One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 8.1

Pilsung punched the destination—a valley in Gyeonggi Province—into the navigation and started driving. Wooyoon glanced at the screen, which predicted about an hour’s travel time, and fidgeted with the Nike bag slung across his chest before asking,

“Did you buy a watermelon?”

“What?”

Startled by the sudden question, Pilsung shot a sideways glance at the passenger seat. He’d been racking his brain over how to lift Wooyoon’s mood—forced into this vacation—so the car could shift from its dreary vibe to the sweet, fun atmosphere he’d hoped for. He hadn’t imagined the conversation would kick off with watermelon.

Thrown by the random topic, Pilsung forgot to answer and kept driving, sneaking looks at Wooyoon, who was opening and closing the bag’s front zipper. Then Wooyoon asked again.

“Did you buy a watermelon, I said?”

“Oh… the guys bought all the food we’ll eat there, so I don’t know what’s what.”

“…….”

“Why, you want watermelon?”

“No. Never mind.”

Wooyoon whipped his head toward the window, and Pilsung straightened up, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter.

“Hey, Nam Wooyoon.”

Glancing at the unresponsive back of his head, Pilsung wet his lips with his tongue and pressed on.

“You’ll really like it there. It’s cool at night—you can sleep without AC.”

“…….”

“Going with me—is it that bad?”

Wooyoon turned from the window to look at Pilsung. The sunglasses hid Pilsung’s eyes, but his tight lips suggested this wasn’t a joke. Wooyoon shrank the hand fiddling with the bag and narrowed his brow.

Why’s he asking that? Does my face look like I don’t want to go? I’m actually trying hard not to seem too excited.

Not wanting to look overly thrilled about a trip with thugs, Wooyoon softened the scowl he’d been holding and spoke quietly.

“It’s not that bad…”

He meant to say it wasn’t that bad, but a car speeding through a signal cut off Pilsung’s left turn toward Uijeongbu, forcing Wooyoon to swallow his words. In a split second, Pilsung slammed the brakes, narrowly avoiding a crash.

Pressing the horn hard enough to flex the muscles in his thick forearm, Pilsung flung the window open and yelled,

“Fuck! You shitty bastard! Wanna hold the wheel like a dick?!”

The offending car was long gone, but Pilsung, still fuming, kept blaring the horn. The sound pierced the air. Other cars, stalled behind Pilsung’s in the middle of the road, joined in with a chorus of honks. The intersection leading to the eastern highway turned into chaos in no time.

“Ha, fuck.”

Normally, he’d floor the gas and chase them down, but determined to make this first trip with Wooyoon sweet and fun, Pilsung barely reined in his boiling temper and got the car moving again. They left the noisy road behind, dipping into an underpass.

“Should grind that bastard’s hands and scatter them in hell to wake him up, fucking asshole… Hey, you okay?”

Muttering low to cool off, Pilsung glanced at the passenger seat. Wooyoon leaned back, eyes closed. No way he’d fallen asleep in that mess—his fingertip toyed with the bag’s zipper, proving he was awake. Why he was pretending to sleep when Pilsung wasn’t even mad at him was a mystery.

What, he doesn’t even want to talk on the way?

It stung, thinking Wooyoon might not hate him “that much” but still wasn’t up for a trip together. Pilsung grumbled with a hint of hurt.

“Open your damn eyes before I shove a whole pack of caffeine gum down your throat.”

At the threat, Wooyoon obediently lifted his eyelids and gazed out at the passing scenery as if nothing had happened.

The view, still within the city, wasn’t anything special, yet his heart kept fluttering. Going on a trip with a thug who casually spat out terrifying threats like grinding people up—what was so great about that?

— Going with me—is it that bad?

It’s not that. It’s just embarrassing to be happy about something others wouldn’t…

At a rest stop, Pilsung smoked with the office crew on the stairs, shaking wet hands as Wooyoon emerged from the bathroom. Exhaling smoke through a wide grin, Pilsung thought Wooyoon stood out even in shitty clothes. His pale, lanky limbs looked extra striking today. The usual shorts were fine, but that sleeveless tee showing off his white shoulders was the problem.

Stubbornly snuffing his cigarette in the stand ashtray, Pilsung beckoned Wooyoon with a finger. The slow, dumb way he trudged over with the bag Pilsung had bought him was beyond pathetic.

Pilsung tugged at Wooyoon’s parrot tee as he approached. The loose sleeveless shirt stretched limply to the side. It was just a playful yank, but the worn fabric gave way more than expected, exposing a pink nipple through the opposite armhole.

“Whoa, shit.”

Startled, Pilsung quickly spun Wooyoon around. He’d nearly let random guys see a chest he hadn’t even fully checked out himself. The thought alone chilled him. Dodging the office crew’s eyes, Pilsung grabbed Wooyoon’s hand and dragged him to the convenience store.

Clueless and towed along, Wooyoon swallowed hard at the store and lifted their joined hands.

“Can I… eat that?”

His eyes were glued to a skewer alternating sausage and white rice cake. Pilsung smirked at Wooyoon’s taste—picking a snack that’d been hyped on TV years ago but faded lately—and nodded toward the skewer counter.

“Yeah, yeah. Eat it, eat.”

With a generous tone, Pilsung gave the go-ahead. Wooyoon tugged their joined hands, looking up at him.

“Tornado potatoes and churros too?”

“Sure, eat.”

The droopy eyes and lips that had sagged the whole ride out of Seoul curled up prettily. Pilsung froze for a moment, staring at Wooyoon smiling up at him. Seeing that big-eyed grin made his stiff shoulders—tense from worrying about the little guy’s mood—melt away.

Dragged around by Wooyoon’s impatient “Hurry up,” Pilsung whipped out his wallet all over the store, racking up 60,000 won at the rest stop alone. Even after gorging on snacks, Wooyoon wanted cold noodles, so Pilsung bought that too. An hour delayed at the last stop before their destination, yet the smile never left his face.

“Good?”

“Mmph.”

Wooyoon’s lips, stuffed with chewy noodles, mumbled a dumb reply. Pilsung propped an arm on the chair back, smirking at the goofy face.

He knew Wooyoon’s food obsession wasn’t greed—it was making up for years of going hungry. That mix of pity and cuteness got to him.

