One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 7.1

Before the sun grew too hot, Gidong squatted in front of the basement window early in the morning, holding plastic bags and starting his menu briefing.

“The big one’s braised short ribs, and the small one’s grilled deodeok. The ribs are steamed in a pot until the meat’s tender and delicious. The deodeok’s grilled over charcoal—not lighter fluid, real charcoal—I saw it with my own eyes, and damn, the smoky flavor’s to die for.”

Finishing his briefing, Gidong reached through the window to hand over the bags of food. The window was small and too low to see Wooyoon’s face, but judging by how he hugged the food with both arms, it didn’t seem like he’d leave or toss it.

“Enjoy it and have a great day!”

“Uh…”

“Yes, go ahead.”

Gidong quietly waited as Wooyoon hesitated, fiddling with the bags in his arms. Soon, a small voice drifted out from inside the window.

“Baek Pilsung…”

“Huh? I didn’t catch that. Again…”

“Take care.”

Wooyoon gave a slight bow toward Gidong and closed the basement window, stuffy with morning humidity since no breeze could get in. Clutching the food Pilsung had sent, Wooyoon paced the room, only slumping down once he confirmed Gidong’s shoe steps had faded from the window.

“…….”

Setting down the plastic bags wafting a sweet yet subtle aroma, he pulled his phone from his shorts pocket. Hoping for a missed call he hadn’t noticed, he stared hard at the screen, but the phone Pilsung had bought him remained silent as ever. It’d been four days now.

Opening the lid of the braised ribs from the bag, Wooyoon recalled Pilsung storming out of the tiny room four days ago.

He must’ve been upset. Even if Pilsung’s dick, different from mine, felt a bit gross, I shouldn’t have acted like that. I shouldn’t have kicked him out like that…

Holding a rib bone between his thumb and middle finger, Wooyoon took a bite of the steaming meat. As Gidong said, it was so tender he didn’t need to tear it with his front teeth—it slid right into his mouth. The sweet-spicy seasoning with a hint of chili boosted the flavor, and the well-cooked meat slid down his throat with barely a chew.

Biting his glossy, oil-slicked lower lip, Wooyoon paused mid-bite, glanced at the silent phone screen, and blinked dejectedly.

Thinking back, I was too harsh on Pilsung, who’s been trying to treat me well because he likes me. Plus, I feel bad about the landlord splashing him with water.

It was just a hunch, so he couldn’t confront the landlord about it…

A few days ago, Pilsung’s grotesque dick had killed his appetite, but now guilt was doing the job. Staring at the phone screen with no calls, Wooyoon, though not hungry, brought the half-eaten rib back to his mouth. He couldn’t waste precious food just because he had no appetite.

Unloading goods from the refrigerated truck and prepping for opening had already left him drenched in sweat. Wooyoon tried drying his soaked t-shirt under the vest in front of the AC, but the manager kept calling for him, leaving no moment to rest.

Following the manager’s orders, Wooyoon stocked the outdoor display with heavy essentials like shampoo and detergent, thinking he was glad he’d eaten the hearty ribs that morning.

Thinking of the ribs naturally brought Pilsung to mind. Without realizing it, Wooyoon’s eyes darted around, searching for the alpha worker who’d come to the mart in Pilsung’s place. The alpha, clearly one of Pilsung’s crew, flaunted tattooed forearms as he hauled fruit crates with the fruit section guys.

…Should I ask? But… what would I even say?

Wooyoon paused stocking, frowning.

Is Baek Pilsung doing okay? Was he hurt a lot? Is he mad? How’s he seem?

Lost in thought, Wooyoon twitched his lips discontentedly. He never used to care about a thug’s feelings, but since that day had been kinda fun, pointless guilt crept in.

If he’s mad at me, he could just not send food—making me feel worse by sending it every morning…

“Young and strong, huh? Standing there holding heavy stuff like it’s nothing?”

The sharp voice belonged to the manager. Wooyoon, caught daydreaming with a bulk detergent jug, nodded a greeting.

“All that fried egg at lunch giving you energy? Finish stocking and tidy the warehouse.”

Baffled by the random egg comment, Wooyoon stared blankly at the manager, who adjusted his small, horn-rimmed glasses, clicked his tongue, and turned away. Living with a brother who always disapproved of him, Wooyoon was quick to sense dislike. He hadn’t figured out what he’d done wrong yet, though.

They say once a boss marks you, it’s hard to recover—how had he ended up on the manager’s bad side? Puzzling over the unsolvable, Wooyoon filled the outdoor display and headed inside to the warehouse.

“Phew, cool off first!”

