One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 12.1

Wooyoon, released from Pilsung’s embrace, pouted. The gangster, who had spouted on about the duties and responsibilities of a boyfriend, seemed to have forgotten his own words.

Pilsung, oblivious, ruffled Wooyoon’s hair and turned to leave.

“Pilsung…”

Pilsung stopped at the door and looked back.

“Come back quickly.”

He grinned, patted Wooyoon’s cheek, and left. Wooyoon watched the door close, then ran to Pilsung’s bed and flopped onto his stomach, nuzzling his face into the pillow. Having someone to wait for again felt both comforting and unsettling.

I already feel empty… and I miss him.

He knew how dull, insignificant, and lonely his life was without Pilsung. He couldn’t wait for morning.

Chungman Oh, an army veteran, was a man who claimed he could even catch ghosts. In his youth, he’d been a man of authority, proudly wearing armbands and barking orders. Even in his old age, he remained proud of his life, believing he’d contributed to the very foundation of South Korea.

So, to Chungman, the police releasing the Omega “gold digger” who’d assaulted him without punishment, without even an apology, was an unforgivable offense.

“I accuse Chief Goseok of the Gomun Police Station of violating victims’ rights!” he shouted into a megaphone, holding up a sketchbook hanging from his neck. Passersby, on their way home from work, ignored his one-man protest in his hospital gown.

He raised the sketchbook higher, his face red with anger. “South Korea, a nation rotten with mutants! Guarantee the safety of Betas! Guarantee it!”

His protest, which had begun with his outrage over the Omega’s unjust release from custody, had escalated into a call for the expulsion of all designated individuals. He chanted slogans he’d often shouted at the weekly anti-designation protests.

“Recognize the uniqueness of Betas! Recognize…!”

A screech of tires echoed through the street. A black van came to a sudden stop in front of the station. The doors flew open, and several large Alphas emerged, dragging Chungman into the van within seconds. They sped off.

Officer Han, stepping out of the station with his coffee, clicked his tongue at the abandoned protest materials and one of Chungman’s slippers.

“Ha… so this is how the Chief and the Captain make use of those Alpha gangster bastards…” he muttered, shaking his head before going back inside.

The van quickly turned onto the main road. Inside, Chungman, his arms restrained by burly Alphas, thrashed his legs.

“Let go of me! Do you know who I am? You Alpha scum! How dare you touch a Beta?!”

He was fuming, but the moment he saw the face sitting across from him, he flinched. He quickly recovered and sneered, trying to mask his fear.

“You! You’re that Omega gold digger’s pimp, aren’t—!”

Pilsung slapped him hard across the face, leaning forward, his brow furrowed in anger.

“You knew he was mine, and you still laid a hand on him?”

“Ow… ow…”

Chungman whimpered, his lip bleeding. Pilsung stared at him, then slapped him again, on the other cheek. This time, Chungman’s head snapped to the side.

“I was thinking of visiting you at the hospital, but I heard you were at the station?”

“Ow… I’m dying…”

“We’re on a tight schedule. Let’s make this quick.”

“You should’ve never let those Omega siblings into your house! That little Omega gold digger devou—!”

Pilsung’s fist slammed into Chungman’s jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. This time, there were no whimpers, only blood pouring from his mouth and nose. Broken teeth and bloody saliva choked him.

Pilsung wiped his fist on the seat and turned to Gidong. “Make sure he can’t talk when we get there. Then his fingers… ah, did you get his wife’s consent?”

“Yes. The guys got it this morning.”

Pilsung turned to Chungman, who was still dazed, and explained, “Your wife seemed nice. She said you beat her regularly, you asshole.”

“Ugh…”

“Be grateful she asked us to spare your life. Your disability and insurance money will go to her. You’ll eat when she feeds you, and you’ll get what you deserve.”

He slapped Chungman one last time and checked his phone. According to the police chief, the rival gang was holding a business presentation at a hotel in Yongsan. The late hour suggested it was a cover for some kind of scam. Baek Pilsung’s crew had been tasked with disrupting it.

He was pressed for time. He needed to finish this and get to the hotel. He looked out the window, listening to Chungman’s groans. Darkness had fallen quickly.

At the “Chunsegae Medical Clinic,” the examination room was overflowing with groaning Alphas. Injured men, some carrying even more seriously wounded comrades, stumbled in endlessly. Dr. Chunse Kim rushed around, barely having time to push his sliding glasses back up his nose. Despite all the clinic’s nurses being on duty, they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients. No sooner had Dr. Kim finished stitching one wound than another patient would stagger in, clutching a bleeding stomach and screaming.

Those too badly injured for the clinic were sent to the nearby university hospital. The hospital initially resisted admitting unidentified Alpha convicts, but Dr. Kim knew they wouldn’t turn away dying patients, regardless of their policies or potential legal ramifications.

The emergency treatment of Baek Pilsung’s crew, who’d apparently been involved in a massive brawl, finally ended around five in the morning. The examination room, littered with bloody gauze and empty IV bags, was finally empty, the overflow of patients who had been lying in the hallway now gone.

Dr. Kim, exhausted, collapsed into a chair, surveying the chaotic scene. He let out a long sigh and finally pushed his glasses back up his nose, turning to look at Pilsung.

“Are you alright?”

Pilsung, as if deeming the question unworthy of a response, simply adjusted his shirt sleeves, which he’d rolled up while assisting the doctor.

“Are you sure you’re not broken or stabbed anywhere?”

“Seriously… Do I still look like a street urchin to you?”

Who would dare stab Baek Pilsung, the notorious fighter? They’d be broken before they even got close.

Pilsung frowned, picking at a bloodstain on his shirt. “When I had that pheromone test a few years ago…”

Dr. Kim’s eyes widened. Pilsung never spoke about designations or pheromones. The test two years ago had only happened because of Dr. Kim’s insistence and threats. Worried that Pilsung’s reckless consumption of his homemade suppressants would kill him, he’d threatened to shut down the clinic if Pilsung refused. Knowing the clinic was a lifeline for designated individuals who often struggled to access medical care, Pilsung, stubborn as he was, had relented.

Surprised that Pilsung had brought it up, Dr. Kim waited to see what he would say next.

“You know… how my pheromone levels were low? Is there a way… to smell other people’s pheromones while keeping mine suppressed?”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I mean, I don’t emit pheromones, but can I still smell other people’s… never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Pilsung brushed off his clothes irritably and put on his jacket. Dr. Kim frowned. “Let’s be clear. Your pheromone levels weren’t low, they were undetectable.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Pilsung brushed him off, but Dr. Kim continued, “Do you understand what that means? You were born an Alpha, so you have the temperament and the physique, but your ability to communicate through pheromones is zero. You have no signal system, and you want to read other people’s pheromones? Seriously?”

