“Dohui.”
When others called his name it sounded familiar and warm, but filtered through Gong Haejin’s tongue, even the meaning felt different. The lilting tone — like calling a pet — wasn’t something he cared for either.
“……Don’t, call me like that. I’m not a dog……”
“What’s wrong with dogs.”
He said it with his cheekbones raised high in a smile. Flawless skin without a single wrinkle — anyone else might call him devastatingly handsome, but not Dohui. He would say it again: to his eyes, the man was nothing more than a devil without horns.
“If you’re a dog, that makes me your owner.”
“……Even if I were a dog……”
“……”
“I’d be picky about my owner.”
Gong Haejin laughed openly. He was growing fonder of him by the moment. By now he should have been completely broken. Given everything that had been done to him, it would have made sense for him to have long abandoned his will — barely scraping by doing what he was told.
And yet, he had only gotten stronger. He glared like he wanted to kill him while still watching for openings, never letting his guard down. Refusing to eat was one such act of defiance. It put him in quite a good mood.
If he had to classify him as an animal, Dohui was less like a dog and more like something feline. The way he kept tabs on his surroundings while still speaking his mind directly was exactly like an untamed stray cat — it brought out a certain competitive instinct. Sharp little thing.
Gong Haejin, who had been quietly studying the hand gripping the t-shirt, asked,
“Does it bother you? Even without pulling at it, it’s long enough to cover everything down there.”
“……”
With nothing but a t-shirt thrown on him, his legs looked like toothpicks. He hadn’t been eating properly for a while now, so it was only natural.
Which was exactly why he’d gone through all that trouble — calling Professor Kwon over, getting him on the IV drip, the whole ordeal. It wasn’t even funny. Regardless of the circumstances, the person who had stolen from him was receiving care instead of punishment.
“Do something a little more pleasing and I might give you actual clothes.”
He even offered that kindly as a hint. But Dohui grimaced and stepped back. Gong Haejin — who had thoroughly taken Dohui apart the evening before — wet his lips.
A body so thin there was barely anything to grab onto. The only things worth looking at were a face too pretty for a man, skin that showed every mark the moment you bit or licked it, and the occasional moan that slipped out.
When his thoughts reached that point, he wanted to grab him by the hair again and drag him back to the bedroom. Or just do it right here. Dohui wouldn’t be able to read those dark intentions, of course.
After getting tangled up with him, he always felt satisfied. Once, twice — he’d assumed that as the count went up, he’d grow bored. Then I’ll throw him away. I’ll have him taken out of my sight. He’d made that clumsy resolution.
But his resolve had become laughable, because Dohui’s body felt like it had been made for him. The sensation of pushing inside him — it was like pieces locking into place perfectly. Something he couldn’t pull himself out of no matter how he tried.
Right now, after exchanging only a few words with Dohui, a strange heat was already stirring in his lower half.
“……I’ll eat something else.”
Before the owner’s permission had been given, Dohui crept over on his own. He opened the refrigerator like it was his own and took out some fruit.
Today there were ripe persimmons. Deep red, gorgeous persimmons. He hadn’t been able to eat them since the start of winter. Tears nearly came, and Dohui bit down on his lip. His lips, chewed raw so many times over, split and bled at the slightest provocation.
Dohui carefully picked up a persimmon and steadied his breathing. The taste of iron rose up in his throat.
The flesh of the persimmon looked so soft. It was just like the ones his grandmother used to set aside for him. He missed her so badly, wanted to see her so badly. A grief that felt like it could break him churned through his chest.
The man wasn’t looking his way. Dohui stole a glance at the back of his head and slipped away. To avoid the horrifying prospect of sitting across from him to eat. He tucked himself into a corner of the sink and dug into the soft flesh with a spoon.
Sweet……
It was so sweet. The taste — like it had been dusted with sugar — opened up something in his chest.
The misery hadn’t even reached its end, yet it was quietly fading away. Over just one persimmon. As if feeding a small flame of hope, Dohui kept scooping until the persimmon was scraped completely clean.
Gong Haejin watched Dohui eat with an unhurried ease. Those small lips were pale. A body that looked like it would just crumple to the floor if you so much as flicked it. And yet he found it pretty. Either his eyes had gone broken, or something else had.
On his third persimmon — barely stopping to breathe — Dohui glanced at him sideways. The angle was nearly a glare, but he didn’t provoke him for no reason.
The phone sitting on the table buzzed.