That’s how it is with those who’ve never had enough. They scarf it down like they might never eat again. It’s why Pilsung was crazy about Nam Wooyoon too. He’d spent his life hating everyone, himself included—would another person like Wooyoon ever come along? Doubtful, so he couldn’t help but cling hard. Looking uncool in front of the crew didn’t matter.

Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, Pilsung watched Wooyoon, who’d been slurping noodles and now cut them with his front teeth, glance at him.

“You… not eating?”

“You eat.”

Pilsung, full just watching Wooyoon, yielded the half-left noodles. Meant well, but something irked Wooyoon—he abruptly set down his chopsticks. Pilsung had thought he’d cheered up, but apparently not yet. Scanning the food court for what else to shove in that mouth, a hesitant voice piped up.

“But…”

“What.”

“Did they buy watermelon? Did you ask?”

What the fuck—wearing that dumbass parrot shirt and parroting about watermelon?

Pilsung’s thick brows twitched above his sunglasses. Tilting his head at the baffling question, he grabbed his phone and called Gidong. Pressing it to his ear as it rang, he glanced at Wooyoon, whose big eyes stared intently.

[Yes, boss.]

“You there?”

[Yeah. Been about twenty minutes. Unpacking and getting the guys sorted.]

“Did you buy watermelon?”

A puzzled “Huh?” came back, so Pilsung repeated.

“Watermelon. Did you guys grab any when shopping? Uh… yeah. Yeah, got it.”

Hanging up, Pilsung set the phone down.

“They bought it yesterday. Two of ‘em, so quit asking.”

Wooyoon, eyes wide awaiting the answer, bit his lip and grinned shyly. That smile—prettier than when Pilsung had bought all those snacks and noodles—stunned him. Propping his head on a light fist, Pilsung chuckled dryly.

“Fucking tough.”

“…….”

“You’re fucking tough, you know? I’ve taken in every damn stray—dogs, cats, chicks, rats, whatever abandoned shit.”

Counting off the strays he’d pitied and cared for, Pilsung dropped the fist propping his head, sighed, and looked at Wooyoon.

“But a stubborn one like you? First time. You’re a real damn handful.”

“…….”

“Fuck, but you’re the prettiest too.”

Shrugging with a low chuckle, Pilsung pointed at Wooyoon’s noodle bowl with his index finger.

“Finish that, then grab a shirt from my bag in the car.”

Embarrassed by Pilsung’s weird remark, Wooyoon asked snippily, “Why?”

Pilsung’s brow slanted above his sunglasses.

“Why? Even on a trip, there’s a fucking limit to flashing skin. You keep showing your chest next to me—how am I supposed to drive? Unless you’re letting me touch, don’t show it. Got it?”

“That’s all you see?”

Wooyoon glared at Pilsung with disgust. He’d meant to say the trip wasn’t that bad, but the words shrank back, replaced by a nag.

“Look at the nature outside.”

“Nature, fuck!”

Slamming both hands on the table with a bang, Pilsung burst out, “Puhaha!!” Travelers in the rest stop diner glanced over. Wooyoon, neck flushed red, left his noodles half-eaten and stood.

“Get up, quick! Let’s go…!”

He yanked Pilsung’s forearm—still pounding the table with laughter—with both arms. Pilsung rose reluctantly, staggering as if he couldn’t stop laughing, and slyly draped an arm over Wooyoon’s low shoulder. Obvious move, but Wooyoon let it slide. Annoying, but not bad. He’d even held hands during Pilsung’s lustful moments—this was tolerable.

Travel was strange. It made him unable to hide his excitement despite the shame, and joy softened him. Maybe that’s why people on TV trips always looked so bright.

Glancing at Pilsung leaning his big frame on his shoulder, Wooyoon smiled silently with a flushed face.

At the pension, Baek Pilsung’s crew had already prepped for water play and waited. Snatching the watermelon from Gidong’s hands, Wooyoon followed Pilsung on a ten-minute walk to the valley.

While Pilsung and his guys claimed a spot by the water, Wooyoon’s first move was dunking the watermelon in the stream. Seeing it half-submerged in the icy summer water, a smile spread across his face.

He’d always wanted to try it. A classic TV scene.

The watermelon in the stream made it real—he was on a summer vacation, doing a vacance. The laughter he’d held back in the car burst out unguarded.

“You kept asking about watermelon for this?”

Pilsung, now beside him, squatted and tapped the melon. Wooyoon, grinning ear to ear, explained.

“This keeps it cool to eat.”

Pilsung found Wooyoon’s obvious tip absurd, but seeing his sulky mood—dragged along with thugs—finally lift was a relief. Caught up in the vibe, Pilsung gathered small stones from the water and stacked them in a circle around the melon.

“Otherwise it’ll float away.”

“Ohh…”

Pilsung glanced down at the dumb “ohh” and nodding head, clasped his hands underwater, and squeezed hard. A jet of water shot between his fingers, hitting Wooyoon’s face dead-on. Choking as it splashed into his open, admiring mouth, Wooyoon coughed. Pilsung, merciless, fired more water like a squirt gun.

“Ha, stop it!”

“Stop? Nah, I’m doing it.”

Relentlessly spraying Wooyoon’s face till he couldn’t open his eyes, Pilsung shook with laughter. With Nam Wooyoon’s mood fully thawed, his red-nosed, waterlogged face was too cute not to tease.

“How’s the water taste? Different from Seoul?”

“Pfft! Stop, ugh, I said!”

As Pilsung teased, about to wipe Wooyoon’s drenched bangs with a big hand, a rock-sized stone flew at him, crashing into the water hard. Squatting defenseless, Pilsung got soaked head to toe in an instant.

“Hahaha!! Boss! How’s the water taste?”

Gidong, with perfect aim, hit only Pilsung between the two and laughed loud. The other crew guys, hovering near Wooyoon, snickered at their drenched boss looking like a drowned rat.

“Shit…”

Pilsung, his waxed-back hair ruined, swept the dripping strands aside and muttered a curse. Standing, he handed his sunglasses to Wooyoon, who clutched his red nose and looked up.

“Hold these.”

Wooyoon took the solemnly offered sunglasses instinctively. Staring up at Pilsung’s fierce eyes narrowing dangerously, he worried a storm was brewing. Clearly pissed at his rowdy crew. Maybe he shouldn’t have come on a thug vacation.

But contrary to Wooyoon’s fears, Pilsung leaped into the water where his crew stood, swinging his arms to splash back in a goofy counterattack.

“You fucking punks! No respect!”