“I was just curious.”

“Instead of worrying about other people’s pheromones, worry about yourself. Worry about your reproductive abilities, which are also zero, just like your pheromone levels…”

“Fuck, you old man, don’t be so disgusting…!”

“If you’re asking because of him, then listen.” Dr. Kim cut him off. “I heard from Gidong that you’re living together now.”

Pilsung’s face hardened, and he fell silent. Dr. Kim, his gaze now fixed ahead, spoke softly. “Unless you stop taking those pills, accept that you’re an Alpha, and live as one, don’t even think about doing anything stupid.”

“…”

“You can’t deny your designation and then act like an Alpha when it suits you.”

“Fuck, I wouldn’t. Who would do that?”

Pilsung’s face contorted in a grimace. He knew it was foolish, just as Dr. Kim had said, but he’d thought about it, about smelling Wooyoon’s scent while holding him.

Could he experience Nam Wooyoon without revealing he was an Alpha?

He scowled, trying to hide his embarrassment, but Dr. Kim seemed to see right through him.

“If you’re going to make a big decision like that, about denying your true nature or returning to life as an Alpha, the reason has to be for yourself.”

“…”

“Not because of him, not for him. That’s just an excuse. If you’re not honest with yourself, you’re only hurting him. You need to stand on your own two feet before you can take responsibility for someone else.”

“You’re really dragging this out. I’m bored.”

Pilsung turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Thanks for taking care of my guys. I’ll send cash from the office later. And…”

“…”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going back to being an Alpha.”

He left the clinic and strode towards his car, slamming the door shut hard enough to shake the vehicle. Instead of starting the car, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest.

You need to stand on your own two feet before you can take responsibility for someone else.

He pressed his lips together, a deep sigh escaping his chest. He opened his eyes and buckled his seatbelt, checking the time on the dashboard screen. Would Wooyoon still be asleep?

“Nam Wooyoon… Nam Wooyoon… Nam Wooyoon…”

He muttered Wooyoon’s name, a habit he’d developed, and turned the steering wheel.

He parked in front of the apartment building and stood before the closed door, hiding the bloodstain on his shirt with one hand as he punched in the code.

Assuming Wooyoon would be asleep at this hour, he checked the large bed in the living room first. But Wooyoon wasn’t there. His shoes were by the door, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He scanned the empty living room, then crouched down to look under the bed and the low table. Even for someone as small as Nam Wooyoon, those weren’t viable hiding spots.

“Nam Wooyoon.”

His voice was laced with anxiety. He checked the dark bathroom, then threw open the remaining door.

“Woo…”

Wooyoon was asleep, curled up beneath the clothes rack where Pilsung’s shirts and jackets hung. He was clutching Pilsung’s pillow to his chest.

Pilsung entered the closet quietly, careful not to wake him, and lay down beside him.

He gazed at Wooyoon’s peaceful face, only his closed eyes visible above the pillow. His gaze traced the curve of his eyebrows, visible beneath his messy bangs, his slightly puffy eyelids, his long eyelashes, and the bridge of his nose.

He rested his head on his arm, his gaze lingering on Wooyoon’s face. He moved closer, wrapping his arm around Wooyoon’s still body, ignoring the clothes hanging from the rack, his hand gently stroking his back.

If you’re not honest with yourself, you’re only hurting him.

The old man was wrong. It would be more devastating for Nam Wooyoon to know that Baek Pilsung was an Alpha.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips against Wooyoon’s warm forehead.

Wooyoon, who had been dreaming of being dragged through the bushes, bound and gagged, finally opened his eyes at the sound of a voice whispering, “Sleep more…” He was disoriented. He’d fallen asleep in Pilsung’s closet, but now he was in the bed in the living room. Not only that, but Pilsung, who’d left for his “cleaning” job, was back, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Wooyoon, fast asleep.

He’d waited all night. If Pilsung had come back, he should have woken him up immediately, not slept like this…

He pouted and tried to wriggle free from Pilsung’s embrace. He pushed against Pilsung’s chest with both hands, but the large body, clad only in drawers, only tightened its hold. Pilsung was clearly awake but pretending to be asleep.

“I’m uncomfortable. You’re heavy.”

“Endure the weight of your boyfriend,” Pilsung mumbled, still half-asleep. Wooyoon frowned at the lame joke and, giving up on escaping, voiced his complaint.

“I’m hungry. I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“What? Why?”

Pilsung, who had seemed immovable, suddenly sat up. He’d always been obsessed with food, even before they started dating. Wooyoon sat up, freed from Pilsung’s embrace, and looked at the back of his messy hair. “I didn’t have any money.”

“What the fuck…? Didn’t I leave you money?”

“No.”

“Damn it! That son of a bitch!”

Pilsung pounded his fist on the bed, cursing at someone, or perhaps no one in particular. He finally calmed down and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Wooyoon.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Let’s eat. What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”

Wooyoon blinked his slightly puffy eyes and asked softly, “Can I… have something expensive?”

Pilsung stared at the pizza box with the words “Best Doremi Pizza” printed on it, speechless. He’d been buying Wooyoon meals that cost several times more than this, and after requesting something “expensive,” he’d chosen a single pizza? He could have had something better.

“Is it good?”

“Yes! It’s delicious, Pilsung.”

Wooyoon grinned, his cheeks bulging as he stuffed his mouth with pizza, careful not to break the string of cheese. This pizza, delivered fresh from a pizzeria, was completely different from the frozen ones from the convenience store. And Pilsung had even splurged on the cheese crust option.

Pilsung, sitting across from him at the low table, pulled out a cigarette, then put it back, his gaze fixed on Wooyoon.

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon.”

“Yeah?”

He leaned closer to Wooyoon, his chin resting on his hand as he fiddled with the lighter.

“Come to the office with me from tomorrow.”

“…”

“We’ll collect payments together. I can’t take you to the… work sites, though.”

He hadn’t planned on revealing the details of his work to Wooyoon, but he felt better having him close. He was worried about leaving Wooyoon alone at home. Seeing him sleeping alone earlier had made him feel like he was no different from Heejae Nam.

He felt bad for Wooyoon, waiting for him all day. But he couldn’t let Wooyoon find another job. The thought of Wooyoon working somewhere out of his sight, vulnerable to another attack, made him anxious. He’d been so careful, even having people watch over him, and yet…

And this was also his way of defying Dr. Kim.

Why can’t Baek Pilsung take care of Nam Wooyoon? Fuck that. He’d keep Wooyoon by his side 24/7 and take care of him. He’d make sure nothing bad happened, that Wooyoon was well-fed, well-rested, and happy.

