One step, then another.
I walked toward the man who’d called me over like I was some kind of dog.
He was still seated at the head of the table, watching me with that flat, unreadable gaze. Those eyes — impossible to see through — weighed on me.
I stood before him, but the awkwardness was indescribable. It felt like the inside of my body was burning, and the cough that had been caught in my throat kept slipping out in small bursts.
My heart was pounding with a ridiculous amount of noise. Was that why my stomach kept churning too.
The man stared at me without a word. Every time he looked at me like that, it felt like his gaze was licking over every inch of my body.
A disgusting feeling.
I was just about to look away first — to escape that stare — when he reached out and snatched my wrist.
And then.
“Ugh.”
He yanked me in one swift motion. I lost my grip on the glass I’d been holding, dropping it onto the sofa, and with my balance gone, I landed squarely on the man’s lap.
Crazy.
A curse shot up my throat. I grabbed his shoulders and tried to push myself off and stand. But he braced my waist firmly and pulled me in tight. Then he buried his face against the nape of my neck.
“……!”
I cut off a short breath and swallowed it down.
I’d nearly made a sound from sheer shock. The spot where he was pressing his nose was the exact place he’d bitten me yesterday. The pain there still hadn’t faded, and a dark reddish bruise was clearly visible. Skin had broken off too — it was a wound that had barely started to scab over.
When the man rubbed his face against it, I flinched.
I tried once more to pull free from him, putting force into my body. But the hand that had been wrapped around my waist trailed up my spine and coiled around me completely. As though cinching off my airway. I couldn’t breathe at all.
I clenched my teeth at that suffocating sensation.
My body, strung tight with tension, went rigid. Force gathered in my limbs as if bracing for the violence that would follow.
But the man didn’t move.
…What is he doing?
I tilted my head down slightly, wondering what on earth he was doing with his nose buried in someone else’s body — and it seemed like he was smelling me.
After a shift, I always reeked of sour, sweat-soaked stench — bad enough that my boss had once asked if I had a thing for filth. Nine-tenths of the smell came from that rotting mascot costume I wore, but still…
It was better than handing out flyers in that thing, sure, but right now my body was running hot and I’d been sweating quite a bit. No matter how wide he flared his nostrils, what he’d be catching was that kind of sweat smell — and yet the man didn’t lift his face away.
Seems like this bastard’s the one with a fetish.
How else could anyone do this.
The blonde, who had been watching all of this, let out a scoff.
“You’ve been stone-cold the whole time, so what’s so different about this one? Your eyes are practically spinning.”
I could feel the gazes landing on the back of my head like it was a target.
The man cupped the back of my head with his hand and pressed it down slowly, firmly. I was pulled flush against his body. From him seeped a scent laced with cigarettes and something else I couldn’t name.
It should have been the first time I’d ever smelled it — and yet it didn’t feel unfamiliar. A faint metallic tang of blood, thick leather, cigarette smoke that wasn’t sharp, the wet-earth scent of stepping deep into a forest, the sweetness of chocolate. All of it blended together, stirring through my mind.
Whatever the blonde saw, he said nothing more.
Then, exhaling a short breath, he rose from his seat.
“Not stealing him away. Relax.”
He let a laugh slip between his teeth as he continued.
“I’ve gotten too scared to stay any longer — think I’ll be heading out.”
The sound of the door opening, and just like that, the blonde left. The moment he did, the people who had been in the room began to move, one by one. As if they’d all planned it in advance, without a single word exchanged, everyone filtered out of the room.
Even the last one to remain — the main player — slipped out quietly, and the door clicked shut.
Click.
That sound rang out unusually loud.
Now in the room, there were only the two of us — me and the man.
A suffocating space, cut off from the outside world. My body burned with the heat of alcohol, tension, and rising fever. He slowly tightened around me. The faint sound of music drifted in like an auditory hallucination.
Being held in his arms was like being in a warm tank of water.
Before I knew it, I was submerged up to my neck, unable to breathe.
“If you’d… if you’d let me sit beside you, I’d be grateful.”
I’m not going anywhere, so please, just let me go — that was what I was pleading for.
But his arms bound me more leisurely and more certainly than before. The pain of my organs being pushed upward made me grab onto his arm.
Don’t fight it.
His response was simple.
The more I struggled, the more he compressed and dug in. Like a snare trap.
What did my boss say again?
That difficult customers turn into pushovers if you handle them gently?
He’d added something about watching out for crazy bastards after that, but… for now, let’s try soothing him.
My whole body trembled with pain, but I didn’t let it show and gently stroked his arm.
Easy, now.