The cashiers swapping receipt rolls gasped at Wooyoon—his pale skin now red and drenched in sweat. Relenting to their fussing, he stood sheepishly by the AC. Glancing around for the manager’s disapproving stare, he let the cool air sweep over his heated cheeks and neck, melting tension away like a puddle. His stifled breathing finally eased.

But the peaceful break didn’t last. Taking off his thick vest and flapping his sweat-clinging t-shirt, Wooyoon accepted a water bottle from a cashier sister. She looked at him pityingly, saying her college-freshman son, Wooyoon’s age, was better off than him—lazing at home instead of working during break.

Nodding along, Wooyoon fled to the warehouse as the unease from the staff dinner with Jinwoo resurfaced.

Crouching in a corner of the cluttered warehouse among haphazardly stacked goods, Wooyoon sprayed Pilsung’s pheromone deodorizer on his hair and neck, then checked the time on Pilsung’s phone. On the last shift today, lunch was still an hour away.

“Is that your phone, Wooyoon?”

It was Jinwoo. Wooyoon hadn’t seen him come in, but he was suddenly squatting beside him, setting down a box.

Jinwoo snatched Wooyoon’s phone after peeling off his work gloves.

“Pretty new model, huh? Bought it right when it came out?”

“I guess…”

Jinwoo smirked at Wooyoon’s oddly flat reply. Two guys Wooyoon’s age burst into the warehouse, crowding around Jinwoo.

“Hyung! What’s up?”

“Oh? Isn’t this the one you wanted but couldn’t get?”

The guys grabbed the phone from Jinwoo, chattering about stuff only they knew—couldn’t afford it, had the money but didn’t like it—playfully tussling over Wooyoon’s phone. Wooyoon watched anxiously as it passed between their hands.

-Keep the phone I got you, okay? Pick up no matter what you’re doing when it rings.

“Give it back.”

Standing, Wooyoon snatched the phone from the guys and stuffed it into his vest pocket, zipping it shut. As the guys scratched their heads awkwardly, Jinwoo scolded them.

“Why mess with someone else’s stuff? It’s expensive—Wooyoon probably treasures it.”

“…….”

“Let’s go smoke. The manager’ll flip if he sees us hanging out.”

Jinwoo slung his arms around the guys’ shoulders, tossing a “sorry” to Wooyoon as they turned to leave.

“Hey, hyung.”

Jinwoo, heading out with the guys, stopped and looked back at Wooyoon, who’d called him. His gaze said, What’s up? Wooyoon paused, then wiped his heat-reddened cheek with the back of his hand and spoke.

“It’s not because it’s expensive.”

“Huh?”

“I’m waiting… for a call, maybe.”

“Oh… uh, got it.”

Nodding casually like at the dinner days ago, Jinwoo left with the guys without lingering. Left alone in the warehouse corner, Wooyoon rubbed his sweaty forehead with his short sleeve, scratching at the unease near his chest. The tasty ribs from breakfast sat heavy, making him feel stuffed.

Past ten, the mart closed. After cleanup, Wooyoon joined the staff in the break room and pulled a paper bag from his locker.

He tucked the pheromone spray and phone—kept in his shorts and vest pockets—into the bag. With the self-defense spray and suppressants Pilsung gave him, carrying everything in his pants pockets was impractical. Needing a bag, he’d started using a paper one he’d spotted a couple days ago—sturdy and handy. Thanks to Pilsung’s daily food deliveries, he had plenty of bags and could swap them out when they wore out.

Slipping the packed bag onto his wrist and shutting the locker, Wooyoon caught Jinwoo’s stare from across the room, where he was prepping to leave. Jinwoo spoke up as if he’d been waiting.

“I’ve got an unused bag at home—want me to bring it?”

“Huh?”

“Only used it two or three times—practically new.”

“…….”

The break room buzzed with staff packing up, yet it felt oddly quiet. The air seemed to eavesdrop on Jinwoo and Wooyoon. Glancing at the guys who’d toyed with his phone and the busy staff, Wooyoon shook his head.

“It’s fine.”

“Really? Oh, right.”

As if struck by a sudden thought, Jinwoo stepped closer, draping an arm around Wooyoon’s neck and whispering.

“End of the month’s the mart’s summer break. The beta staff planned a 1-night, 2-day trip nearby—come with us.”

“Break?”

“Yeah. Everyone was bummed you skipped the second round at the last dinner. It was fun that night…”

“Oh…”

“So join us this time—let’s get closer.”

Listening quietly, Wooyoon pictured beaches, tubes, parasols, watermelon. What was a summer vacation like, only seen on TV? He’d never been…

He wanted to go. Wondered why people never missed it every summer. The mart staff, including Jinwoo, had felt off since the dinner, but a day or two together didn’t sound bad.

