Three Eight-Chapter 25: 18+

Now, Hongju was in a situation no different from being in the gambling house. The atmosphere was just as suffocating, making it impossible to even swallow a sip of water comfortably.

"That's why I moved with them."

Was it Guppping? Was he trying to hand him over instead of money again? What if President Mu-gyeong agreed? The cold temperature of dawn seeped into the nape of his neck.

"As long as nothing blew up, that's enough."

The flow of conversation was unpredictable. It didn't seem to be Guppping. Hongju focused all his attention on the low, resonant voice.

Mu-gyeong leaned against the island bar and gulped down a bottle of water. His head tilted back, his Adam’s apple shifting with each swallow. Even while continuing his phone call, his unwavering gaze remained fixed on Hongju. Enduring the scorching intensity of that stare, Hongju swallowed down the dry thirst in his throat.

"Yeah. If we keep poking at it, something should come up."

Hongju briefly observed his damp lips moving before looking away. His gaze wandered meaninglessly over the scars on Mu-gyeong’s firm body, only for Mu-gyeong to glance down at himself.

"Ah, are you curious about this?"

It was unclear whether he was asking Hongju or still talking on the phone. When Hongju stayed silent, simply standing there dumbfounded, Mu-gyeong abruptly ended the call. Even as the voice on the other end continued speaking, he mercilessly tossed the phone onto the couch. Running a hand through his neatly dried hair, he approached Hongju.

"Is this what you were staring at so intently?"

The tips of their shoes barely touched. Hongju froze completely, clutching his robe tightly. Amused by his fearful expression, Mu-gyeong suddenly grabbed his thin wrist with a rough grip.

"Wh-why."

Mu-gyeong forcibly pulled Hongju’s hand to his side. Cold, pale fingertips brushed against the raised, reddened scar tissue. Even if he wanted to retreat, the window behind him blocked the way.

"You think just looking will tell you anything? You have to touch to really know."

"No, I'm not curious, so, please, my hand—"

The more he twisted his wrist to escape, the more his fingers ran over the hardened scars. The sensation of tracing the lines of Mu-gyeong’s body made something twist inside him. Mu-gyeong licked his lips and let out a slow, heated breath.

"I told you before. It’s all over your face."

Hongju kept trying to back away even though there was nowhere to go. His heels bumped against the icy glass, his damp hair clinging to the condensation forming on the window.

"You keep saying you're not interested, yet you keep staring. ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Who’s the liar here?"

His trembling wrist was still caught in a relentless grip. Even when still, Mu-gyeong exuded an oppressive presence, but now there was something even heavier, a suffocating force pressing down on Hongju. His bare, pale feet twitched against the cold floor.

"Are you trying to figure out a way to take advantage of me?"

"No, I wasn’t thinking that."

As he shook his head frantically, his wet hair smudged against the window. Mu-gyeong’s gaze flickered over the tangled strands before he finally released Hongju’s wrist. Instead, he spread both arms out, bracing his palms against the window on either side of Hongju’s head. Instantly, a massive shadow loomed over him.

"I can’t trust the words of someone who plays tricks at the gambling table."

The sheer size of Mu-gyeong, standing so close, was overwhelming. The atmosphere took another strange turn. Hongju desperately wanted to get away, but no matter how he struggled, he remained trapped.

"I-I don't—"

He had intended to say he didn’t play tricks, but he shut his mouth. Just a few hours ago, he had been sitting at the same table, holding cards in his hands. That excuse wouldn’t work. His chapped lips parted, barely making a sound.

"We’re on the same boat now. Shouldn’t we have a little more trust between us?"

"......."

"How do you think we can build trust? Between you, the collateral, and me?"

Calling him collateral, Mu-gyeong’s hand brushed against the collar of Hongju’s robe. With a flick of his fingers, he pulled the fabric aside slightly, then withdrew.

"Maybe I should ask Gu Madam."

A solid body blocked his way, arms caging him in with no room to escape. An unyielding stare pinned him down. Hongju knew exactly what was being demanded of him in this situation.

"......."

He had thought Mu-gyeong was at least better than Guppping. But in the end, they were the same. Both were only interested in money and getting off on looking at another man.

Hongju inhaled deeply, biting the inside of his cheek.

"......Hah."

Exhaling a small sigh, he forced himself into a mindset of detachment. Maybe this would be better than dealing with Guppping. Even Guppping hadn’t pushed it that far. Mu-gyeong would probably be the same. Most men had an aversion to anything beyond a certain line when it came to being with another man. If he just played along a little, it might be over quickly.

Rationalizing endlessly, he subtly bent his knees.

But Mu-gyeong slammed his palm against the window.

"Where the fuck do you think you're putting that mouth that’s been sucking off other men?"

Hongju flinched upright, eyes darting up to gauge his reaction. If not his mouth, then his hands? His fingers, trembling finely, reached out, slipping between the folds of the towel.

Mu-gyeong didn’t scold him this time. That meant he was doing the right thing.

Hongju clenched his lower lip between his teeth. The place that had split open earlier still tasted faintly of iron.

"......."

His fingertips brushed against something hot and rigid. Though still covered by the towel, the thick weight of it was unmistakable. Hesitantly, Hongju squeezed, feeling the solid veins beneath the skin shift under his palm. At first, it was simply firm, but as he continued to move his fingers, it gradually swelled and grew harder.

