Even screaming under the blanket, the sound still leaked out. Haejun clamped a hand over his mouth and thrashed around like a loach hit with salt. No amount of struggling or kicking at the air could erase what he’d been through from his memory. If anything, it made it sharper. The smell, the texture, the arowana-like slab of flesh roaming his mouth and throat.
As the absurd notion that that thick-bodied arowana was some kind of symbol for a dick became disturbingly convincing, his memory pushed one step further, dragging up how his own body had reacted.
“.......”
Gasping for air, Haejun poked his face out from under the blanket. His forehead, cheeks, and chin were mottled red. He bit down hard on his lower lip, then slammed the back of his head into the poor, innocent pillow over and over.
It was just like last time. Lee Kangjoo didn’t know the meaning of consideration. He’d grabbed Haejun by the hair, snarled that this was all he could do, run his mouth about how it was still lousy, and then ram the head of his cock all the way down Haejun’s throat.
He couldn’t breathe, felt like he was going to throw up, spit streamed down past his chin, and in the end tears and snot poured out too, soaking his cheeks and philtrum. If there’d been a witness, they’d have testified it was a scene of someone being murdered, not anything remotely sexy.
Unfortunately, the only living thing there besides the two of them had been a single fish swimming around in its tank. The desk staff never came back. Neither did the bulky guys in black suits who’d gone to dispose of a man.
“.......”
Haejun pulled back the blanket and looked down. Just recalling it was enough to make the front of his pants bulge. In front of Lee Kangjoo, it had been even worse.
He’d told himself he wouldn’t get hard this time, that he hadn’t even taken his meds today so it would stay calm, and then he’d put Lee Kangjoo’s dick in his mouth. And yet—what a joke. He didn’t need the expensive pills from the urologist at all. Every time that dick clogged his throat and his vision started to spin, his own cock got insanely worked up, dribbling fluid in little spurts.
When Lee Kangjoo finally came on his tongue, when he’d clamped a hand over Haejun’s mouth and ordered him to swallow, his toes had curled at the rush of relief, like finally letting out piss he’d been holding forever. After gulping down the thick load, the front of his pants was pathetically soaked.
He sucked and came again. He got hard while sucking, and came while swallowing cum. This wasn’t something a urologist could fix. This was a psychiatric problem.
There was no god. Or if there was, it definitely hated him. Ever since his mother died when he was five, his life had been nothing but trials—and as if that weren’t enough, it kept piling on every kind of fucked-up ordeal imaginable.
Sniffling, Haejun shoved a hand into his elastic-waist pants. The same hand that had held Lee Kangjoo’s dick. The blue veins and tendons standing out, that late-summer produce look, heavy with flesh and water...
“...Fuck.”
Even a seductive naked woman wouldn’t usually get his lower half moving, but the moment he thought back to that day’s torture, it sprang up eagerly. He shook it a few times and the chalk-white shaft flushed pink, a blush settling over the head.
“Hh, ah, ngh....”
He fondled his smooth, hairless balls too, then used a ring of his fingers to stroke over the protruding crown of the glans, and his hips lifted on their own. He didn’t stop, kept pumping, threw his head back. He hurriedly clamped a hand over the tip, and cum splattered across his palm.
It was noticeably less than what Lee Kangjoo had shot. If that had been a deep valley river, what Haejun spilled was a puddle that’d dry up by sunrise.
His erectile dysfunction was cured. But Haejun couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it. The experience that’d gotten his dick standing again was seriously fucked up.
What do I do now.
How am I supposed to live.
He wiped the cum away with a tissue, wrestling with the wave after wave of self-loathing, when someone started pounding on the door. The boss and the others all had keys and would just let themselves in, and religious recruiters or door-to-door salesmen knocked carefully, so it was neither of those.
No way.
Shaking his head, he held his breath. There was no way they’d come all the way here. He’d deliberately written down a different address—how the hell—
When he pretended not to be home, someone outside started cursing loudly and kicking the door. A moment later, his phone rang by his pillow. Of all times, he’d left the sound on. He scrambled to hit the button, but the obnoxious ringtone had already leaked out the window. Heavy footsteps. A dark shadow loomed beyond the glass.
The man knocked on the window with a thud of his fist.
“Hey, you fucking bastard, I know you’re in there. You gonna open the door or what.”
“.......”