Swallowing hard without realizing, Wooyoon asked with a slightly tense face,

“How much… to join?”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about money. Us old-timers wouldn’t make a twenty-year-old like you pay. But this doesn’t fade, huh.”

Jinwoo curiously poked at a fingernail-sized bruise on Wooyoon’s forehead. Flustered, Wooyoon covered the spot Pilsung had flicked with his palm. Since the board game café day, he hadn’t seen Pilsung, who probably didn’t know he’d left a mark. That thought turned guilt into sudden annoyance.

Watching Wooyoon’s soft eyes twist, Jinwoo chuckled, said, “Let me know by tomorrow,” and walked off. Tugging his sweat-split bangs to hide the bruise, Wooyoon left the break room.

Walking the hour-long stretch from the mart to home, Wooyoon recalled the vacation Jinwoo mentioned.

His only “vacation” memory was a field trip to the woods from the facility where he’d lived with his brother for two years and six months before his traits emerged—not a happy one. His brother’s bad blood with the other kids left Wooyoon ostracized, and while picking acorns and chestnuts for a “fall fruit” task—including his brother’s share—he’d nearly gotten lost.

Revisiting that unhappy memory, summer vacation fantasies bloomed again.

The beach with everyone? Or a valley, a mountain? Should’ve asked where.

His grimy sneakers stepped lightly. A faint smile spread as Wooyoon fumbled in the paper bag swinging on his wrist for his phone, planning to search where friends usually went for summer trips.

But the phone, self-defense spray, deodorizer, suppressants—nothing met his grasp. Stopping, Wooyoon peered into the bag. The bottom, where his stuff should’ve been, gaped open.

“Oh…”

Mouth agape, he stared at the torn bag. It wouldn’t bring back his lost things, but panic and helplessness kept his eyes glued to it. After standing still, gazing at it, Wooyoon finally looked back at the hour-plus walk with dazed eyes.

Pulling off his gas mask, Pilsung fished a cigarette from his apron pocket. The workshop, where conveyors had hummed nonstop hours ago, now sat eerily silent.

Pilsung’s shifts were always at dawn. After collections and returning, the packing crew would trickle out, leaving him alone to start making drugs in a separate room off the workshop.

Non-pheromone pills. The purple tablets Pilsung crafted stemmed from stimulants older guys forced him to sell—ten a day—when he was a runaway fleeing his father. Later, he synthesized a substance to reverse their effect, creating non-pheromone pills for trait bearers seeking cheaper alternatives to legal pheromone boosters.

With the inheritance from his alpha father—whose only gifts were harsh beatings—Pilsung ran loans, sold drugs with the profits, and got here.

Next to his damn father, Pilsung respected an unnamed broker he’d met begging at fourteen, who’d taught him skills and trade smarts. That bastard father, sunk in the sea, had driven him to grit his teeth and survive—how could he not respect that?

Crossing the dark workshop outside, Pilsung dragged over a plastic chair and sat. As cigarette smoke curled into the dawn sky, Nam Wooyoon came to mind again.

“Ha, fuck… should’ve worn the sunglasses…”

Recalling Wooyoon’s last look—pure disdain—Pilsung smacked his bitter lips. He’d left the basement hurt, unable to ask why he was hated.

After four days of mulling alone, it was probably the sunglasses. Things had been decent at the indoor fishing spot—unless Nam Wooyoon was bipolar, he wouldn’t have kicked him out like that.

Even naked, I should’ve kept the sunglasses on…!

Chewing the cigarette between his teeth in late regret, Pilsung rubbed eyes resembling his dead father’s, blinking hard as tears stung.

Should I visit tomorrow?

Rushing over might make him bristle again, so he’d given four days’ grace. Now it was time to act like nothing happened and show his face. Gidong didn’t get his dating style, but small, pitiful things were skittish—needed patience. The big and strong had to endure.

…Still, maybe hear his voice today.

Flicking the butt away, Pilsung exhaled a long drag and pulled his phone from the apron pocket. Typing Wooyoon’s number manually—not from contacts—he smirked and hit call.

“…….”

Three, four tries—no answer.

Patience was one thing, but fuck, pick up. We had a deal.

As irritation flared at Wooyoon breaking their “lover’s duty” pact, the ringing connected. Before Pilsung could say, “It’s your boyfriend,” a strange woman’s voice cut in.

[Are you the phone’s owner?]

Retracing his route, scouring the ground, Wooyoon couldn’t find his phone. Time blurred; even the moon had shrunk. His neck and back were soaked, and after three relentless hours of walking, his soles throbbed.