Yelling loud, dousing them with water, Pilsung’s face shone bright under the summer sun.

“…….”

Holding his stinging nose from the water, rolling his eyes, Wooyoon stared at Pilsung splashing and grinning like a kid among the men. Weird. That face, always so scary, looked different.

— Going with me—is it that bad?

It’s not that…

A water drop slid from his lashes to his cheek. Forgetting to blink, Wooyoon watched Pilsung and stood slowly. Then, lifted by his legs by the crew, Pilsung was tossed into a deep pool. Splashing under then popping up, he peeled off his soaked shirt irritably, baring a big, solid torso under the blazing sun.

— You hate me, don’t you.

“Nam Wooyoon!”

“…….”

“Get in!”

Turning to Wooyoon, Pilsung tilted his head to shake water from his ear and laughed—an innocent grin unfit for a thug.

-Was I bad again today?

Recalling Pilsung’s words, Wooyoon gripped his diagonal bag strap tight and muttered to himself.

“It’s fun…”

He didn’t need to be ashamed of his situation, where even small things brought joy. It was okay to show excitement, to enjoy it. With Baek Pilsung, he felt he didn’t have to feel embarrassed.

Pilsung splashed over, scooped Wooyoon up in his arms. Frantically tossing his bag to the shore, Wooyoon clung to Pilsung’s neck as he carried him to the deep pool. Knowing he’d be thrown in to be teased, he couldn’t stop giggling.

Burying his face in Pilsung’s cold, wet neck, Wooyoon felt happiness—rare, maybe a first—as his body lifted into the air.

“Haha, you okay?”

Pilsung’s low laugh felt comforting as he pulled Wooyoon’s flailing arms up from the water. Leaning on his big hand to stand, Wooyoon closed his eyes and grinned at him.

“Yeah! It’s fun!”

“…….”

Staring blankly at the smiling face, Pilsung cupped Wooyoon’s wet cheeks with both hands and leaned down, pressing their lips together. A short breath slipped from Wooyoon’s parted lips, caught off guard.

The moment Wooyoon’s breath hit his lips, Pilsung’s chest felt like it’d burst. He knew Wooyoon might hate this, but his blanked-out mind couldn’t reason. Was it an alpha’s cursed instinct or a thug’s crude love?

Frowning with closed eyes, Pilsung parted his lips slightly, biting Wooyoon’s soft lower lip. Sucking gently, Wooyoon let out an “Ah….” Tilting his head the other way, Pilsung worked his dry jaw, nibbling and releasing Wooyoon’s lips inside his mouth.

Around them, Pilsung’s crew cheered mischievously, and distant travelers’ stares pierced through. Feeling the eyes, Wooyoon’s body heated up, oblivious to the cold water at his ankles. His ears flushed red as he belatedly grabbed Pilsung’s wrists on his cheeks.

Clawing at the immovable arms, wondering how to push him off, the massive body suddenly jerked back. Splashing away, Pilsung covered his mouth with one hand, staring wide-eyed at Wooyoon.

“Nam… Nam Wooyoon… this just now…”

Flustered like he’d been ambushed with a kiss, Pilsung’s crew whooped “Wooaa!!” and whistled behind him. Unaware of Pilsung’s unrequited struggle, they seemed to love their boss’s bold move.

Pilsung spun around, shouting,

“Fuck! Shut up, all of you!”

“Wooo, wooo!”

“These punks…”

Pissed at their antics, Pilsung hefted a huge rock from the water with one hand. Muscles tensed as if to hurl it, he glared at his noisy crew, but an unexpected voice cut through the chaos.

“Nam Wooyoon…? Wooyoon-ah!”

Pilsung and Wooyoon’s eyes snapped to the same spot. Wooyoon blinked blankly at Jinwoo in a rash guard.

“Hyung…?”

“You okay?”

Jinwoo approached, gently pulling Wooyoon behind him. Caught off guard, Wooyoon glanced back where Jinwoo came from. A few meters away, the mart crew Jinwoo knew stood, paused, eyeing Wooyoon and Pilsung’s gang warily.

Wooyoon hadn’t expected their vacation spot to overlap with the mart’s beta staff who’d invited him. Startled briefly by the encounter, he recalled Jinwoo reporting Pilsung at the barbecue place and grabbed his arm.

“Hyung, uh…!”

“Yeah, what?”

Turning at the interruption, Wooyoon saw Pilsung stride over, reaching past Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“You hitting on my boyfriend right now?”

His big hand yanked Wooyoon’s short sleeve, stretching Pilsung’s borrowed rest-stop shirt carelessly.

“Ah! Baek Pilsung, wait…”

As the oversized collar stretched, exposing his neck, Wooyoon clutched it with one hand and looked up at Pilsung, opening his mouth to introduce Jinwoo.

“It’s not that, this is…”

Unsure if Pilsung heard, he smirked and glared at Jinwoo, not seeming to recall him from the barbecue place. Wooyoon, frowning in frustration, tried to free his snagged shirt when a short siren blared nearby.

Police stepped out of a patrol car on the hill by the valley, pulling tasers from their belts as they descended to the water. They waved sharply at Pilsung’s group.

“Come to the shore and line up by that tree!”

The search order included Pilsung, facing off with Jinwoo over Wooyoon, but he didn’t release the sleeve gripped tight in his hand.

“You there! Step out this way!”

As the crew shuffled out with cocky attitudes, rattling off names and trait numbers to the cops, Pilsung ignored the whistle aimed at him, still staring Jinwoo down fiercely.

“Hmm… seen you somewhere. Who are you? You not letting go of that?”

Slightly frowning and tilting his head, Pilsung pointed his thick finger at Jinwoo’s hand on Wooyoon’s arm. Jinwoo tightened his grip under Pilsung’s looming shadow, voice lowering with force.

“Fuck, let go…”

“Hands behind your back and turn around.”

A taser barrel pressed into Pilsung’s back. Muttering a small “fuck,” he released Wooyoon’s sleeve. Eyes still locked on Jinwoo’s hand, he put his arms behind him. A cop gripped his wrists like cuffing him and dragged him out of the water.

Lined up at the end of his crew, Pilsung tilted his head back, spitting “fuck, fuck” at the sky. Wooyoon’s gaze followed him until Jinwoo shook his arm, prompting a sideways glance.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…?”

“Alphas are so dumb. Harassing random people. If they’re that desperate, they should stick to omegas, filthy…”

Jinwoo sneered at Pilsung’s crew getting ID’d one by one, then smiled at Wooyoon.