“I’m counting to three. Three, one.”
Didn’t look like a guy with even a shred of patience. Haejun jumped up and opened the window. A rough-looking man with gelled-back hair sneered when he saw him. Typical gangster—irezumi tattoos carved into his neck and arms, a gold chain hanging from his neck.
“Seriously, this piece of shit is slow as fuck, never gets it in one go. You gonna come out or not.”
“How did you—”
“What. Thinking of running?”
If he could run, he would’ve done it ages ago. Knowing damn well Haejun had nowhere to go, the guy was just fucking with him. Haejun lowered his head and muttered flatly.
“...It’s not even the payment date.”
Smack—! °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° The man backhanded the side of Haejun’s head. A sharp ringing filled his ears and his vision went black for a moment.
“Did you grow up without a mom or something, you little shit, no fucking manners. A guest comes over and you don’t even offer a cup of tea. When your old man came begging for money, I at least mixed him a cup of instant coffee.”
Fucking asshole, acting like that’s something to brag about.
“This is the boss’s place. I can’t just let anyone in. I’ll come out.”
Even if it wasn’t his own place, he didn’t want to bring a piece of shit like that inside where he lived. Haejun shuffled out the door.
The man—Choi Manseok—was the owner of a loan shark company, the guy his father had borrowed money from. But the one paying it back was Haejun. Because the collateral was Haejun’s organs. It hadn’t been enough for his father to drug him and steal his seal; he’d even lifted his fingerprints and stamped them on the paperwork.
That was how he’d racked up a debt in the thousands, and then his father had skipped town. If he’d gone to hell, that would’ve been better—more likely he was holed up in some illegal gambling den.
The original debt had ballooned like a mountain under vicious interest rates. Now Haejun could barely keep up with the interest, let alone the principal. And this loan shark was the type who’d squeeze blood and organs out of even dried-up stockfish.
“I’m not running. I said I’ll pay.”
“How are you gonna pay, asshole. I need a concrete plan so I can sleep easy.”
“I’m working hard. I haven’t even been late recently.”
“Work? Selling your dick? Or sucking dick.”
“...Whatever it takes.”
Choi Manseok snickered and looked Haejun up and down. His gaze was filthy. It felt like bugs crawling up Haejun’s ankles. He flinched back. His back hit the wall.
Choi Manseok stepped closer and shoved a hand straight into Haejun’s crotch. Haejun gasped, startled, as the man grabbed his junk hard.
“How long you think you’ll pay off all that debt selling a dick this small. And is there even a bitch who pays to fuck you?”
“Of course there is. Otherwise how would I be paying back the boss’s money.”
“If you switched to this, seems like you’d pay it off faster.”
With his other hand, the man grabbed a fistful of Haejun’s ass. He felt sick, like he was going to vomit. Swallowing back the bile, Haejun put on a grin.
“If my dick stops working, I’ll think about it. Take your hand off. I need that thing for business.”
Even when he’d sucked another host’s dick by choice, even when Lee Kangjoo had yanked him around by the hair, he hadn’t felt this kind of revulsion. Haejun fought like hell not to puke on the loan shark’s face.
Apparently it wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for. Choi Manseok pulled his hand away with a bored expression. Haejun barely had time to relax before the bastard groped along his inner thigh and then squeezed hard. Haejun doubled over with a groan of pain, and only then did Choi Manseok look satisfied.
“Anyway, keep the dates. Don’t get any funny ideas. Unless you want to see your old man’s fingers chopped off.”
He smacked the back of Haejun’s head two or three times with the luxury clutch bag he was carrying, then left through the front gate. Only after the footsteps faded did Haejun lift his bowed head.
“.......”
With a blank expression, he tugged up the hem of his loose shorts. Deep inside his inner thigh, several dark, elongated marks were drawn there. He hadn’t put them there himself.
“Fucking bastard.”
Cursing didn’t make him feel any better. Reality was still pitch-black.
* * *
Seeing Haejun looking like he was about to die, Yohan slammed his spoon down with a sharp clack. Haejun had thought he’d lost his appetite, but the bowl in front of Yohan was spotless, not a single grain of rice left.
“You’re killing my appetite. What’s with that face.”
Haejun pushed the half-eaten bowl of rice toward him. Despite his words, Yohan finished off what Haejun had left in one go.
“Something happen? Why do you look like you stepped in shit?”