Lips tight, he trudged back to the basement, lifting his t-shirt hem to wipe his sweaty face.

“…….”

Stopping on the basement stairs, he covered his face with the shirt and stood still.

It was expensive… my thing. One of the few things I had in this world.

His closed lips quivered, eyes heating up. But it was brief. Swallowing hard on purpose dried the tears. Rubbing his sweaty forehead with his arm, he descended further when a large, thick shape emerged from the dark.

The familiar silhouette stood under moonlight, revealing Pilsung in a suit and sunglasses.

“Fuck, why’re you just getting back? It’s past three a.m. Are you cra—”

“I lost it.”

“What?”

Facing Pilsung after four days, Wooyoon whimpered softly.

“The phone… you gave me… I lost it.”

Pilsung stared at Wooyoon, sobbing dumbly on the stairs. His hair clumped with sweat, clutching a torn paper bag, he looked filthy—utterly pitiful.

“I put it in the bag, but when I checked, sob…”

The tears he’d held back burst out. Not when he noticed the phone was gone, not during three hours wandering the streets—but now, grief poured out. The phone that first earned peers’ envy, his first new possession, his first gift from someone—gone.

He’d planned to apologize for being harsh days ago if Pilsung came, but losing the phone too, “sorry” wouldn’t come out. Like a ten-year-old, Wooyoon sniffled inconsolably.

“Sob, hic…”

“Hey… stop crying…”

It wasn’t worth crying over, but Wooyoon’s wails softened Pilsung’s voice.

Pilsung had Wooyoon’s phone. A 24-hour convenience store worker—halfway between the mart and basement—had found it, and he’d rushed to retrieve it, slipping crisp 50,000-won bills in an envelope as thanks. Even if he hadn’t, so what? A couple’s phone could be replaced.

Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket, Pilsung started,

“Your phone’s with me—”

Not hearing him out, Wooyoon stumbled down the stairs like he’d collapse and buried his head in Pilsung’s chest.

“Sob, I’m sorry.”

“…!”

His sunglasses slid down his nose as if his heart had dropped. Wide-eyed, Pilsung looked down at his chest. The hot, sweaty head nudged it again lightly.

“Ugh.”

Letting out an uncool sound, Pilsung muttered, “Fuuuck,” under his breath so Wooyoon wouldn’t hear. Frowning, feeling his racing heart, he slowly pulled his hand from the pocket, flailing briefly in the air, unsure where to put it.

“Over something like that… why… cry…”

Diverting from wrapping around the head on his chest, Pilsung cautiously rested his hand on Wooyoon’s back, tapping the sweat-soaked heat gently. Forehead pressed to his firm chest, Wooyoon sniffled through a clogged nose, saying what he’d wanted to tell Pilsung for four days.

“I don’t… hate you that much…”

“…….”

Snapping his sunglasses back up, Pilsung grabbed Wooyoon’s head with one hand, yanking it off his chest. Glancing at the teary, clumped lashes, he gripped Wooyoon’s crown and shouted,

“Hey! Fuck!”

“Why’re you curs—”

Cutting off Wooyoon’s question, Pilsung vented his grievance.

“Are you trying to kill me? Why do you fuck with me every time I try to do right by you?”

“When did I—!”

“Acting like you’ll flip out and kick me out if I grab my swollen dick, so why the fuck do you lean on my chest like that?!”

“…….”

Wooyoon, glaring back at Pilsung’s sudden outburst, lowered his eyes. Pilsung’s pants bulged thickly at the crotch, unable to contain the massive presence. Leaning on the wall with one hand, shifting awkwardly, Pilsung rubbed his nose roughly with the other.

Hearing “not that much” hate from Nam Wooyoon moved him, but his lower half jumped the gun. Heart pounding, core tingling—he’d need to retreat to the car out front to drive. At this rate, even reaching it up the stairs was doubtful.

Glancing at Wooyoon’s oblivious, disheveled face, Pilsung growled low,

“Fuck…”

As Pilsung debated shoving Wooyoon inside and dousing himself in the shitty bathroom, Wooyoon—eyeing the bulge straining past his thigh—tried another assassination.

“Like last time… it’s fine. If you… keep it hidden… I’ll bear it.”

“…Hidden?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah, my ass. Fuck, how do you jerk off hidden?

Pilsung’s open mouth huffed. He didn’t get what the dumb face staring up meant, but with his urgent situation below, he nodded vaguely.

“Fine, let’s try.”

Placing a hand on the bulging outline, he stepped toward Wooyoon. Fumbling the zipper down without unbuckling, Wooyoon, fiddling with the torn bag, added another condition.