He was determined, but Wooyoon seemed to have misunderstood. He put down his pizza slice, wiped his mouth, and asked seriously, “Are you asking me… to become a gangster?”

“Ha… you’re really…”

Pilsung was about to scold him, but he saw a flicker of something that looked like anticipation in Wooyoon’s anxious expression, and he stopped. Wooyoon blushed and fidgeted with the crumpled napkin in his hand.

“I haven’t thought about it… I’m a bit surprised… but I’ll try.”

Pilsung, his mouth slightly open, was about to ask what he meant by “try,” but decided to wait and see what Wooyoon would say next. He leaned back, his arm resting on his raised knee, and watched Wooyoon fidgeting with the napkin.

“I promised… so I’ll try…” Wooyoon said nervously.

“What promise?” Pilsung asked, his gaze fixed on Wooyoon’s slender fingers.

“I promised that I’d still like you… even if you were a really bad gangster.”

“…”

“If I can be with you… I can be a gangster too. I can’t… kill people, of course, but I can run errands or clean…”

Pilsung, who had been listening with a frown and his mouth slightly agape, suddenly burst out laughing. He finally composed himself and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Wooyoon.

“How do you even know about killing people?”

“I know things. I’ve seen it on TV.”

Of course he had. Pilsung chuckled a few more times before his expression turned serious.

“Do you think I’d ask you to do that? What do you take me for?”

Wooyoon stared at him suspiciously. Then why had Pilsung bought him those gangster clothes? He’d assumed the all-black outfits were meant for a new recruit in the Baek Pilsung gang. Now he was confused.

“Want more?” Pilsung asked, putting his cigarette back in the pack and gesturing to the pizza box. Wooyoon shook his head.

“Then let’s get some more sleep. I’m tired.”

He stood up and pulled Wooyoon up with him. “Did you clean all night?” Wooyoon asked as he followed Pilsung to the bed.

“Yeah. There was a lot of trash.”

Pilsung answered curtly and lay down, pulling Wooyoon into his arms just as he had that morning. He tucked Wooyoon’s leg between his own and wrapped his arm around him. Wooyoon, apparently trying to avoid having his face buried in Pilsung’s chest, turned his head away, looking up at him. Pilsung pressed his lips against his forehead, nuzzling his frowning brow.

“Why were you crying?”

Wooyoon opened his eyes slightly, then closed them again, overwhelmed by Pilsung’s close proximity.

He hadn’t expected Pilsung to know that he’d cried himself to sleep. He couldn’t tell if Pilsung was perceptive or just oblivious. Sometimes he seemed clueless, saying and doing strange things, but other times, he’d surprise Wooyoon by anticipating his needs, like the bag or the medicine.

He glanced at Pilsung, waiting for his answer, then closed his eyes again. His heart was pounding, making it hard to speak.

He had cried a lot. Not immediately after Pilsung left, though. He’d watched some TV, then remembered Pilsung’s words about getting dinner. He’d wanted to ask Pilsung what to do, but since Pilsung couldn’t answer his phone, he’d gone to bed hungry.

Exhausted from running around all day dealing with paperwork and shopping, he’d fallen asleep. When he woke up, it was still hours before Pilsung was due back.

As he sat alone, waiting, his thoughts spiraled. He wondered if Baek Pilsung would ever return, the same anxiety he’d felt at the police station creeping back in. To distract himself, he’d taken the underwear he hadn’t yet given to Pilsung and started hand-washing it in the bathroom.

I should wash it so he can wear it right away when he gets back.

It had started with good intentions, but as he lathered the underwear, he’d burst into tears. He was upset and hurt that Pilsung had left him alone to go to work, especially when he’d been planning to give him his gift over dinner. He wrung out the underwear and hung it up to dry, then went to the closet, buried his face in Pilsung’s clothes, and cried some more.

He felt embarrassed that Pilsung had seen through his childish need for constant reassurance, his loneliness during the long night. He’d been trying to play it cool, pretending not to care, but Pilsung’s silence had made him open his eyes.

Pilsung had apparently fallen asleep, exhausted from his all-night cleaning. Wooyoon gazed at his sleeping face and softly touched his chin with his lips. Pilsung sighed in his sleep, patted Wooyoon’s back a couple of times, and then stilled again.

Wooyoon watched him, fascinated, then whispered, “I like you…”

He snuggled closer, nuzzling his head against Pilsung’s warm skin. The hurt and longing that had kept him awake all night had dissipated. He closed his eyes, nestled against Pilsung, and wondered how much more he’d have to like him for the gnawing anxiety in his chest to disappear completely.

Gidong, arriving at the apartment to pick up Pilsung, stretched his wrist, which he’d injured during the previous night’s brawl, and enjoyed the unexpected lingerie show. Pilsung, who had been pacing in front of Wooyoon, who was sitting on the bed, suddenly stopped, spread his legs, and grabbed his butt, the red drawers straining against his glutes.

“You underestimated your boyfriend.”

“These are… the largest size they had… for Betas.”

Wooyoon, his head turned slightly to the side, glanced down at Pilsung’s lower body. Pilsung’s cock, peeking out from beneath the leg of his drawers, seemed to be complaining about the tight fit.

Wooyoon, glancing at his second, slightly wilted Pilsung, thought the problem wasn’t just the size of his cock, but Pilsung’s overall physique. He was taller and broader than most of the other Alphas at the office, his large frame packed with thick muscles. Beta underwear was never going to fit.

“I already washed them… so I can’t exchange them…” he sighed, looking at the underwear that was destined for the trash. He wondered if he could use it as a rag or to polish Pilsung’s shoes, then Pilsung exclaimed,

“Just wear them!”

“They don’t fit! You’ll be uncomfortable…”

“A gangster who can endure a knife to the gut can’t handle tight underwear?” Pilsung scoffed. Wooyoon wasn’t sure how being stabbed and wearing ill-fitting underwear were comparable, but he was secretly pleased that Pilsung didn’t seem to mind. He was also grateful that Pilsung liked his first gift, despite its flaws.

Gidong watched them, amused, his gaze shifting between his boss’s impressive rear view and Wooyoon, who was sitting on the bed, swinging his legs. He was already looking forward to getting off work, even though he’d just arrived at the office.

Pilsung, who’d boasted about a gangster’s endurance on the way to the office, now kept adjusting his crotch, cursing under his breath with every step. He’d repeatedly tug and adjust something inside his pants, his face contorted in a grimace.

“You’re here!”

The men guarding the entrance of the building greeted Pilsung loudly, then exchanged knowing glances with each other, their eyes fixed on their boss and Wooyoon. They were about to whistle and make suggestive comments, but Gidong stopped them.