“You said you don’t like trips, but here you are on vacation. What a coincidence, huh? Where’s your group?”

“Did you… call them?”

“What?”

Wooyoon’s round eyes twisted defiantly as he looked up at Jinwoo.

“You reported him at the last dinner. Did you do it again?”

Startled by Wooyoon’s sharp glare, Jinwoo glanced around.

“No, it wasn’t me.”

Hearing that, Wooyoon pointed at the mart crew watching nearby.

“Then who? The mart hyungs and noonas?”

“It wasn’t us. But if ten alphas are harassing someone at a vacation spot, anyone would report it.”

“…….”

Lips sealed, Wooyoon met the eyes turned his way. Betas with families or lovers paused their water play, faces mixed with unease and displeasure, their stares like predators’ eyes in the dark—red glares waiting to tear apart and chase out anything different.

Avoiding the scary looks, Wooyoon scanned Pilsung’s crew—big, rough, crude in action and speech.

They’re here for me. Buying me good food, giving me meds, greeting me first, talking to me, bringing me on vacation, letting me laugh freely… They’ve helped me so much…

His slow gaze stopped. Wooyoon stared silently at Pilsung’s back as he was searched. His chest churned oddly, upset as if he were the one unfairly hauled off.

“…….”

“Where’s your group? I’ll take you to them.”

Pushing away Jinwoo’s tugging hand, Wooyoon mumbled.

“They’re… my group…”

“Huh?”

Shoving Jinwoo—who leaned in to hear better—Wooyoon turned and splashed out of the valley. Barefoot and frantic, he ran to Pilsung, hands clasped behind his head for the search, and stood between him and the cop.

“……!”

Pilsung, muttering curses with a bored look as a baton tapped his shorts pocket, saw Wooyoon pop up in front and widened his half-rolled eyes.

Glancing at Pilsung’s shocked face, Wooyoon swallowed hard and spoke to the cop.

“They’re with me.”

“What?”

The cop searching Pilsung took off his hat, put it back on, and frowned, clearly annoyed by Wooyoon’s sudden intrusion. Wooyoon repeated himself under the cop’s scrutinizing look.

“They’re my group. I don’t know who called, but it’s a misunderstanding. We were just… playing together.”

“Really with these guys? They’re all ex-cons.”

Another cop, done searching the line, approached and nudged his partner.

“Nine out of ten alphas have records, you know.”

“True…”

Leaning toward his agreeing colleague, the cop whispered.

“They’re on Seoul’s watchlist, but they’ve got nothing on them now… If we push and something turns up, it’ll fall on our precinct. It’s vacation season—tons of calls already. Let’s just go.”

Nudging each other and muttering, the cops looked down at Pilsung—still staring at Wooyoon—and said sternly,

“When you get to your lodging tonight, call the local station by midnight to report your location.”

“…….”

Too stunned to answer, Pilsung just gaped at Wooyoon.

He’d figured the unasked-for kiss pissed him off, but “group”? Wooyoon said it himself. Ran over barefoot to say they were just playing. Forced along with thugs, yet taking his side. Nam Wooyoon took Baek Pilsung’s side.

Wooyoon’s already pretty face looked even prettier. Pilsung wanted to hug him tight and kiss him everywhere. His sinking heart pounded so hard the sanity lost during that kiss showed no sign of returning.

Impatient for Pilsung’s reply, the cop asked, “Did you hear?” Finally, Pilsung raised a hand in acknowledgment, his lips curling into a grin.

“Phew…”

Wooyoon tracked the retreating patrol car with his eyes, letting out a small sigh of relief. It felt unfair—alphas searched over one beta’s call, no questions asked. Omegas like him too, probably. Forced to leave their innocence to the cops’ judgment.

Frowning in frustration, Wooyoon looked up at Pilsung. By now, he’d expect threats—ripping eyes out, grinding wrists, burning something—but it was quiet. Worried he’d pull a knife like before, Wooyoon peeked cautiously and met a smirking face.

“……?”

“Heh…”

Pilsung folded his fierce eye corners, grinning wide with a weird laugh. Wooyoon couldn’t fathom why he was in a good mood after his crew got treated like criminals and searched.

“Boss! Some fucker ruined the vibe—should we call it?”

Gidong shouted at Pilsung’s back, implying whoever reported should quiet down after hearing him. Vacationers, who’d paused to gawk at the commotion, finally lost interest and resumed their fun.

Jinwoo and the mart crew were packing up to move too. Wooyoon briefly considered explaining this to them but didn’t want to. He just felt bummed that the vacation’s rising mood had sunk. Sighing softly to Pilsung, he muttered,

“The watermelon… we should eat it…”

Pilsung, still beaming at Wooyoon, turned to Gidong.

“Fuck, we haven’t even played properly—quit for whose sake?”

At Pilsung’s word, the men let out a cheer and rushed into the valley water, splashing around like kids despite their hulking frames.

Pilsung sat on a dry rock, watching his rowdy crew.

“Sit.”

Half-perched on the rock, Pilsung patted the spot beside him. Wooyoon, eyeing Pilsung—who seemed even more excited than before the police showed up—sat a little distance away on the ground. Even though he didn’t follow the invitation and kept his space, Baek Pilsung just kept grinning endlessly.

Back at the pension, a water jousting game broke out to decide who’d prep dinner. Thanks to Pilsung’s blatant favoritism, Wooyoon advanced to the finals without a fight, munching on watermelon Pilsung had smashed open with his fist while leisurely watching the matches.

The tournament-style bouts grew serious as the alphas’ competitive streaks kicked in after each round. At times, they forgot they were on vacation, barking harsh shouts, but laughter erupted when Gidong—having made it to the semifinals—couldn’t withstand a tickle attack from the opposing team and plunged headfirst into the water. The office crew, and even Wooyoon, forgot the sour mood from the travelers’ report and laughed heartily.

“Try this.”

Pausing from the watermelon, Wooyoon—clutching his aching stomach from laughing too hard—looked as Pilsung thrust something toward him. Glancing at the red-and-green fruit, Wooyoon asked dully,

“What is it?”

On a vacation, there didn’t seem much point in eating anything besides watermelon. Despite Wooyoon’s lackluster reaction, Pilsung’s smile didn’t fade as he pulled a jackknife from his waistband and flicked it open.

“Mango.”

