, he was no match for Gunwook. He felt a strange contrast: Gunwook’s body was cool, yet the kiss itself was searingly hot and wet. Matthew wanted to push him away, to demand to know what he meant and what he wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to resist. This domineering, ruthless man always knew how to make him submit; after enduring so much torment at Gunwook’s hands, Matthew no longer had the courage to put up a fierce fight.
Breaking the kiss, Gunwook smiled as he watched Matthew panting, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Matthew’s slightly wavy black hair fell over his eyes, lending him a look of vulnerability that aroused Gunwook to the very limit. But he didn't let himself act too hastily; instead, he leaned in and licked away the tears that had been streaming down Matthew's cheeks. His soft tongue traced a path up Matthew's cheek toward the corners of his eyes. Then, he planted gentle kisses on Matthew's eyelids and, finally, his forehead. Gunwook practically enveloped Matthew’s small frame in his embrace, seeking a bit of warmth as a small reward after a long, exhausting day. Matthew didn't want to fight back anymore, partly because he was too tired, and partly because lying in Gunwook's arms wasn't as unpleasant as he had imagined.
At first, Matthew had thought Gunwook was like a wolf, given his ruthless nature and a smile that reminded him of a wolf baring its fangs. But now, as the other man licked the tears from the corners of his eyes, Matthew felt he was more like a big puppy. His tongue was soft and carried the sweet scent of candy, reminding Matthew of his own dog back home, the way she would lick his face after she’d eaten ice cream. Matthew lay still in Gunwook's arms, silently berating himself for his cowardice; he hadn't dared to fight back for fear of being hit, yet here he was, thinking of the man as nothing more than a pet dog.
Gunwook finally stopped; he looked down at Matthew, who was drifting into a daze, and chuckled. He let go, leaned back slightly, and whisper.
"I'll answer you if you make me happy."
Gunwook’s idea of happy was vastly different from the norm, a fact that made Matthew nervous. Yet, at least this time Gunwook was giving him a choice, and since he didn't seem to be dragging anyone else into the mix, Matthew could breathe a little easier. If there was one thing Matthew was certain of, it was that Gunwook wouldn't kill him. He still held some value to the man; whether it was love or lust, Gunwook needed him.
This realization brought Matthew not only relief but also a strange sense of complacent satisfaction.
“What do you want?”
Matthew asked, and Gunwook simply smiled in response. He said nothing more; instead, he pointed down at his crotch. Matthew wasn't particularly surprised by the request. After all, it had been nearly two weeks since they last had sex, or, to be more precise, since Gunwook had last raped him. Gunwook seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure from it, though Matthew couldn't tell if it was the physical sensation or the thrill of domination that excited him more. Regardless, Matthew intended to get it over with quickly; at least he was fortunate enough to be allowed to take the initiative this time. But before he could even pull down his own pants, Gunwook spoke up.
“Use your mouth.”
Matthew paused, suspicious of why Gunwook was going so easy on him. He didn't waste time questioning it, however; instead, he knelt before Gunwook and pulled down the man's trousers. Seeing Gunwook’s fully exposed cock for the first time, Matthew felt a sudden surge of fear. He wasn't sure he could take the whole thing into his mouth, but that prospect was less daunting than the nagging fear that the meat he had eaten might actually belong to Taerae. So, he grasped the massive length and began stroking it while circling the tip with his tongue. Matthew had never done this before, so naturally, he didn't quite know the right technique. Fortunately, Gunwook didn't seem to mind his inexperience; in fact, he appeared to enjoy Matthew's awkwardness and tentative movements. Seeing that there were no complaints, Matthew gained a bit of confidence and continued the blowjob without saying another word.
Matthew began by licking from the base to the tip, sucking firmly on the head before slowly tracing small circles over it with his tongue. His warm hands moved somewhat hesitantly at first, but eventually, they gently cupped and caressed Gunwook’s balls in a steady rhythm. When his cock finally stood fully erect, revealing its impressive size, Matthew faltered for a brief moment. Yet, he overcame his apprehension and opened his mouth to take it in. The way he latched onto Gunwook’s cock, much like biting into a steamed bun, looked both adorable and slightly comical, making Gunwook stifle a giggle.
Matthew took as much of it into his mouth as he could and began to suck. Lewd sounds filled the air each time he pushed the length deeper, coating it in a slick layer of saliva. Gunwook’s cock, which had been cool to the touch, matching his body temperature, now rested inside Matthew’s scorching mouth; the stark contrast in temperatures sent a thrill through Gunwook that was hard to suppress. Still, he remained still to see what Matthew would do next, and sure enough, the other man soon came up with a new idea.