“Don’t push it. The boss is in a bad mood today.”

The men quieted down. As they followed Pilsung and Gidong up to the office, Wooyoon noticed that almost every man they passed was sporting some kind of bandage. Some had band-aids on their faces, others wore casts, including Gidong.

He glanced at Pilsung’s back, slowed down, and whispered to Gidong, “Um… how did you get hurt?”

Gidong, after a moment’s hesitation, replied casually, “I pulled a muscle playing Go-Stop.”

“Oh…”

Wooyoon felt a pang of disappointment, realizing that Gidong, like Baek Pilsung, thought he was an idiot. Just then, Pilsung grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“What are you whispering about?”

He glanced at Gidong over Wooyoon’s head as Wooyoon quickly shook his head, then intertwined his fingers with Wooyoon’s, his hand sliding down from his arm. Gidong felt a twinge of resentment at being brushed off like this. His love-struck boss seemed to have forgotten all his years of loyalty. He’d often found himself in awkward situations, mediating their frequent arguments, always hoping Pilsung’s first love would work out. It seemed it was all for nothing.

He sulked, his lip jutting out. Pilsung, who usually would have told him to toughen up, simply led Wooyoon into the office. He was even more overprotective than when he’d brought a heat-stricken bird to the office and cared for it for half a day before taking it to a wildlife rescue center.

Gidong, trying to follow them, bumped his head against the locked door. He rubbed his forehead, which was already turning red, and knocked.

“Boss! The door’s locked!”

As soon as Pilsung pushed Wooyoon onto the leather sofa, he kissed him, his tongue greedily lapping at the soft flesh inside Wooyoon’s mouth. Wooyoon pushed against Pilsung’s chest, hearing the door rattle, but the heavy body on top of him didn’t budge, as unyielding as the door Gidong was shaking.

Pilsung lifted his head, his tongue probing the underside of Wooyoon’s resisting tongue, his lower body still grinding against Wooyoon’s. He looked at the door.

“Boss! Aren’t you going to collect payments?”

“Ha… fuck… I’ll be down in ten minutes!”

He heard grumbling from outside, then silence. He looked down at Wooyoon, who was squirming beneath him, trying to sit up. The sound of Wooyoon’s shorts rubbing against the leather sofa was strangely arousing.

“Ugh, you’re heavy… there are people outside…”

Pilsung licked the skin beneath Wooyoon’s chin, his voice low and playful. “Show me your cock. Your underwear’s too tight, Mr. Wooyoon.”

“!”

The endearment sent a shiver down Wooyoon’s spine. He blushed and lowered his head, which he’d been craning upwards.

“I… told you… not to wear them…”

Pilsung cupped his face and kissed him, effectively silencing him. Wooyoon reached down and fumbled with Pilsung’s belt buckle.

In the past, he would have given Pilsung an earful for acting like this in public, but now, strangely, he wasn’t angry. He was just as aroused as Pilsung. It had been three days of constant sex, day and night, and yet he still felt a pull in his lower abdomen, his legs restless. He’d never known he had such a strong sex drive. Maybe it was contagious.

Impatient, Pilsung pulled down his pants and underwear and placed his already hard cock in Wooyoon’s hand. “Mr. Nam, ten minutes, please.”

He busied himself kissing Wooyoon’s warm cheeks and neck, licking his earlobe, nibbling on his smooth jaw. He found Wooyoon’s attempts to avoid his kisses endearing, his awkward hand movements as he stroked Pilsung’s cock clumsy but eager. He was still a novice, but he seemed to know where and how to touch, probably from their recent experiences.

He was touched that Nam Wooyoon, who used to gag at the mere thought of kissing, was now obediently stroking him, but at this pace, they wouldn’t finish in ten minutes. He pulled Wooyoon up and stood in front of him, placing one foot on the sofa, the polished black leather of his shoe creasing the leather beneath.

“Kiss me.”

He held his half-hard cock towards Wooyoon, who stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Kiss my dick.”

Wooyoon fidgeted, his hands clasped over his aroused crotch beneath his shorts, then stared at the thick cock before him. His heart pounded in his chest, as if intimidated by the imposing sight of Baek Pilsung’s second self. He swallowed hard.

He stared at the cock peeking out from beneath Pilsung’s unbuttoned pants and red drawers, then closed his eyes, seemingly having made up his mind. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and guided the tip to his parted lips. His long eyelashes fluttered as he took the salty glans into his mouth.

“Ha… fuck…”

Pilsung watched him, his breath catching in his throat. He’d asked for a kiss, afraid that Wooyoon would freak out if he asked for a blowjob, and now Wooyoon was actually sucking on his cock, his tongue swirling around the tip as if kissing it. The cute little thing was always doing the most unexpected things. He was inexperienced, having missed out on so much in life due to his poverty and isolation. Pilsung couldn’t help but find his naivete endearing. He was so precious and fragile.

“Ha…”

Pilsung ran a hand through Wooyoon’s bangs, revealing his furrowed brow. He gently massaged the crease between his eyebrows with his thumb.

“Nam Wooyoon, take more. You won’t make me cum in ten minutes like this.”

He could have forced his cock deeper into Wooyoon’s mouth, but he didn’t want to.

He patted Wooyoon’s cheek, signaling him to stop. Wooyoon pulled away from his cock and scratched his forehead, avoiding Pilsung’s gaze.

“I… I can’t do it…”

“Is it hard?”

Pilsung touched his saliva-coated tip, then knelt before Wooyoon without hesitation. Wooyoon was always amazed by how easily Pilsung knelt, even in public. He wasn’t sure if a gangster’s knees should be so flexible. He also wondered if Pilsung’s men would be disappointed.

Pilsung ran his hands up Wooyoon’s thighs, his shorts riding up, then gripped them tightly.

“Watch carefully.”

He moved his hands to Wooyoon’s waist, his fingers digging into his flesh. Wooyoon grabbed his hand as he lifted his shirt, about to pull down his shorts.

“No, wait! I…!”

But his protest was in vain. He couldn’t resist Pilsung’s strength. His ass slid down the leather sofa as his shorts were pulled down, his lower body now exposed to Pilsung’s gaze.

“…You little tease. You sucked me half-heartedly, and now you’re all wet.”

Pilsung gathered Wooyoon’s legs together with one hand and pushed them up, forcing his head back against the sofa. Wooyoon groaned at the awkward position.

He squirmed, embarrassed by his exposed state, then squeezed his eyes shut.

“Stop… teasing me…” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on his dangling shoelaces. He was mortified by how easily he got aroused, his underwear already damp. He also felt a twinge of resentment towards Pilsung, who seemed to think Wooyoon was the only pervert, moaning and groaning loudly whenever he sucked him off.