With a short reply, the folded blade snapped out menacingly. Wooyoon grumbled disapprovingly.

“Mango’s supposed to be yellow…”

“That’s regular mango. This is apple mango. Sweeter and tastier.”

The jackknife sliced into the apple mango’s belly. The yellow flesh, just like in pictures, peeked out. Seeing it, Wooyoon’s eyes lit up. Pilsung’s knife tip gained confidence, carving a grid into the fruit.

After slicing vertical and horizontal lines, he flipped the fruit inside its peel, and the flesh popped up like a turtle’s shell.

“Wow…”

Genuinely awed, Wooyoon took the apple mango Pilsung offered. The grid pattern he’d only seen in photos or videos came to life. Beyond the sweet scent, the shape was downright fascinating.

“How are you so good at this?”

“You like it?”

“Yeah. I always wanted to try it whenever I saw it on TV.”

“Eat it. Don’t bite the peel—just the flesh.”

Following Pilsung’s instructions, Wooyoon took a big bite of the bumpy, grid-cut pieces. The slippery, soft flesh slid down his throat with sweet juice before he could even chew.

“Good, right?”

Wooyoon barely nodded at Pilsung’s pleased question, hurriedly taking another bite. Sorry to the watermelon, but the apple mango’s sweetness was so perfect he could eat it all day.

Before he knew it, Wooyoon was pressed right up against Pilsung, devouring a second apple mango. Pilsung chuckled at the empty peel, stripped clean of flesh.

Noticing yellow juice trailing from Wooyoon’s wrist to his elbow, Pilsung smacked his lips lightly, paused wiping the sticky jackknife on his pants, and spoke casually.

“Hey, uh… that kiss earlier… you know. Why… aren’t you mad?”

“…….”

Licking juice from his fingers, Wooyoon glanced at Pilsung. Pilsung was folding and unfolding the knife, waiting for an answer.

There’d been no time to get mad. Jinwoo’s sudden appearance and the police had left no room to question why Pilsung rubbed lips with him in front of everyone.

But even if there’d been time, he wouldn’t have pressed it. He wasn’t angry. Unlike before, when Pilsung’s touches scared him, this time it didn’t. Was it the vacation high? That traveler’s leniency he’d heard about?

He didn’t know, but as he started to say he wasn’t mad, Gidong and the guys called Pilsung. The jousting match for dinner prep had reached its final round.

A guy splashed over and linked arms with Pilsung. Wooyoon, as directed, sat between their firmly locked arms, his feet lifting off the ground as the final started.

The opposing team swung long arms to snatch the hat on Wooyoon’s head. Clueless and weak, Wooyoon couldn’t resist much before losing it. No matter how strong Pilsung was, holding him up below, defeat was inevitable.

After a futile struggle and a mischievous shove, Wooyoon splashed into the water, eyes squeezed shut, sputtering as he stood. His rubber-band pants, not swimwear, sagged heavily down his thighs.

“Ahh! Hey!”

Pilsung rushed over, yelling, and yanked Wooyoon’s pants up. If it weren’t for Pilsung’s borrowed shirt, it’d have been a disaster.

“Fuck! Everyone close your eyes! Any bastard still looking wants their eyeballs gouged out!”

Clutching his pants, Wooyoon looked up at Pilsung—neck veins bulging as he roared—and giggled shyly. Meeting his eyes, Pilsung smirked and muttered low,

“Laughing? You little…”

Tying the drooping waistband tight, Pilsung let out a snort at the end.

Despite the jousting outcome, dinner prep became a group effort. Wooyoon washed veggies, Gidong started the fire, and the others bustled about. Pilsung, wearing an oven mitt on one hand, took the starring role: meat duty. He tirelessly grilled for the office crew’s hearty appetites.

As they barbecued in the pension’s front yard and drank, darkness fell fast. The smells of meat, cigarettes, and booze mingled. Pilsung, tongs in hand, placed thick pork neck slices on a fresh grill, spat out the cigarette stub between his teeth, and downed the soju left in his paper cup.

Wooyoon sat at a folding table, spooning army stew Gidong served, watching Pilsung—cheeks and forehead red from hours by the fire. Pilsung, upbeat since the valley, grinned wider with the booze. Wooyoon couldn’t grasp why Pilsung kept smirking at him every time their eyes met.

Avoiding the awkward stares, he bowed his head and sipped beer from a guy next to him. Then, Pilsung banged the tongs on the grill, peeled off the mitt, and raised a full soju cup high. The noisy chatter quieted, and all eyes—except Wooyoon’s—turned to him. Fiddling with his beer can, Wooyoon glanced at Pilsung holding the cup by the grill.

Surveying the hushed crew, Pilsung spoke.

“Some couldn’t make it, but isn’t it nice to gather like this?”

“Yes!” the crew answered in unison. Amid the crowd, Wooyoon nibbled his beer can, eyes darting at the unfamiliar scene. Pilsung smiled familiarly, cracking a joke.

“Gross, you punks.”

At that, the big guys chuckled in their own ways. To the playful crew, Pilsung’s tone grew earnest.

“I like spending time with you guys too. Let’s enjoy till morning without worries, then back home, stay sharp and run hard.”

“Yes!”

“Last toast, then do whatever till time’s up.”

Pilsung led the Baek Pilsung office’s chant.

“Hundred times!”

The men raised their drinks and roared,

“We always win!”

Startled by the thunderous response, Wooyoon instinctively lifted his can. The guys downed their drinks and, as Pilsung said, scattered to chat and play. Some grabbed an abandoned volleyball and split teams for foot volleyball in the pension’s yard.

One side kept drinking, another traded dumb jokes. Amid the chaos, Wooyoon set his can down as Pilsung approached.

“Let’s get some air.”

“…….”

Staring at the big hand offered, Wooyoon grabbed it without hesitation.

His boozy steps wobbled. Stumbling out of the pension, a path emerged beside the night-drenched valley. Lit by moonlight, it buzzed slightly with the nearby stream.

Holding Pilsung’s hand, Wooyoon looked up. As Pilsung had said, stars—unseen in the city—twinkled brightly. Always there, yet tonight they shone extra vivid, both wondrous and odd.

“Not cold?”

Swinging their loosely linked hands, Pilsung asked quietly as they walked. Wooyoon shook his head.

“Warm from drinking.”

“Eat a lot?”

“You saw.”

“What?”

“You kept staring.”

“Nah? Too busy grilling to notice.”