Matthew stripped off his shirt, leaned forward, and trapped the erect cock between his breasts while sucking on the tip. His chest was soft and warm, offering immediate comfort to the cock that had just left the heat of his mouth. He rhythmically rubbed his breasts against Gunwook’s member, never once ceasing his suction on the hard cock. Gunwook silently appreciated Matthew’s full, soft physique; he never would have imagined that Matthew would incorporate his chest into the act. He seemed pleased with the blowjob and tit-job, but it wasn't enough.
Gunwook reached out, grabbed Matthew’s hair, and forced his head down. His cock—thick and rock-hard—thrust deep into Matthew’s throat, crushing his windpipe and making it impossible to breathe. The cool, prominently veined cock pressed against the roof of his mouth and tongue so intensely it triggered a gag reflex. Yet, with his stomach already empty, nothing but gastric fluid spilled from the corners of his mouth when the cock was withdrawn. Gunwook took a brief breath before shoving Matthew’s head down again, forcing him to take that massive length into his mouth once more. Matthew clutched at Gunwook’s knees and chest, trying to push him away, but it was futile; Gunwook kept a firm grip on his hair, forcing him to swallow the whole thing.
Matthew’s mouth was warm and wet, providing Gunwook with waves of stimulation whenever his cock was fully sheathed inside. Matthew’s throat muscles contracted, caressing the cock and heightening Gunwook’s pleasure. The regurgitated gastric fluid made the movement slicker, allowing the cock to thrust even deeper into Matthew’s throat. Struggling not only for breath but also against the pain, Matthew wept, tears streaming down his cheeks, yet he couldn't utter a single word of plea. He could only offer a feeble, useless attempt to push the other man away.
The next time Gunwook pulled out, he could see a smear of blood on his cock. The earlier wound in Matthew’s throat must have torn open again; whenever Gunwook thrust in, Matthew would clutch at his shirt and hiss in pain. The internal wound was repeatedly abraded by Gunwook’s cock, tearing wider with every movement. The metallic, salty taste of blood coated Gunwook’s member, lingering on Matthew’s tongue and sliding down his throat, accompanied by a stinging sensation so intense it made him want to curl up in agony.
Blood flowed more freely, filling Matthew’s mouth with its pungent scent, yet Gunwook remained indifferent. He gripped Matthew’s hair, thrusting violently without a thought for the severity of the injury inside Matthew’s mouth. Matthew could not beg for mercy; he could only take shallow breaths whenever Gunwook pulled back. Each thrust made him clutch Gunwook’s shirt and cry out in pain, reactions that only fueled Gunwook’s arousal. There was a reason for everything he did, and it would be a lie to say he hadn't demanded this blow job, hoping that the wound in Matthew’s throat would tear wide open and stain his cock red.
Then again, Matthew’s reaction was perhaps a bit extreme, considering the idea had only just crossed Gunwook’s mind.
Finally, Gunwook shuddered and came inside. His pungent semen was pumped straight down Matthew’s throat, churning his stomach with its revolting taste. As Gunwook withdrew, Matthew immediately bowed his head and began to cough violently. He really wanted to retch up all that semen, but the injury in his throat was too severe to risk sticking his fingers down there. At least it was over; Gunwook was fixing his clothes. He helped Matthew up and asked him to raise his arms so he could put his shirt back on. Gunwook was gentle as he adjusted the shirt, then ruffled Matthew’s hair and whispered before leaving.
“It wasn’t Taerae.”
Hearing that, Matthew felt a massive weight lift from his chest. He couldn't help but smile at Gunwook, watching his back as he walked out of the screening room. It was getting late, so Matthew needed to shower before bed. He gathered his clothes and headed to the bathroom, thinking that Gunwook was likely already in bed, waiting for him to join him. Gunwook didn't have any bad sleeping habits, though he couldn't sleep well without holding Matthew; his body temperature dropped lower than usual while he slept, so he needed Matthew to keep him warm. Matthew didn't mind; in fact, he found it comforting to be needed in that way.
Meanwhile, Gunwook was in the kitchen, checking the expiration dates on two pork cuts he’d just bought at the supermarket. Who would have guessed those guys would deliver the package today of all days? Still, the pork would keep for a few more days, enough time to make some good pork dishes, so there was no risk of wasting such good cuts. He put the tray in the fridge and went back to the room to grab a tube of ointment from the first-aid kit; he couldn't just leave the injury in Matthew's throat untreated.