But he wasn’t the only one feeling resentful.

“Nam Wooyoon. Why would I tease you?” Pilsung asked, his voice laced with indignation. How could he possibly tease Wooyoon when he was so desperate to suck him off that he’d even knelt? He pressed his thumb against the sensitive skin of Wooyoon’s perineum, just above his puckered entrance. The soft flesh yielded easily to his touch. His mouth watered.

He felt like Wooyoon was the one teasing him. Today, yesterday, the day before. He’d been holding back since the moment they met, contenting himself with grinding against Wooyoon, and now Wooyoon was acting coy, his ass practically begging to be eaten. If that wasn’t teasing, then what was?

Fuck, he’s so pretty.

He continued to massage Wooyoon’s perineum, then pressed his lips against the flesh between his buttocks, kissing the damp entrance and tracing it with his finger.

“Mm…”

Wooyoon whimpered, one leg twitching in Pilsung’s grasp. He couldn’t see Wooyoon’s face, his head hidden by his raised thigh, but he could imagine his expression. The thought made his cock throb.

He licked Wooyoon’s perineum, his finger pressing against his tight entrance. His finger slipped inside, coated with Wooyoon’s slick.

“Ah…”

Wooyoon, who had been staring at his dangling shoelaces, his mind focused on the sensations below, squeezed his eyes shut as he realized Pilsung hadn’t used his tongue this time, but his finger.

He knew what this meant. Sex education in middle school hadn’t been explicit, but he’d heard enough from the other boys, their crude jokes and rumors about sex. Even without personal experience, he knew as much as any other boy his age. And based on his limited knowledge, a finger meant… penetration.

…Probably. But here? With Gidong waiting outside?

Wooyoon pondered with his eyes closed. Could penetrative sex really be over in ten minutes? Was that normal? Even when Pilsung was just using his hand, it took much longer…

The entrance, which had been clenching around Pilsung’s finger, relaxed slightly. Pilsung smirked at Wooyoon’s obvious distraction. Look who’s teasing whom.

He moved his finger, stroking the sensitive walls inside Wooyoon. He quickly found the prostate and pressed it gently.

“Ha…!”

Wooyoon gasped, clamping a hand over his mouth. He glanced at the locked door, then bucked as Pilsung’s finger pressed against his prostate again.

“Ha…!”

His body trembled, his back arched. Pilsung, his nose buried between Wooyoon’s tensed thighs, sniffing like a dog searching for a scent, pulled his finger out.

“Don’t cum yet. You need to learn how to suck a cock.”

He spread Wooyoon’s legs wider, his pants still bunched around his knees, and ducked his head between his thighs. He could finally see Wooyoon’s face, his eyes unfocused and wet. Pilsung wrapped his hand around Wooyoon’s hard cock, his gaze fixed on his tear-filled eyes, then licked the underside of his shaft before taking him into his mouth.

The sound of wet flesh being sucked filled the office. Having had some experience now, Wooyoon managed to hold back from coming immediately.

“Mm…”

He swallowed a moan, looking down at Pilsung, whose cheeks were hollowed as he sucked on him. Pilsung’s fierce eyes were filled with lust.

Pilsung angled his head, rubbing the tip against the roof of Wooyoon’s mouth, then thrust his tongue into his cheek, pressing the glans against the soft flesh. Wooyoon moaned and squeezed his thighs around Pilsung’s head, cutting off his air supply.

“Ah… mm…”

“Ha…”

The pressure around his head intensified as Wooyoon neared his climax. Pilsung continued sucking, undeterred by the lack of air.

“Mm…”

He pulled Wooyoon’s cock from his mouth, his gaze fixed on his face, and licked the shaft. Then he pushed two fingers into Wooyoon’s slick entrance.

“Ah! Wait…!”

His thick fingers moved in and out, no longer just stroking the inside but mimicking the thrusts of a cock, brushing against his prostate with each withdrawal.

“Ah!”

Wooyoon forgot to stifle his moans, his hand reaching back to grip the back of the sofa. The sounds of squelching flesh, skin sliding against leather, and Pilsung’s enthusiastic sucking mingled with Wooyoon’s ragged breaths.

“Ah!”

He cried out, his legs stiffening in the air, his shoelaces finally stilling. His body trembled, then the pressure around Pilsung’s head eased.

Pilsung, who had taken Wooyoon’s cock deep into his throat, swallowed his cum and pulled away.

“Ah…”

Wooyoon sighed as Pilsung removed his fingers. Pilsung, unsatisfied, licked the sensitive tip, then kissed it gently.

“Stop… Pilsung, stop…”

Wooyoon, his mind clear again after his orgasm, pushed against Pilsung’s head nestled between his legs. Pilsung reluctantly pulled away, propped himself up on one knee, and held his hard cock towards Wooyoon.

“Did you learn well?” he asked, his ears bright red. Wooyoon wasn’t sure if it was from the friction of Wooyoon’s thighs around his head during the blowjob, or just from arousal, but he found Pilsung’s flushed ears and messy hair endearing. The unfamiliar feeling made his chest flutter.

He wanted to pleasure Pilsung, just as Pilsung had pleasured him. Even the cock he’d once found repulsive now seemed… lovely. Not in a perverse way, but in a… heartfelt way.

He sat up and took Pilsung’s large cock into his mouth, mimicking Pilsung’s actions. The thick, curved cock naturally rubbed against the roof of his mouth with each movement. He occasionally gagged as it hit the back of his throat. Giving a blowjob for the first time was harder than he’d expected.

“Ugh… mm…”

“Ha… your mouth is so soft… fuck… look up at me while you suck.”

Wooyoon, who’d only managed to take half of Pilsung’s cock into his mouth, looked up as instructed. Pilsung stroked his hair, watching his long eyelashes, still clumped together with tears from his earlier orgasm, flutter as he looked up.

“Fuck! Nam Wooyoon, does your boyfriend’s cock taste good? Huh?”

Wooyoon averted his gaze, unsure how to answer. He didn’t want to ruin the moment by admitting he didn’t like the taste, but he also remembered how enthusiastically Pilsung had just sucked him off, like he was savoring a delicious treat. He felt a pang of guilt.

“Can you… open your throat wider?”

“Huh…?”

Wooyoon blinked, his eyes wide with confusion. He didn’t seem to understand. Pilsung cupped his face and tilted his head back, his cock pressing against his open throat.

“Ugh!”

Pilsung felt Wooyoon’s head tremble in his hands.

“Does it hurt? Are you scared? Should I stop?”