“Do it inside.”

“What? Why?”

Pilsung paused, hand on his dick, and asked back.

“What if someone splashes water again?”

“…Oh. Right.”

Even amid his aroused haze, he didn’t want another stinking drenching. Accepting this condition easily, Pilsung zipped back up. Whether Wooyoon knew the wriggling dick inside was about to burst, he stepped forward. Following awkwardly, trying to straighten up, Pilsung snapped,

“Fuck! What now!”

“Don’t… get too close like last time. A bit… farther?”

“Goddamn, shit.”

He didn’t do deals with too many conditions—trouble always followed. Like in business, he wanted to yell, “Fuck it, I’m out!” and turn away, but Pilsung forced a grin, swallowing hard, his throat bulging. He gulped down his temper.

“Fine, give me your hand.”

“…Why?”

Staring suspiciously, Pilsung enunciated clearly,

“To hold it like last time.”

Before Wooyoon could agree, Pilsung grabbed his hand and dragged him into the room.

The unlit room glowed blue with moonlight. Squatting in the blue air, Wooyoon stared at his outstretched arm’s end. A gold ring glinting in a sliver of moonlight from the small window caught his eye.

“Ha, ngh, fuck…”

Barely clutching Wooyoon’s fingertips, Pilsung gripped up to his wrist, letting out a short groan. Thick veins bulged on his hand as he squeezed the slim wrist tight.

“Fuck, so soft…”

Kneading the dry wrist and smooth palm, he rubbed between the fingers. Unlike his, Wooyoon’s hands—untouched by rough or bad deeds—were soft everywhere, consistently tender.

“Put, ngh, strength in your hand.”

“…….”

Glancing at Pilsung jerking off, waiting uncomfortably for it to end, Wooyoon tightened his grip as told. The suit jacket over Pilsung’s crossed legs jolted harder.

“Ha! Fuck, so tight, shit.”

Grimacing with an “ugh,” Wooyoon frowned hard. He was enduring out of guilt and gratitude, but didn’t want to know what fantasies his hand fueled. Trying to slip free, Pilsung gripped tighter. Trapped, Wooyoon had no choice but to watch the heaving jacket.

“Ha, ha… fuuuck…”

The room filled with Pilsung’s breaths. Hearing wet flesh, Wooyoon eyed the jacket rising in sync with Pilsung’s rolled-up right arm. The bulging, heaving center looked like an untamed monster lurked beneath.

Frowning, Wooyoon muttered to himself,

“Doesn’t it hurt…? TV said… not to do it too hard…”

“Ha! Nam Wooyoon, fuck, so soft, ah! Ngh!”

“But betas really don’t smell… weird…”

“Ngh, cumming! Fuck! Ha, legs—no, ngh, fuck! Spread your fingers!”

Mumbling to himself, Wooyoon obeyed Pilsung’s panting shout. Spreading his clenched fingers, Pilsung’s thick knuckles twitched hard, and the jacket’s movement stilled.

“Grr, hooo…!”

Chin up, scar stark on his throat, Pilsung groaned like scraping metal, jerking his right hand under the jacket a few more rough times.

“Ah… ahh…”

“…….”

“Hoo…”

“…….”

Silently watching Pilsung’s thick chest rise and fall as he caught his breath, Wooyoon slipped his hand free. Unlike before, when Pilsung wouldn’t let go, he released it easily now. Checking the red marks on his fingers and hand, Wooyoon wiped them hard on his pants, scrubbing off Pilsung’s sweat and heat.

Awkward and burdensome, but bearable since the dick stayed out of sight. Kind of fascinating too…

Noticing Wooyoon’s blatant stare, Pilsung adjusted his sweat-slid sunglasses with his middle finger, fitting them snugly, and asked,

“What, kicking me out again?”

“…….”

The lack of reaction unnerved him. Huffing sharply, Pilsung rubbed the sticky fluid between his fingers onto the jacket before Wooyoon could really boot him, then stuffed his still-excited dick back into his pants.

Fuck, one more round would’ve cleared me out perfect.

Regretting his lower half, Pilsung dug into the jacket pocket and pulled out Wooyoon’s phone.

“Hey, take thi—”

“Mine!”

Before explaining where or how he’d found it, Wooyoon recognized it and crawled over from a distance. But he only tugged at his shorts’ hem, not taking it from Pilsung’s hand. Guessing his fear, Pilsung set the phone down in front of the hesitant Wooyoon.

“Your boyfriend makes good money. Lose it, I’ll buy another.”

“…….”

“Oh… did you say thug money’s dirty and you hate it?”