Wooyoon shot a side-eye at Pilsung’s childish nitpicking. Chuckling throatily, Pilsung tugged him to a bench overlooking the stream.

The path down wasn’t steep, but Pilsung still held Wooyoon’s arm and waist. Wooyoon pouted at the over-the-top care but didn’t complain like usual.

Sitting side by side, words faded, and the stream’s sound filled the silence, joined faintly by crickets. Maybe the booze, but he felt at ease. So much had happened, yet it felt like nothing had. Like a dream. Or maybe now was the dream.

Blinking blankly, Wooyoon asked out of the blue,

“When’d you first start being a thug?”

Pilsung, toying with Wooyoon’s hand on his thigh, snorted through his nose.

“You remember when you first started eating?”

Wooyoon shook his head slowly. Pressing Wooyoon’s tiny nails, Pilsung looked up, gaze lost in the distant sky.

“You eat when it’s time. I became a thug when it was time—how do you remember that?”

“…….”

“Most alphas end up thugs. Stick with the same kind and live well, you’re a thug. Mess up alone, kill someone, rot in jail.”

“…….”

“My old man was some professor, you know?”

Pilsung, reeking of booze, dug into rare old tales.

“That bastard beat me to death. Don’t even know when it started—just getting hit was my job.”

“Why…”

Frowning, Wooyoon asked cautiously. Pilsung rolled his eyes from the distance to glance at him, then smirked.

“Guess he knew I’d be an alpha. Even before traits showed, I looked like one.”

“But you’re a beta!”

“…Yeah, sure.”

Realizing late he hadn’t revealed his trait to Wooyoon, Pilsung scratched his neck and continued.

“Anyway, he probably thought he had to tame me early. Once I turned alpha, I’d be uncontrollable.”

“…….”

“Till eleven, I got hit with every damn thing under him. Took that beating, then ran away.”

“…….”

“Lived day-to-day begging on the streets. Sixteen, maybe? Got back in touch with him.”

Pilsung cleared his throat with a “hmm,” a bit sheepish.

“Fuck, he said he missed me ‘cause we’re family? Like a dumbass, I crawled back to the house I’d fled to not die. Went, got beat to shit again, and only broke free after he croaked.”

“…….”

From the brief tale, Wooyoon couldn’t fully picture Baek Pilsung’s life. That this giant, intimidating man had fled his father’s abuse and returned for family ties, repeating misery, felt unreal.

He’d thought only weak, pitiful types like him did that—unable to cut off abusive kin, begging for love, getting hurt again and again.

Wooyoon recalled Pilsung’s words at the indoor fishing spot.

-Don’t forgive ‘cause they’re family. That makes it worse. Betrayed by friends, family, whatever—don’t think about that. Just one thing: what’d that fucking bastard take from me… Think that, and you can pay it back.

Young Baek Pilsung must’ve forgiven his abusive father under “family,” hoping against hope for change despite knowing better.

Just like Nam Wooyoon had.

Wavering on what to do about his brother, Wooyoon’s mind tipped one way. As if driving it home, Pilsung looked him straight in the eyes.

“Like I promised, I’ll catch Nam Heejae. If you’re gonna repeat dumb shit, tell me.”

“…….”

“Don’t end up with this like me.”

Lifting his chin slightly, Pilsung pointed to the scar running straight down his throat.

“…….”

“…….”

Staring at the scar, Wooyoon pulled his hand free and reached out, tracing Pilsung’s neck gently. He couldn’t fathom the heat or redness of the resentment and sorrow that must’ve bled under that sharp blade.

Pilsung let Wooyoon’s tickling touch roam his neck, then twisted his brow and smiled faintly.

“Keep touching, and it’s a hotspot—I might get hard.”

Frowning, Wooyoon yanked his hand back. Not a lie to tease, but the disgusted look was cute, so Pilsung chuckled.

Since the valley play, he’d had a good feeling. Wooyoon’s attitude toward him was definitely different. Knowing how much Nam Wooyoon disliked him, he’d sworn off reading signals, but today, anyone would bet on it.

There was hope today.

Mulling how to revisit the unanswered kiss from morning, Wooyoon spoke first.

“Why do you wear sunglasses?”

Snapped from his thoughts, Pilsung realized his bare eyes, cursed “fuck,” and rubbed them. He’d left the sunglasses off grilling in the dark.

Covering his eyes like someone insecure, Pilsung answered,

“’Cause you fucking… hate my eyes.”

“Did I say that?”

“Did I say that? Yes, you did. You’d cringe every time they met.”

“Not scared anymore…”

“…….”

Peering through his hand, Pilsung slowly lowered it.

“If you’re not scared?”

“…….”

“If you’re not scared… how’s it feel?”

Pilsung held his breath, staring at Wooyoon’s face, blue in the moonlight. The loud stream faded. Only Wooyoon’s breaths, his lips’ movements, mattered.

The lips, twitching as if to reply, closed again. Swallowing dryly, Pilsung asked,

“When I kissed you earlier… how was it…?”

At the low voice, Wooyoon met the eyes staring into his.

Not scary. Not gross. Not bad. Not just the kiss—all day. Maybe… lately.

Quietly gazing into Pilsung’s eyes, Wooyoon answered slowly.

“Didn’t feel anything.”

“…….”

“Didn’t feel anything.”

Pilsung’s locked gaze wavered slightly.

“Didn’t… feel anything?”

“Yeah.”

“Ha, damn…”

Letting out a faint, dry laugh, Pilsung rubbed his face like a wash. Then, wordless, he pressed his lips with his fingertips, eyes scanning the night sky and valley. Wooyoon blankly watched Pilsung’s giggling face harden.

“…Let’s go. Sober now, it’s cold.”

Standing first, Pilsung shoved his hands in his pockets instead of offering one and turned. Wooyoon followed him up the path, keeping distance where they’d walked side by side.

Stepping where Pilsung had, Wooyoon met the crew and unfamiliar faces at the path’s end. Pilsung asked first,

“What’s this? Who’re they?”

At his sunken tone, the crew with the strangers straightened up.

“Staying at the same pension. Omegas. A few are joining us. Send ‘em off?”

“…….”

Glancing at Wooyoon, Pilsung eyed an omega tucked under a guy’s arm, then frowned and sighed.

“Do what you want, just keep it quiet.”

“Yes, boss! Thank you!”