Wooyoon, his eyes glistening with arousal, squeezed them shut, a silent plea for Pilsung to continue. Even if he didn’t like the taste, he wanted to see Pilsung enjoy himself. He wanted to fluster and surprise Pilsung, just as Pilsung had done to him. He could endure the gagging; Baek Pilsung was worth it.

It’ll probably go all the way in soon anyway… I can handle this much…

He closed his eyes tightly, his hand reaching out blindly to grip Pilsung’s shirt sleeve. Pilsung slowly pushed past his gag reflex, then thrust his cock all the way down Wooyoon’s throat.

“Ha! Fuck!”

“Ugh!”

“Fuck! Nam Wooyoon! So good!”

The thrusts grew faster. Wooyoon gripped Pilsung’s wrist, his head bobbing with each thrust. He had to hold on tight, or his head would be thrown back, his throat hitting Pilsung’s cock. He closed his eyes tightly as Pilsung’s pubic hair brushed against his nose and cheeks.

“Nam Wooyoon! Fuck! Open your eyes! Look at me!”

He forced his eyes open at Pilsung’s excited command, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Ha… fuck… good? Is it that good? Does it taste good? Huh?”

Pilsung found the sight of Wooyoon’s tearful, bloodshot eyes both pitiful and arousing. He wanted to be closer, deeper inside him.

He wiped Wooyoon’s tears with his thumb and thrust his hips hard.

“I like it too, Nam Wooyoon! I like it so much!”

“Ah…!”

Wooyoon gagged as Pilsung’s cock slid down his throat, then tightened his throat muscles, cutting off Pilsung’s air supply. Pilsung groaned, his voice hoarse.

“Ah…!”

“Ugh!”

The moment Pilsung pulled out, Wooyoon turned his head and coughed, a mixture of saliva and semen spilling from his mouth. Tears streamed down his face, a physiological reaction rather than from sadness. His throat and mouth were numb, and he gasped for air, too overwhelmed to even wipe his chin.

Pilsung, his gaze fixed on Wooyoon, sat down heavily at the table and took a deep breath. Then he reached into his pants and ripped his red drawers, which were bunched around his waist.

The sound of ripping fabric, so similar to what he’d heard just the other day, startled Wooyoon. He turned to look at Pilsung, his first paycheck-bought underwear now torn in half in Pilsung’s hand.

“Hey, come here.”

Pilsung wrapped the torn underwear around his hand like a handkerchief and beckoned him over. Wooyoon, his jaw aching from deepthroating Pilsung’s cock, pressed his lips together, refusing to move. He’d planned on using them as a rag anyway, but the sight of the torn fabric still stung.

“Was it that hard? You did well.”

Misinterpreting Wooyoon’s sullen expression, Pilsung gently wiped his face with the makeshift handkerchief, his voice soft and soothing. He sat next to Wooyoon and licked the tear stains from his cheeks, his hand discreetly tucking his still-hard cock back into his pants before Wooyoon could notice.

He kissed the corners of Wooyoon’s down-turned eyes and whispered, “Your lips are all swollen. You look really sexy right now.”

Wooyoon’s gaze, which had been fixed on the torn underwear, shifted to Pilsung’s crotch. His pants were zipped up, though not buttoned, suggesting he was done.

…He’s not going to… continue? I thought he would… Does that mean next time? When is next time…?

He felt a pang of disappointment, embarrassed by his own assumptions. He glanced at Pilsung’s crotch, trying to gauge his intentions, then pulled up his shorts and underwear. His ass felt slightly sore.

Pilsung watched him silently as he slumped on the sofa, fiddling with his shoelaces, then frowned and scratched his chin.

Is this some kind of permanent heat?

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the nape of Wooyoon’s neck, the pale skin exposed above the collar of his shirt. He felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He knew he had a lot of pent-up desire for Nam Wooyoon, but this was getting ridiculous.

He frowned, kneading his aching crotch, then leaned towards Wooyoon, his nose twitching, instinctively seeking out the pheromone scent he couldn’t smell. Just as his nose was about to brush against the back of Wooyoon’s neck, Wooyoon straightened up.

Crack!

“Ugh!”

“Pilsung!”

Pilsung clutched his nose, his face contorting in pain as his head collided with the back of Wooyoon’s head. He felt like he’d broken his nose, but the impact had effectively killed his boner.

“It’s fine. I’m okay.”

He straightened up, waving his hand dismissively. He found Wooyoon’s worried expression endearing.

“Your boyfriend can handle thi—… what the…?”

A warm liquid gushed from his nose. He looked at his hand, covered in blood, and blinked in disbelief. He hadn’t bled even while beating the crap out of the rival gang bare-handed, and yet he’d gotten a nosebleed from bumping into the back of Nam Wooyoon’s head.

Wooyoon, his eyes filled with tears, jumped up from the sofa while Pilsung sat there in a daze. He flung the office door open and yelled, “Help!” Pilsung, his nose plugged with his shredded red underwear, cursed under his breath as he watched Wooyoon’s frantic back.

“This is so embarrassing…”

“Help!”

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon, come here.”

“Is anyone there? Help!”

“Just come here…”

He was about to get up and drag Wooyoon back when Gidong, hearing the commotion, burst into the office. He stared back and forth between Pilsung, his nose plugged with a familiar pair of underwear, and Wooyoon, his face tear-streaked. He quickly pulled Wooyoon behind him. Pilsung snorted, pulling the underwear away from his nose.

“Choi Gigong, what do you take me for…?”

Blood dripped down his chin. A small voice spoke from behind Gidong.

“It’s my fault… what am I going to do…?”

Gidong finally registered the scent of Wooyoon’s pheromones filling the office. Whatever had happened, it had been consensual. Judging by the scent permeating the office and the faint aroma emanating from Wooyoon, they’d clearly been enjoying themselves, despite the unexpected bloodshed.

As long as it wasn’t a disaster, Gidong didn’t care what had transpired between them. He was simply amused by his boss’s predicament, especially after being ditched just ten minutes earlier.

He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away the strong scent, and chuckled at Pilsung, who was wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“That little…!”

Pilsung grabbed an ashtray from the table and glared at Gidong, who continued to laugh, then ducked behind Wooyoon. Pilsung narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

“Nam Wooyoon, bow your head.”

“My head…? Are you going to… hit me?”

“Fuck!”

Wooyoon, apparently thinking he was about to be punished for causing Pilsung’s nosebleed, clutched his head and trembled. He seemed unsure whether Baek Pilsung would actually hit him.

Pilsung’s anger flared at the sight of Wooyoon cowering behind Gidong, tugging at his shirt. He didn’t care whether Wooyoon trusted him or not, but he didn’t like him clinging to someone else.

Don’t test me.

He put down the bloody ashtray, ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath. “If you two don’t separate in three seconds, Choi Gigong is dead. One.”