[Pyo Mingyu]
Gong Haejin clicked his tongue at the three characters and got to his feet.
“Yeah.”
— We caught the driver. Found the goods too.
“That so?”
— It looks like the one named Jinho had coordinated with the club manager. It’s the club where Dohui did his part-time work.
“……”
— Apparently the two of them arranged the driver as well.
“You’re sure?”
— When he saw us, he came along quietly. He’d know Dohui was caught first.
“……”
— The manager handled most of the planning, and the one called Jinho said that as the date drew closer, his departure suddenly got booked. So he put Dohui in as a stand-in. He figured it would actually be fine since he didn’t know anything. President Nam readily handed over the manager too. Told us to handle it ourselves. Said to pass along that as long as the goods are received, that’s all that matters.
Gong Haejin walked over to the sofa and sat, snapping his gaze to the side. At the far end of his line of sight was Dohui. The way he pulled at the front of the t-shirt while the back barely covered his backside was quite endearing. A little more would be nice, but it was his own shirt — unnecessarily long.
Now done eating, he was glancing around the sink. Probably figuring out where to throw away the scraps. What does it even matter. A person locked up, and still minding something as pointless as that.
Watching the two legs carrying Dohui back and forth across those few steps, his mouth ran dry.
“Come here, Dohui.”
Dohui’s shoulders flinched.
“You’d do better to come before I have to say it twice.”
Just then, through the phone, Pyo Mingyu’s low, steady exhale came quietly through.
— Director.
“Don’t drag it out. Say it.”
— Shall I set up a meeting with President Nam. He’ll be waiting to hear from us by now.
“We’ll have to.”
Gong Haejin took a brief moment to appreciate Dohui as he approached. Then, the moment Dohui was close enough to touch, he pulled him in sharply.
Dohui winced and made a sound in his throat. Suddenly sitting on Gong Haejin’s lap, he smelled sweetly of persimmon.
Gong Haejin dragged his broad tongue in a long stroke across Dohui’s cheek.
“Ugh……”
The harder Dohui tried to push away, the tighter he held him. Pulled in little by little like that, Dohui would always give up only at the very last moment.
Today he gave up a little sooner than usual. Seems he’s learned. He was just thinking that when Pyo Mingyu’s voice through the phone suddenly grated on him.
Gong Haejin licked the outer curve of Dohui’s ear. The slender body held in his arms trembled finely. Something so small, and yet it pleased him.
— Director?
“Not now. Stall for a bit.”
— ……Understood. When would you like to begin with the one we brought in?
“Have it ready. I’ll be there shortly.”
He ended the call immediately and set the phone down with a toss. At the sound, Dohui’s eyes drifted over to it instinctively.
“What, you want it?”
Gong Haejin ran his thumb along Dohui’s small Adam’s apple.
“Try asking for it. Say please.“
“……”
“Be as desperate as you can manage.”
Dohui tightened the grip of both hands resting on the man’s shoulders. His voice became a snake, slipping down into his stomach. Impossible to pull out, impossible to spit back up. It coiled itself inside Dohui.
“Ah…… don’t, ugh……”
The thin t-shirt was utterly useless. It rode up and laid bare his soft, unaroused length.
Gong Haejin’s hand closed around it. He worked the smooth flesh — not a single hair — with practiced ease.
Used too many times day after day, the tip was faintly reddened. It caught slightly against his calluses, which only made the friction worse — and somehow more stimulating. The practiced stroke, back and forth, substituting his own hand for what Dohui couldn’t do himself — he was far too skilled at it. He knew exactly where to squeeze, exactly when to rub the head. And the self-loathing that came with his own body surrendering to the pleasure was unbearable.
Dohui moaned in something close to a sob and spilled. The thin, white fluid caught faintly on Gong Haejin’s curled fingers. He’d been made to come so many times the day before that the volume was noticeably reduced.
Gong Haejin studied it for a moment, then stuck out his red tongue and licked it clean.
“Disgustingly thick.”
Then he lowered Dohui down. In front of Dohui on his knees, a zipper came undone. A half-hard length tapped against his cheek.
Added on top of cheeks already reddened from frequent hits — the humiliation only deepened, and Dohui felt the full weight of the degradation.
Looking down at that unexpectedly young face, he found himself questioning his age all over again. He’d looked at the ID with that same face on it any number of times, so there was no room for error. And yet a strange, perverse guilt came surging in like a tide.
“What. You don’t want to suck it now?”
“……And if I said I don’t.”