Pilsung waved at the bowing men and crossed the yard into the pension. Left alone, Wooyoon peeked at the pretty male omega, then walked on.

Passing them, a whisper hit his ears.

“Your boss is cool. Can I follow?”

“Our boss? Not now. He’s taken.”

Not mocking, but hearing himself mentioned, Wooyoon flushed and quickened his pace, leaving the giggles behind.

After the walk, the yard held only a few guys, including Gidong, drinking. Pilsung was gone, and Wooyoon—lost on where to go—was stopped by Gidong’s “Sister-in-law.”

“Don’t go in—sit here.”

“I was gonna wash up and rest…”

“Inside’s busy with the guys banging. Pass by, and trouble starts. Alphas lose it, can’t even recognize their own dad.”

Recalling the crew guy and strange omega, Wooyoon hesitated with a red face, then joined Gidong’s table. Gidong poured him soju with polite posture.

“…….”

Not wanting more booze, Wooyoon eyed Gidong chatting across the table, sipping just enough to wet his tongue. Despite not swallowing, he shamelessly grimaced and faked a “kya.” Gidong, lighting a cigarette, glanced over and said,

“Go easy on the boss.”

“Huh?”

“You two fighting again? His face looked murderous…”

Gidong trailed off, puffing smoke. Wooyoon whipped his head to the pension. He couldn’t decipher Gidong’s words.

Baek Pilsung, mad? When?

Did Gidong see wrong? His narrowed eyes fixed on the pension.

Baek Pilsung grinned at him while grilling. Even on the walk, he’d teased with childish wordplay. The childhood talk got heavy, but not “murderous” like Gidong said. If anything, he seemed in a good mood.

“Ah…”

Retracing Pilsung’s actions, Wooyoon let out a blank sound, mouth agape. Come to think of it, Pilsung didn’t hold his hand returning from the walk. They didn’t walk side by side, and now he wasn’t here. Normally, he’d cling, pestering him…

Turning with a frown, Wooyoon faced the pension.

He’d bought meals, a bag, brought him to the valley—grateful, Wooyoon had tried to repay him by saying he wasn’t scared anymore. So why was Pilsung mad? Thugs were fickle, sure, but today’s mood swing baffled him.

Stuck outside thanks to Gidong’s hint about the crew and omegas taking over, Wooyoon sat idly, fiddling with chopsticks instead of drinking. Growing bored and about to stand, Pilsung reappeared from the pension.

Freshly washed, his usually swept-back hair fell naturally, and his clothes had changed since the walk. Beside him was a man—clearly an omega, not from the office.

The omega, shaking wet hair—sweat or water—sat at a table a bit away from Wooyoon’s. Pilsung followed, brushing back his hair, glancing at Wooyoon mid-motion.

“…….”

“…….”

Their eyes met briefly. Looking away, Pilsung tossed logs into the dying drum fire and joined the omega’s table.

The omega sidled up to Pilsung, who sat at the table’s edge. A clear, purposeful pheromone wafted to Wooyoon’s nose. Gidong and the drinking crew noticed too, eyes turning as they caught the omega’s blatant scent aimed at Pilsung.

Gidong sensed trouble. Normally, the boss should be by Nam Wooyoon, head propped, smiling only at him, eyes only on him—but now he ignored him. Even the densest guy couldn’t miss this.

Another of the boss’s love tactics—holding back when he should step in, jumping when he should wait? Would it work again? If so, Gidong’d cleanly admit Pilsung’s game was better.

But emerging side-by-side with a strange omega from a pension busy with banging—wasn’t that risky?

Gidong trusted Pilsung wouldn’t stoop to cheating while leaving his “sister-in-law” out here, but this screamed misunderstanding. Plus, delivering food daily had made him fond of Wooyoon. He felt hurt by the boss’s indifference, like it was his own issue.

Pouting, Gidong turned to Wooyoon.

“Sister-in-law, should I make space? Wanna talk to him?”

Ready for a scolding for overstepping, he got no reply. Wooyoon’s eyes were on the other table.

Wooyoon stared at Pilsung and the omega, ears straining. Despite the quiet after the noisy drinkers vanished, their chatter didn’t carry clearly—just the omega’s loud laughs stoking curiosity.

“Haha, really?”

The omega laughed loudly, releasing seductive pheromones and placing a hand on Pilsung’s thigh. Pilsung brushed it off with his cigarette hand. It happened a few more times—his careless swats showed annoyance, yet he didn’t leave or join Wooyoon’s table.

Anyway, Baek Pilsung’s a beta—can’t even smell pheromones.

“…….”

Lips tight, Wooyoon gripped his chopsticks, snapping them with a sharp “tak” on the table. Gidong, eyeing Wooyoon’s blank face and the omega’s flirty moves with displeasure, stood half-up, resolved.

“Sister-in-law, I’ll say something to him. Even if he’s mad, this ain’t right in front of you, yeah?”

“No, I’m fine…”

Shaking his head to stop Gidong, Wooyoon recalled Pilsung’s eyes on the bench, asking back.

-Didn’t… feel anything?

Remembering those hurt, trembling eyes under the moonlight, Wooyoon realized Pilsung’s shift started then. But why that answer angered him remained a mystery.

Staring at Pilsung—sulking beside the omega’s subtle touches—Wooyoon stood.

“Going over yourself?”

Gidong asked, face brightening. Wooyoon shook his head.

“Gonna go inside.”

“Huh? It’s kinda… busy in there. Maybe wait…”

“…It’s not fun…”

Mumbling softly, Wooyoon left the table. Feeling eyes on his back, he strode across the yard.

Not fun. A day so full of new experiences he’d lost track of time, yet now it felt dull. Summer vacation suddenly seemed flat. That traveler’s leniency? Forgotten. Weird.

Entering the pension, Wooyoon reached for his room’s door but flinched at the lewd moans inside, pulling back. He opened the next room instead.

There, drunk office guys slept shirtless, reeking of booze and untamed alpha scent. Wincing and pinching his nose, Wooyoon headed to the bathroom.

Even locking the door didn’t ease his nerves. He didn’t think Pilsung’s crew would harm him, but omega instincts kicked in.

Glancing at the locked handle, he washed quickly and stepped out. The sprawled bodies had multiplied.

Sighing at the unwashed men tangled in the dark, he hadn’t planned on spending a night among alphas. Too reckless. Trusted Baek Pilsung too much…

Laughable, trusting a thug.