Gidong and Wooyoon quickly stepped away from each other and looked down before Pilsung reached “two.”

“Nam Wooyoon, come here.”

Pilsung took another deep breath, threw the blood-soaked piece of underwear on the floor, and cupped Wooyoon’s face in his hands.

“Do you think I’d hit you after I was just kissing and sucking on you?”

“…”

“Blow on it for me.”

“…What?”

“Please…”

His voice, surprisingly gentle for his size, trailed off. He bent down, his face inches from Wooyoon’s.

Wooyoon stared at the face so close to his. The bloodstains on Pilsung’s cheeks made him look even more menacing than usual, but Wooyoon found him endearing. He puckered his lips, about to blow on Pilsung’s injured nose.

Just as he inhaled, Pilsung kissed him. He grinned, revealing his teeth, and chuckled, then ruffled Wooyoon’s hair with his bloody hand and kissed him again, leaving a red smudge on his lips.

Satisfied, Pilsung straightened up. “Let’s go collect some payments!”

He slung his arm around Wooyoon’s shoulders and led him out of the office. As they walked, he touched his sore nose. It didn’t seem broken, but it was probably fractured. That little head was surprisingly dense. Small things were always more compact. He made a mental note not to underestimate Nam Wooyoon’s skull density.

“You’re number one in the Baek Pilsung hierarchy,” he whispered into Wooyoon’s ear, chuckling.

Two weeks had passed since Wooyoon started going to the office with Pilsung. Contrary to his expectations, he hadn’t become a member of the Baek Pilsung gang. His days followed a predictable routine. He’d wake up early, go to the office with Pilsung, greet the men working out, and have breakfast. By lunchtime, Pilsung’s men would leave for their various errands, and Pilsung would go to meetings or travel to Incheon every few days.

For some reason, Pilsung never took Wooyoon to his meetings, work sites, or the Incheon port, leaving Wooyoon to spend his time at the office, bored, just like now.

“I won again. I got pretty good at this while I was living alone.”

Wooyoon smiled, proudly looking at his phone screen, which displayed a large “Win” message. Number puzzle games had been one of his few distractions while waiting for his brother in his cramped little room.

“Want to play Gomoku?”

The man with tattoos covering his arms nodded silently. Wooyoon ran to Pilsung’s desk and grabbed a sheet of A4 paper and a pen from the printer.

Gidong, the only person at the office Wooyoon felt comfortable with, usually accompanied Pilsung, which meant that when Pilsung was out, Gidong was usually out too. The only person Wooyoon could talk to and play with at the office was the man he’d worked with at the supermarket.

He was grateful to the man for taking his side during the incident with Jinwoo and his friends, even if it had been on Pilsung’s orders. He’d warmed up to him quickly.

In the two weeks they’d spent together, Wooyoon had learned the man’s name was Chulhee Park, that he’d become a gangster relatively late in life, at thirty-one, and that he was quiet because he was insecure about his voice. Wooyoon had also learned that Chulhee had been arrested and questioned as a suspect in the supermarket fire, probably because of his fight with Jinwoo. Wooyoon wondered why he hadn’t even been called in for questioning, considering he’d been the main source of conflict at the supermarket.

He was about to draw a grid on the paper when Pilsung walked in, carrying a small box. He placed the custard pudding, which he’d picked up from a famous dessert cafe on his way back from Incheon, on the table and squeezed himself between Chulhee and Wooyoon, who were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Chulhee tactfully moved before Pilsung could sit on him. Pilsung, now snuggled up next to Wooyoon, pointed at the pudding and kissed Wooyoon’s cheek. “Try it. I bought it because it looks like your ass. Damn, that’s hot.”

Wooyoon, mindful of Gidong and Chulhee’s presence, shot a look at Pilsung, who was getting turned on by his own words. Gidong and Chulhee seemed unfazed by their boss’s blatant groping of his crotch.

Wooyoon grabbed Pilsung’s hand, stopping him from fondling himself.

“Pilsung, stop it…”

“Why? Want to touch it yourself?”

Wooyoon frowned, his lips pressed together, ignoring Pilsung’s crude joke.

Lately, Pilsung had been making suggestive comments and touching him constantly, even in public. Wooyoon had often skipped their nightly activities due to exhaustion, but Pilsung made sure to get off at least once or twice a day, either by masturbating or receiving a blowjob from Wooyoon. At first, Wooyoon had been impressed by his stamina, but now he was genuinely worried about Pilsung’s health.

And he was also worried about something else: Pilsung’s refusal to penetrate him. He enjoyed the passionate kisses, the eager sucking on every part of his body, the fingering, but why wouldn’t he take the final step? According to Wooyoon’s limited understanding, penetrative sex was the ultimate expression of intimacy between lovers. He couldn’t understand why Pilsung was holding back.

He sulked, then picked up the pudding. This wasn’t something he could easily discuss with anyone. He took a spoonful, his eyes widening at the sweet, creamy texture melting in his mouth.

“It’s delicious! Try it.”

The delicious pudding had erased his embarrassing worries. He scooped up a large spoonful and offered it to Pilsung, who was grinning, his head propped up on the back of the sofa. Pilsung frowned and shook his head.

“No, thanks. You eat.”

“Just one bite.”

“I’m not hungry. And don’t eat too much. We’re having samgyeopsal later.”

“Oh, right!”

They were having a samgyeopsal party on the rooftop of the apartment building that evening. Pilsung had said it was a way for everyone to boost their stamina and bond. Wooyoon had been looking forward to it, remembering the barbecue party they’d had during their summer vacation. That vacation had been filled with first-time experiences, a precious memory.

He popped the spoonful of pudding into his mouth and grinned, his down-turned eyes crinkling with happiness. Pilsung, watching him, clicked his tongue. He felt a familiar tightening in his lower abdomen.

He reached into his jacket pocket for his pill bottle and swallowed the few remaining pills. He smiled at Wooyoon, who glanced at him at the sound of crunching.

He’d told Wooyoon they were muscle supplements, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the lie. He couldn’t let Wooyoon, who didn’t know he was an Alpha, find out that he was making and taking pheromone-related drugs. That was another reason why he didn’t take Wooyoon to his work sites.

Gidong watched Pilsung putting the empty pill bottle back in his pocket, a worried expression on his face, then shook his head. His boss, who was much older and more experienced, knew how to take care of himself. It would be presumptuous of him to worry.

But the insubordination Gidong had been wary of occurred unexpectedly at the samgyeopsal party.