As Pilsung reached for the phone on the floor, Wooyoon snatched it, stuffing it into his shorts pocket. Chuckling low, Pilsung watched, throat rumbling.

Cute little shit makes me wanna do anything for him. He used to flip out and freak no matter what I did—now saying it’s “not that much” hate feels rewarding.

Through his sunglasses, Pilsung’s lips curled up on one side in satisfaction. Nam Wooyoon, hard to tame, was finally softening up. At this rate, it was worth a shot.

Gazing fondly at Wooyoon clutching the phone in his pocket, Pilsung cleared his throat with a “hmph.” Sweeping back hair fallen over his forehead from rough lust, he casually tossed out a prepared line.

“You, uh… summer break starts end of the month, right?”

Focused on keeping the phone in his pocket, Wooyoon looked up at the vacation mention.

“How’d you know?”

“The guy subbing for me. You know he’s my crew—why ask?”

“Knew it. To spy on me…”

His eyes, meek when crying over the lost phone on the stairs, turned triangular in a flash.

Spying, fuck.

Pilsung marveled at Wooyoon forgetting his promise to protect him. Stunned, he stared at the clueless face—ignorant of protection versus spying—then nodded to himself. Born with a small head and limited capacity, what could Nam Wooyoon do? He had to understand.

About to snap, Pilsung pitied the glaring Wooyoon and continued the vacation talk.

“The office boys and I have a summer spot we hit every year.”

“…….”

“It’s not far from Seoul, and the water’s clean. It’s a valley, but even during vacation season, it doesn’t get overcrowded with people, so it’s not chaotic like some beach—it’s perfect for hanging out.”

“…….”

Pilsung glanced at Wooyoon, who didn’t respond, and licked his dry lips with his tongue. Then, scratching the innocent floor with the nail of his thick index finger, he steered toward the main point.

“There’s a pension nearby… the owner’s one of my clients. He’ll let us sleep there and grill meat for us.”

“…….”

“It’s close to the valley, so at night you can hear the water while walking, and see the stars too. So.”

Folding his index finger that had been fidgeting on the moonlit floor, Pilsung looked up at Wooyoon.

“Wanna… go on vacation together?”

The heat from the recent jerk-off made his neck feel like it was burning up. Pilsung’s chest itched, his heart pounded painfully, and his mouth was so dry his lips kept sticking to his teeth. He wanted an answer quick, but instead of saying yes or no, Wooyoon just stared at him blankly. Those round, drooping eyes gave no hint of what he was thinking.

“…….”

“…….”

Trying to read Wooyoon’s reaction, Pilsung’s fierce eyes darted side to side behind his sunglasses. He tried waiting with optimism, but Wooyoon’s tightly shut lips didn’t seem likely to open anytime soon. Unable to hold back, Pilsung grabbed his jacket with one hand and sprang up.

“Fuck! If you don’t go, I’ll turn this place into a valley, so you’d better know that!”

Scared of rejection, Pilsung yelled for no reason and stormed out of the tiny room. It felt like the ‘PTS’ from being kicked out by Wooyoon four days ago was flaring up again.

He can stand me waving my dick in his face but can’t go on vacation together? Giving hope then yanking it away. Teasing me like he’ll come around but never quite does. Cruel bastard.

Half-shoving his crumpled shoes on, Pilsung started up the stairs but turned toward the bathroom instead. He snatched a pair of Wooyoon’s panties off the clothesline. The rough yank made the clothespin snap loudly and bounce.

Boldly burying his nose in the stolen panties, he stomped up the stairs.

“Fuck…”

Wooyoon’s panties only smelled of laundry soap. Pilsung wondered—if Wooyoon had stopped taking the non-pheromone pills since his heat, if he could smell others’ pheromones now—what would it be like? Could he have caught the wild scent of Nam Wooyoon vibrating from the panties he’d shoved his nose into? Could he have read the feelings of Nam Wooyoon staring at him when he asked to go on vacation together? Could he have known exactly what Nam Wooyoon meant by saying Baek Pilsung wasn’t “that much” hated?

Was he still lying out of fear and dislike, was it just a whim, or was it really a signal to take a chance?

Climbing into the car parked by the gate, Pilsung shut the door before the trapped hot air could escape and unbuttoned his pants. Placing Wooyoon’s worn panties over his slightly tilted-back face, he muttered curses under his breath and started stroking his already aroused dick.

“Nam Wooyoon, ha…, so good, fuck, ah…”

With each rough breath, the panties on his face tickled his nose and lips. Pilsung imagined the soft, warm flesh between Wooyoon’s legs. Picturing the small, pretty dick, balls, and hole tucked in the thin, worn fabric of the panties, he teased his tip. Wanting to hug that dumb crying face and pound into him like a dog, his hips twitched.