"Hoo."

A deep, rough sigh spilled from above his head. He couldn’t even cover his right ear to block out the sound, his hand already occupied.

The motion of his fingers quickened. His grip tightened as he ran his thumb over the prominent veins, pressing and rubbing against the flushed head. The towel over it twitched violently with each stroke.

"Ah."

The fabric barely held together. It had shifted enough that the darkened tip was now visible. Hongju’s palm felt damp where it pressed against him. The humid texture smeared against his skin, making him loosen his grip.

"Don’t stop."

The cold command made Hongju freeze. Mu-gyeong’s hand suddenly gripped the back of his head, forcing his chin upward.

"Is it because it’s not your specialty?"

Swallowing down his dry throat, Hongju’s Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. His breath trembled as he resumed stroking Mu-gyeong’s length. He tightened his grip just enough, tracing the thick veins with his thumb, pressing down against the slickened tip.

"......."

Lifting his gaze, he saw Mu-gyeong frowning slightly, his expression tightening.

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He was enjoying this.

Seeing that familiar expression of pleasure, no different from Guppping’s, made nausea churn in his stomach. Hongju bit down hard on his lower lip. The metallic tang of blood seeped across his tongue.

"Why are you slowing down?"

"Ugh!"

Hongju’s head was yanked back again, roughly forced into place. Mu-gyeong’s grip was so tight that the bones on the back of his hand struck the glass window with a loud thud. Hongju’s fingers moved quickly over the scorching, solid flesh beneath his touch. Mu-gyeong’s lowered gaze traced over Hongju’s wrist, the parted front of his robe, and the exposed curve of his throat. Finally, his eyes settled on the fine, trembling lashes.

“Ha.”

Mu-gyeong let out a scoffing laugh as he watched Hongju quiver. But the moment his heat pressed against the sensitive tip, his smirk vanished. His fingers curled against the windowpane as if trying to crush it, and instead of gripping Hongju’s hair, he grasped his slender neck. His grip was so tight that the flesh beneath his fingertips caved in, turning a deep shade of red.

“Ah...”

A short, sticky groan escaped from Mu-gyeong’s lips. His hips jerked forward slightly, and then he came. The towel at his waist darkened with the spreading wetness, and a thick stream trickled down onto the back of Hongju’s hand.

“Haa.”

Breathing heavily, Mu-gyeong exhaled deeply before suddenly pulling away Hongju’s robe. His cold gaze swept down, fixating between Hongju’s dry, thin thighs. Hongju hurriedly grabbed his wrist to stop him, but he couldn’t push back against the firm strength holding him in place.

“...You came, so that should be enough.”

“Hah.”

Mu-gyeong let out another hollow laugh at the way Hongju was glaring up at him with something close to contempt. He had made Hongju use his hands, but not even a trace of arousal showed on the younger man’s face. There was no desire, no reaction—just a barren expression staring back at him, as if sex meant nothing. It was almost ridiculous. Yet somehow, that lack of response only stirred a deeper need for conquest inside him. A flame of irritation flickered in Mu-gyeong’s pitch-black eyes. Lowering his head suddenly, their noses pressed together, rubbing against each other.

“...”

Hongju clenched his wet hand into a tight fist. Between his curled fingers, a slick trace of semen oozed out. They were too close—so close that all he could see was the slant of Mu-gyeong’s dark eyes. Each breath Mu-gyeong exhaled spread damply over his lips.

"It'd be unfair if only I got off, wouldn’t it?"

He only had one functioning ear, but Mu-gyeong’s voice—low, thick, and drawn out—rang through his entire body. The sticky sound of lips parting and a slow, deliberate flick of a tongue sent a shiver down Hongju’s spine. He stopped breathing for a second.

“...”

The slick warmth pressed against his torn lips was more hot than painful. Mu-gyeong’s tongue, broad and wet, pressed against Hongju’s lower lip, smearing against the wound. He licked at the split skin deliberately, slow enough to make sure Hongju felt every movement. Hongju, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation, couldn’t even blink properly.

“Haha.”

Watching Hongju with half-lidded eyes, Mu-gyeong finally let out a chuckle. Straightening up again, his towering figure cast a shadow over Hongju’s entire body.

“Ugh!”

The fingers around his neck suddenly shifted, gripping his hair instead. His lips, slick with spit and blood, trembled slightly. He couldn’t see Mu-gyeong’s face clearly with the light behind him, but his gaze burned vividly. A moment later, Mu-gyeong yanked him forward.

Hongju stumbled backward onto the sofa. The motion made his robe slip, exposing his thighs all the way up to his hips. Before he could even recover from the shock, he scrambled to grab at the fabric. His hands flailed, trying to pull the robe back down, but his wrists were seized instantly. The touch was slick—his hands, still sticky from earlier, slid against Mu-gyeong’s grip.

Panicked, Hongju’s eyes darted up, meeting Mu-gyeong’s gaze.

“You know, something’s been bothering me.”

Mu-gyeong climbed onto the sofa, one knee pressing into the cushion beside Hongju. His smirk, tilted and unreadable, carried an unmistakable chill.

“You’re looking at me the same way you look at Gu Madam.”