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The morning light in Wolf’s apartment didn't bring warmth; it only brought clarity. The grey, filtered dawn cut through the blinds, casting stark lines across the bed where Grape still lay, curled like a discarded ribbon against Wolf’s leg.
The initial euphoria of the reclamation had cooled, leaving behind the dull, throb of reality. Grape’s body felt shattered, but his mind was already turning hyper-fixated on the man beside him. He shifted slightly, a low wince catching in his throat as the raw friction between his thighs flared up.
Wolf was already awake. He sat propped up against the pillows, staring down at Grape with a cold, analytical intensity that made Grape’s stomach do a familiar, desperate flip. Wolf’s hand remained anchored in Grape’s hair, tugging just enough to force Grape’s face upward.
"You're still shaking," Wolf murmured, his voice rough with sleep but devoid of any softness.
"I'm fine," Grape whispered, though a stray tear slipped from the corner of his eye from the sheer soreness of his muscles.
Wolf’s eyes locked onto that single track of moisture. His thumb reached out, catching the tear right at the curve of Grape's cheekbone. He didn't wipe it away to be kind; he pressed down hard, smearing the salt into the sensitive, split skin of Grape’s cheek from the night before.
Grape let out a sharp, involuntary gasp, his eyes instantly welling with fresh, stinging tears.
A sudden, sharp shift occurred in Wolf’s expression. The cold detachment cracked, replaced by a dark, fascinated focus. He leaned down closer, his breath hot against Grape's wet face, his gaze entirely consumed by the way the tears tracked down Grape's flushed skin. He liked the pain, yes, but the *weeping*—the absolute breaking of Grape’s internal dam—was a different kind of currency.
"Look at you," Wolf whispered, his thumb trailing down to capture another heavy drop. "You’re a total mess. Do it more."
"Wolf..." Grape choked out, the humiliation of being watched so closely during his undoing sending a hot flush down his neck.
"I didn't tell you to use my name," Wolf growled, his teeth suddenly baring as he leaned down and clamped his jaws onto the meat of Grape’s shoulder.
He bit down with deliberate, bruising force, breaking the surface of the skin just enough to draw a bead of metallic crimson. Grape shrieked, his fingers clawing at the tangled sheets, his legs twisting together in a desperate surge of masochistic pleasure. The pain was a lightning strike, and with it came the tears—heavy, thick, and continuous, pouring down his face in a frantic rush.
Wolf pulled back, his lips stained slightly red, his eyes dark and wide as he watched Grape sob. The sight of Grape utterly undone by the pain, his face ruined with tears, was clearly doing something volatile to Wolf's own composure.
Wolf reached down, his hand wrapping around Grape’s waist and flipping him onto his back with zero ceremony. He stripped the blanket away entirely, exposing Grape to the cool air of the room.
In the harsh morning light, Grape’s vulnerability was absolute. Stripped bare, without the dark covering of the night, his physical insecurities were laid flat. He was built small, but more than that, he was incredibly poorly endowed—a fact that had always fueled his deep-seated anxiety and sense of inadequacy.
As Wolf’s eyes traveled down Grape’s body, landing on the small, pathetic display between his thighs, Grape instinctively tried to cross his legs, a burning wave of shame hitting him.
"Don't hide it," Wolf commanded, slapping Grape’s inner thigh until his legs parted again.
Wolf stared down at him, a slow, mocking smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't disgust; it was the pure satisfaction of a sadist who knew exactly how much leverage he held. The contrast between Wolf's dominant presence and Grape’s meager, fragile proportions made the power dynamic undeniable.
"You really didn't get blessed with much, did you, Gongsami?" Wolf jeered softly, his fingers reaching down to prod at Grape’s small, soft length with a humiliating lack of reverence. "So little, and yet you still think you can belong to someone like me."
"I'm sorry," Grape whimpered, the rejection and the intense shame mixing into a toxic, addictive cocktail. The tears were blinding now, spilling over his temples and soaking into the mattress. "I know... I know I'm not... please..."
"Shut up," Wolf snapped, but his voice was thick. He wasn't disgusted by Grape's size; if anything, the utter lack of threat, the sheer pitiable nature of Grape's body, made Wolf want to crush him completely.
Wolf hovered over him, his heavy chest pressing Grape down into the mattress. He didn't look at Grape's body anymore; his focus was entirely locked onto Grape's face, which was red, swollen, and drenched in tears. Wolf leaned down, using his tongue to lick the salt from Grape’s eyelids, drinking in the misery like a man dying of thirst.
"You're so pathetic it's beautiful," Wolf whispered against his lips, his grip tightening on Grape's wrists until the bone clicked. "Cry louder for me."
Grape let out a broken, shuddering sob, his small body trembling violently underneath Wolf's massive frame. He choked on his own breath, completely surrendered to the cruelty, knowing that every tear he shed was just fuel for the fire that was about to consume him all over again.