Pilsung, his appetite gone, sipped his soju and focused on grilling the meat. He’d eaten a few pieces of samgyeopsal wrapped in lettuce by Wooyoon, but he felt nauseous. Wooyoon, on the other hand, ate constantly. He usually had a good appetite for his size, but tonight he was particularly enthusiastic, even drinking half a bottle of soju.

Pilsung kept an eye on Wooyoon while flipping the meat. His face grew increasingly red, and eventually, he stood up, his eyes unfocused, swaying slightly in the center of the low table where the men were seated.

Pilsung banged the tongs against the grill. “Nam Wooyoon! Sit down!”

“Thank you, thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Ha… fuck…”

He watched, dumbfounded, as Wooyoon bowed repeatedly, his hands clasped together in front of his chest, his face full of gratitude, as if he’d just received an award. He was slightly annoyed that Wooyoon was sharing his drunken cuteness with his men, but he found it amusing enough to let it slide.

That was a mistake.

Wooyoon, still bowing, stumbled and sat down heavily next to Gidong. Pilsung, deciding it was time to take him home and put him to bed, was about to leave the grill when it happened.

Wooyoon, grinning drunkenly, grabbed Gidong’s face with both hands and, before anyone could react, lunged forward.

Pilsung’s roar echoed through the night sky as Wooyoon’s mouth opened wide and his teeth sank into Gidong’s lower lip.

“Hey!!!”

“Mmmph!”

Gidong, his hands raised in surrender, tried to protest, but Pilsung, his eyes blazing, was in no mood to listen. He threw the tongs, which spun through the air and landed between Gidong’s legs, sticking into the table like a dart. Wooyoon, his hand on Gidong’s shoulder, continued to chew on his lip.

The men, finally realizing the gravity of the situation, stopped laughing and rushed to restrain Pilsung and Wooyoon. They grabbed Pilsung’s arms, holding him back, while others wrapped their arms around his waist.

“Let go of me!”

“Boss! Calm down! It wasn’t Gidong’s fault!”

While Pilsung struggled against his men, Gidong finally managed to push Wooyoon away, his lip red and swollen. He quickly put on his shoes.

“Boss! I’m innocent!” he yelled, his words slightly slurred, then fled the rooftop. Wooyoon, pushed back by Gidong, landed on the table, staring up at the night sky.

“…”

A slow smile spread across his face. He was fascinated by the sight of stars twinkling in the Seoul night sky. He hadn’t seen them when he’d snuck out of his room while his brother was asleep and sat on the stairs leading up to the street. It was strange. It was the same sky, but why was it different now?

He closed his eyes, seeing thousands of stars behind his eyelids.

Ah, I see. It’s my heart.

It was the same sky, but his heart was different. His heart was at peace, enough to notice the stars. Unlike when he was living alone with his brother, he now had the intimidating but kind men at the office, and Pilsung, who always took his side.

He smiled, his eyes still closed, then suddenly frowned.

I hope this peace lasts. I hope I can keep seeing the stars. I want to be more… intertwined with Baek Pilsung. I don’t want this to break, to end, to be abandoned.

But why wouldn’t Baek Pilsung sleep with him?

The question that had been plaguing him for two weeks resurfaced. He felt a warmth spreading through his chest. Was it the alcohol? Or the stars?

“Nam Wooyoon.”

A shadow fell over his face. He opened his eyes slowly, his gaze traveling up to Pilsung’s face, silhouetted against the starlit sky. He giggled.

Pilsung sighed, his hands on his hips, his face softening. He’d taken care of many small, fragile things in his life. He’d never been able to scold them, no matter what they did – whether they knocked over food bowls, shredded important documents, or gnawed on furniture legs. And Wooyoon was no different.

He flicked Wooyoon’s nose with his finger.

How could he scold something so small and precious? Fuck. Choi Gigong, on the other hand, deserved a good beating.

He scooped Wooyoon up into his arms. Wooyoon giggled and wrapped his legs around Pilsung’s waist, his arms around his neck. He couldn’t scold him in his drunken state, so he lightly swatted his butt. Wooyoon’s hips twitched in response, even in his drunken stupor, and Pilsung, aroused by the involuntary movement, hurried off the rooftop, the jeers of his men, a mixture of concern for Wooyoon and teasing directed at their boss, fading behind them.

He carried Wooyoon down the dark stairs, his arm supporting his butt, peppering his alcohol-scented cheek with kisses.

“Don’t fall asleep. Wash up before you go to bed. Are you listening?”

He reached the fourth floor and opened his apartment door. He carried Wooyoon inside and took him straight to the bathroom, setting him down on the toilet seat. He splashed some cold water on his hands.

“Hey, close your eyes.”

Wooyoon, dazed, obediently closed his eyes. Pilsung cupped his hands, filled them with water, and splashed Wooyoon’s face. His skill in washing Wooyoon’s face without actually touching it was impressive.

Wooyoon’s bangs were now soaked. Pilsung grabbed a towel from the wall, covered Wooyoon’s still-closed eyes with it, and pressed it against his face with his large hands.

“Is biting people your drinking habit?”

He was surprised by his own words, his eyes widening.

“…Oh, shit.”

A forgotten memory surfaced. The day of their first date, Wooyoon, drunk, had bitten and sucked on Pilsung’s lips at the office. It was the same behavior he’d just displayed with Gidong. The realization stung his pride.

He removed the towel and shoved a toothpaste-covered toothbrush into Wooyoon’s mouth, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he brushed his teeth. He’d been waiting for Wooyoon to sober up so he could lecture him, but he decided to let it slide. He’d have to tell his men to keep their mouths shut about it tomorrow.

And Choi Gigong definitely needed a beating.

“Spit.”

Wooyoon, his eyes closed, his mouth open for Pilsung to brush his teeth, stumbled to his feet. He swayed, grabbing the sink for support. Pilsung steadied him, his hand firmly on his lower back, and gently pushed the back of his head down. He rinsed Wooyoon’s mouth, then lifted him into his arms and carried him out of the bathroom.

He must have been really drunk. He was already snoring softly the moment Pilsung laid him down on the bed. Pilsung sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Wooyoon’s stomach, then abruptly stood up.

“Fuck.”

He grabbed his crotch, which had hardened seemingly out of nowhere, and walked back to the bathroom.

Lately, he’d been plagued by constant thoughts of sex, his body reacting even before his mind could catch up. It wasn’t just his desire for Nam Wooyoon; he felt a surge of lust that was hard to control, whether Wooyoon was around or not.

That was why he’d been holding back, resorting to handjobs even though he was desperate to fuck Wooyoon. He was afraid he’d lose control, ravishing Wooyoon like a wild animal. He didn’t want to treat Wooyoon like that, regardless of his own sexual preferences. He’d be gentle with Nam Wooyoon, once his inexplicable lust subsided.