On tiptoes, Wooyoon navigated their gaps to the edge, draped a towel over his face, and lay down.

The alpha smell’s making me queasy…

Turning away, he pressed against the wall, frowning under the towel. The pheromones, unmasked by cloth, made his heart race anxiously. Gidong’s creepy “alphas lose it” warning amplified it.

Forehead against the wall, nearly one with it, Wooyoon tried to sleep. But moans from next door—flesh slapping, indistinguishable cries from multiple voices, at least three or four—kept him awake.

…Is Baek Pilsung there too?

Recalling Pilsung with the clingy omega, Wooyoon lifted his forced-shut eyes. Ears tuned to the raucous sounds beyond the wall, he blinked slowly under the towel.

Was saying the kiss didn’t bother him that upsetting? What answer did Baek Pilsung want?

That it was good?

No way it was. Liking it was Pilsung’s deal, not Wooyoon’s heart. If he got mad over not hearing that, Wooyoon might get mad back.

A thug once scary and hated now felt a bit comfortable, a bit close—yet kissing him out of nowhere and sulking over no “it was good” felt unfair. After all the fuss about liking him, casually touching others—did Baek Pilsung even have the right to be mad?

Says he likes me, then ditches me like this…

Frowning at the galling thug, the door creaked open. Blocking the unwanted pheromones with one hand, Wooyoon rolled his eyes under the towel.

The intruder rustled toward him. Unseen, but felt.

“……!”

A hot body pressed against Wooyoon’s back and hips as he faced the wall. The moment a big hand wrapped his waist, his body stiffened. Too shocked, even his racing heart froze.

Who? Wrong room? Or on purpose…

Swallowing dryly under the towel, Wooyoon squeezed out a shaky voice.

“D… don’t…”

Mustering courage, he nudged the thick wrist on his flat stomach. It didn’t budge—instead, it pulled him closer with force. His lean frame slid back helplessly into the man’s embrace. Biting his lip, Wooyoon trembled.

Scary. So scary…

Pilsung’s crew, fearless with him around, now terrified him. His racing mind painted even Gidong as a threat. Shaking, he stifled a whimper, when a familiar voice rumbled low in his ear.

“You said it didn’t matter.”

Pilsung. At the voice, Wooyoon yanked the towel off and turned to face him.

“…….”

“…….”

In the dark room, too dim to read expressions, they stared silently. Blocking the snoring crew from Wooyoon, Pilsung lifted the hand on his stomach slowly.

Fingertips brushed his eyes. Tracing gently, Pilsung laid his palm on Wooyoon’s soft cheek. Staring unwaveringly into the shadowed face, Wooyoon felt the cold ring and whispered,

“Are you mad…?”

Stroking the small cheek his hand engulfed, Pilsung replied,

“Nah. I’m sulking.”

“…….”

“I’m sulking, punk.”

Answering low, Pilsung moved from cheek to lips, brushing them with his thumb. The slightly parted lips yielded limply. He asked quietly,

“How’d the kiss not matter to you?”

Curious. His heart had leaped, cheeks flushed with excitement—did Wooyoon feel nothing, not even a speck?

A small, pitiful thing. He wanted to take this battered, discarded little thing and cherish it, love it. But it wouldn’t bend. It hurt his pride, wounded him. By something so much smaller, so pitiful.

Love, new to him, was damn tough for Pilsung.

Pressing Wooyoon’s lips with his fingertips, he said hotly,

“You pick me up.”

“…….”

“You won’t get picked up, so pick me up a bit.”

In the dark, he found Wooyoon’s hand, trapping the fist clutching the towel in his palm, kneading it gently, pleading,

“I’ll behave.”

“…….”

Wooyoon closed his slightly open mouth and eyes. Fatigue, unnoticed amid discomfort and tension, crashed in. The alphas’ pheromones unsettling his chest faded, replaced by Pilsung’s faint skin and soap scent, lulling him to deep sleep. Limbs heavy, mind foggy. He should answer, but moving a finger felt impossible.

…What was he going to say?

As consciousness blurred under the kneading hand, Wooyoon breathed evenly, relaxed. Whatever he’d meant to say to Pilsung slipped away, leaving only relief.

Baek Pilsung wasn’t mad at Nam Wooyoon. Didn’t mess around with a strange omega. Baek Pilsung still liked Nam Wooyoon.

Summer vacation was still fun.

“…….”

Pilsung spent a long while touching Wooyoon, who had fallen soundly asleep. He tousled his hair, stroked his cheek, and even pressed his lips with his fingers, tinged with a hint of mischief.

Bad little punk. Sleeping so well without even answering.

“Pretty punk…”

Whispering to himself, Pilsung leaned in. He pressed his lips to the forehead of the deeply sleeping Wooyoon and pulled the small body into his embrace. At that, Wooyoon seemed to sniff in his sleep, then buried his face into Pilsung’s chest.

While mussing the hair of Wooyoon, who slept obediently in his arms, Pilsung checked the pile of messages on his phone. The light from the screen faintly distorted his face in the darkness. The message that irritated Pilsung came from the dock management team in Incheon.

They’d sent a report claiming they’d caught Nam Heejae, along with a photo. In the picture, Nam Heejae was kneeling, his face swollen from a few hits.

“Ha, this fuck…”

Grumbling discontentedly, Pilsung typed a reply.

「Why the fuck did you touch him without permission? I’ll stop by right after vacation, so keep him in check.」

After sending the message, Pilsung set the phone by his head and pulled the sleeping Wooyoon even closer.

He wouldn’t lay a hand on Nam Heejae until Wooyoon decided what to do with him. But he planned to meet him first, to gauge Heejae’s mental state. Letting Wooyoon face him without that check would be a mistake—Nam Heejae, that crazy bastard, would spew nonsense for sure. Even without that, Nam Wooyoon, naive and soft-hearted, wouldn’t stand a chance against his brother’s bullshit.

Gotta rough him up just enough to prevent that.

Mentally mapping out tomorrow—dropping Wooyoon home, then heading straight to Incheon—Pilsung shifted his hips, rubbing his groin lightly against Wooyoon’s leg pressed against him. A heavy breath escaped his throat.

“Ha…, fuck…. Pretty punk…”

Having already decided to play the fool, he figured a lack of sweet words wouldn’t change much. With small thrusts, he rubbed his center against Wooyoon’s thigh a few more times, then kissed the round head.

As long as I can see his face, feed him, touch him like this… that’s enough…