“Ngh, shit…!”

Spitting out broken curses mid-jerk, Pilsung yanked the panties off his face and wrapped them around his leaking dick.

“Ha! Nam, Wooyoon, you fuck! Ngh…!!”

Chin up, body stiff and trembling slightly, his thick dick pulsed, spilling sticky cum into the panties coiled around the tip. Rubbing the slick head with Wooyoon’s panties, savoring the afterglow, Pilsung took off his sunglasses.

He felt like shit, but jerking off with the panties was good. Blinking sweat from his eyelids, he tossed the soiled panties to the passenger seat and grabbed a cigarette to light.

Vacation… he’ll go, right?

Since he’d threatened to turn the basement into a valley if he didn’t, Nam Wooyoon—that dumbass—would probably take it literally and tag along, even reluctantly. But a coerced yes didn’t feel satisfying. He’d wanted their first trip together to be exciting, not a forced bow…

Opening the window to air out the smell, Pilsung smoked slowly and clicked his tongue.

Peering up at the night sky from under the open window, Wooyoon heard the faint hum of a car engine and finally sat back against the wall. It’d been a while since Pilsung left, yet he was only now starting the car—odd.

Was he upset because I didn’t answer about the vacation clearly? Would he disappear for another four days like last time?

“…….”

Crouching by the window, Wooyoon twitched his pursed lips.

I couldn’t answer clearly. Jinwoo had already invited me to join the mart staff, and I was excited about it. So I should’ve told Pilsung I already had plans, but my mouth wouldn’t move. Even though Pilsung, in the same boat as me, feels more comfortable than the mart crew, a thug’s a thug. Normal people would pick coworkers over a thug vacation, so why did I hesitate at Pilsung’s offer?

-I don’t hate you that much.

There’s stuff I’m grateful for, stuff I feel bad about. Baek Pilsung isn’t as hateable as before, but that doesn’t mean I like a thug enough to hang out with him.

Not that I’d ever like a thug anyway…

Wooyoon pulled the phone from his shorts pocket.

He knew Baek Pilsung wasn’t all bad, but going on a trip with a thug who’d intimidated him was too reckless.

“…….”

Staring at the phone in his hand, Wooyoon stood up abruptly. He slammed the wide-open window shut toward the ground. Not enough, he stuffed a rag into the frame to keep it locked, but the blue moonlight still streamed through the glass, illuminating the narrow room.

Knock, knock, knock! Sister-in-law! Knock, knock!

Wooyoon woke to the loud morning ruckus, eyes barely opening from scant sleep. His legs, worn from last night’s phone hunt, ached like stones were tied to them.

Propping himself up, he looked at the window. As usual, Gidong’s lower half squatted outside—not a great sight to wake to. Crawling under the window, Wooyoon grabbed the wall to stand.

Pulling the rag from the frame, Gidong flung the window open and shoved something inside. Unlike other days, it wasn’t packaged food but a bag.

Wooyoon’s eyes widened at the black Nike messenger bag with its bold logo. Staring blankly at it in both hands, he slowly unzipped it. Inside were pheromone suppressants, deodorizer, and a self-defense spray—new ones, not his lost items, judging by the “pepper” label fully written out.

“Today’s breakfast is raw beef bibimbap and snail soybean paste soup. Grade A+ Hanwoo beef—the meat’s no joke.”

Gidong thrust a shopping bag with a cow illustration through the window. Despite the savory sesame oil and soybean paste aromas, Wooyoon ignored the food, fixated on the bag. Tracing the Nike logo with his finger, his lips curved up slightly, eyes tinged with tension and excitement.

On the way to work, he repeatedly felt the bag’s bottom slung over his shoulder, checking for tears. The pricey brand’s stitching was solid. Leaving home worried about losing his phone, his hands now fretted over dirtying the new bag. Afraid of bumping into someone, he shifted it to his chest and hurried.

Rushing, he arrived at the mart ten minutes early. In the break room, Jinwoo waved at Wooyoon, who entered clutching the bag. Wooyoon nodded vaguely and headed to his locker, unpacking the bag first.

Watching Wooyoon shove it deep into the locker, Jinwoo said awkwardly,

“You’ve got a bag? I brought one for you.”

“Huh?”

Turning in his mart vest, Wooyoon saw Jinwoo holding a large backpack. Said to be nearly new from two or three uses, its worn bottom and frayed stitches were obvious even from afar.

“Nice one you got. This is good too… but if you won’t use it, I’ll toss it.”