“It’s just… my arm hurts. If you could loosen it just a little…”
“…Does it hurt?”
A reaction.
“Yes. It does.”
Surprisingly, the hand that had been threaded through me like a needle slowly unraveled.
Just going by his behavior alone, I’d been on the fence — but thank god he turns out to be a pushover you can coax and manage, the endearing kind of difficult customer.
With him loosening his arm a little, I was able to peel my chest away from his.
“You’re hot.”
The man’s voice was still low and composed.
“…I think I’m coming down with a cold. I’m worried you might catch it.”
What I actually wanted to say was something else. That I wanted to get off his lap.
I was drawing breath to say exactly that — when he suddenly grabbed my chin and pressed his lips over mine.
The breath I’d been carefully letting out cut off again.
I opened my eyes wide once, then scrunched my brow. It was unpleasant enough that my first kiss at twenty-nine was happening like this — but it was also just rough enough to be genuinely painful.
He sucked at the root of my tongue hard enough to hurt, and bit down as though revealing his violent nature. I couldn’t tell if what was sliding down my throat was saliva or blood.
My head knew I couldn’t refuse him — but the kiss was swallowing me whole, and without thinking, I pressed my hands against his shoulders and pushed. He grabbed my wrists, though, and pushed back harder, deeper, more relentlessly.
Fuck, how far is he going to—
He was stimulating deep into my throat, and with each wave of breath I couldn’t gather my senses. He’d already laid me down on the sofa. The moment my back touched it, my body nearly lurched upright on instinct — but he wrapped around my waist and the nape of my neck, locking me in.
Pinned beneath his heavy weight, restrained, receiving a kiss that bordered on violence — when my body, pushed past its limit, began to thrash, his lips finally broke away.
“Haah—!”
I turned my head to the side and breathed through the ache constricting my chest.
Just when I thought it was finally over, the man grabbed my face as it turned away — as if to crush even that relief. The lips approached again, and I tried to twist my head away to somehow escape, but he wouldn’t let go.
When his tongue licked at my lips and I didn’t open my mouth, he bit them apart.
He came inside, stirring, grinding around, sucking deep. His hand swept through my hair. Groping as though trying to pull away the mask that was in the way.
“……!”
I grabbed his arm in surprise.
“No— no, please.”
If he forced it, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Even so, I fought with everything I had. I didn’t know. It would’ve been fine to just show him my ugly face and kill his appetite — but showing my face felt like it would only make things more dangerous. Was it because I was afraid he’d pulverize my face if he was disgusted?
“…I’m sorry.”
“…….”
Please, just say something.
The space around us was filled with nothing but the sound of my ragged breathing.
My vision was spinning, the air leaving my mouth was scorching hot, my mind was in chaos.
And through all of that, the man just kept his mouth shut and looked down at me — it was driving me insane.
The man eased the tension from his fingertips.
“……!”
Just the fact that he’d let me go sent a wave of relief washing over me. He drew his arm back and shifted slightly away from me. I used that gap to push myself upright. I thought maybe now I could finally sit properly — and then.
He tugged down my collar and bit down. Right on the exact same spot he’d bitten yesterday.
“……!!”
My body trembled violently from the layered pain. He’d gone ahead and left another mark on my body. As though staking his claim over me — blood seeped from the bite mark pressed into the nape of my neck.
When he pulled his mouth away, he checked the mark again with his fingers, lifting the collar to look. Then, as if satisfied, a deep curve drew itself at the corner of his lips.
For a moment — about one second — I considered biting him back.
I grabbed my burning shoulder and looked at him.
I was probably glaring.
The man moved slowly, like a well-fed beast. He kept me at his side and poured liquor into the glass on the table. I looked at the golden liquid — which I now knew all too well how strong it was — and exhaled a quiet sigh inwardly. He was probably telling me to drink it, just like the blonde had.
Still, I took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t poured it to the brim the way he had before, and reached for the glass in front of me.
But before my hand even touched it, the man picked it up and drank it himself.
“Oh.”
My directionless hand wandered for a moment, and then — hit by a belated wave of embarrassment — I quietly pulled it back. I’d nearly drunk a client’s liquor. Mortified, I couldn’t lift my face — and then something slipped smoothly into my mouth.
The chocolate the man fed me with his index finger carried a quiet, gentle bitterness and sweetness at the same time. I looked up at him.
The man asked.
“Don’t like it?”
“…No. It’s good.”
At my answer, the man gave a small nod, then picked up another small unwrapped piece of chocolate and held it out. Caught off guard, I opened my mouth — and the chocolate slipped inside again.