Squinting regretfully, Jinwoo chucked the logo-less backpack into the break room trash. Wooyoon watched quietly, gripping the bag stashed in his locker. Jinwoo dusted his hands and turned to him.

“So, thought about the vacation? You’re coming, right?”

“I… I’m not going.”

Swallowing hard after answering, Wooyoon’s tense reaction made Jinwoo chuckle.

“You don’t have to pay. If it bothers you, maybe thirty thousand won? But really, no need. Would your hyungs and noonas take money from you?”

“Sorry. I just… won’t go.”

“…….”

“It’s not about money… I don’t really like going out, and also…”

Wooyoon’s eyes darted, searching for excuses, fumbling with the bag in the locker and mumbling. Jinwoo cut in with an “Okay.”

“Fine, whatever. No big deal if you don’t go. Don’t worry about it.”

Waving it off with a smile, Jinwoo left the break room. Wooyoon watched the door close, exhaling in relief. He’d always found TV or book characters who couldn’t say no frustrating, but doing it himself was tough. Still, he didn’t want his first vacation stuck with uncomfortable people just because he couldn’t refuse.

Baek Pilsung feels… more comfortable and fun than the mart crew…

His gaze drifted to the locker. Unknowingly, Wooyoon loosened his tight grip on the bag’s strap.

* * *

“Ha, so good… ah…, Nam Wooyoon…”

“Hurry up.”

Wooyoon alternated between Pilsung’s back—jerking off hard while holding his hand—and the window. The multiple shoe steps pacing outside the tiny room’s window unnerved him. He couldn’t fathom Pilsung, who, even on vacation morning, was unzipping and dealing with his lust as usual.

Behind a tree, in the car, on the stairs, in the bathroom, at the door—since allowing hand-holding jerk-offs, Pilsung had taken to stroking himself in front of him anytime, anywhere. The act itself was familiar now, but his boundless lust remained astonishing no matter how often he saw it.

The huge duffel bag slung over Pilsung’s back looked heavy—how much had he packed? Guessing its contents to pass time, Wooyoon silently watched Pilsung’s neck flush red, arm stretched back to hold his hand. Tightening his grip on their entwined fingers, Pilsung’s groans grew louder, mixed with heavy breaths.

“Haah! Fuuuck…!”

His thick shoulders quivered. Unlike his usual suits, the short-sleeve tee revealed Pilsung’s bulging forearm muscles twitching vividly.

“Done?”

It sounded like he’d nearly died of boredom. Pilsung sniffed hard and grunted, “Yeah.” Rubbing Wooyoon’s hand with his thumb as if pressing it, he let go, tore off some toilet paper, and cleaned up his spent dick. Wiping between his fingers, he sat dazed briefly until Wooyoon, tired of waiting, stood up behind him.

“Come on out.”

Watching Wooyoon leave first, Pilsung scratched his head roughly. He hadn’t wanted to start vacation morning like this either. But seeing Wooyoon in a sleeveless tee he’d dolled up in for the trip made it impossible not to get hard. The giant parrot printed on the chest was still shitty, but the bare, skinny shoulders and armpits were so sexy his dick nearly fell off.

Spotting Wooyoon waiting at the threshold with the messenger bag he’d bought him, Pilsung couldn’t stop the feral urge exploding in his gut. He’d dragged Wooyoon back inside and dropped his pants right then.

After blowing once, sanity returned, and late regret hit—why couldn’t he hold back? Starting off doing something the kid hated in front of a guy who was only coming along because of his threats.

Fuck, even pampering Nam Wooyoon barely earns points…

As Pilsung fretted over the next two days, Wooyoon climbed the stairs and nodded a greeting to Gidong and the Baek Pilsung office thugs smoking by the parked car at the gate.

“Sister-in-law, hello.”

Chatting away, Gidong and the group stubbed out their cigarettes and bowed to Wooyoon.

The thugs wore their usual drab black suits but had added hats and sunglasses. Maybe that’s why the “sister-in-law” stuff didn’t grate today. The reality of a trip sank in, and his heart just pounded with excitement.

“Hey, our car’s taking the lead.”

Climbing up, Pilsung handed his diagonally slung duffel to Gidong and spoke. Opening the driver’s door—planning to drive himself—Wooyoon darted to the passenger side on instinct.

Facing his first vacation, Wooyoon fought to keep his lips from curling up. He didn’t want anyone seeing him excited about a trip with thugs.

“Fuck…”

Watching Wooyoon climb in with a scowl over the car roof, Pilsung muttered low. He wanted to take him somewhere nice, feed him good food, and have fun, but starting off with a sulky mood left him at a loss for how to fix it.

He was great at ruining moods, but absolute shit at lifting them…