Love Born of Pity Chapter 13

The rut, which had lingered like the relentless monsoon season, finally came to an end. Do Yeonjae, his face refreshed by the absence of heightened sensitivity, got out of bed. On his way to the bathroom to wash his body, which was stained with dried fluids, he abruptly stopped and looked back.

“Mr. Kwon Jiho.”

Jiho’s body, barely covered by the thin sheet that had slipped down to his waist, was a mess of marks. Bite marks covered every exposed area, dense enough to suggest Yeonjae had intended to devour him. It would have been better if he had stopped at biting. He had drawn blood and then persistently sucked on the wounds, leaving them covered in bluish bruises.

Did I hit him? That can’t be. Yeonjae turned and went back to where he had been lying moments before. He sat on the edge of the bed and took Jiho’s hand. He chuckled, admitting to himself that he must have really wanted to consume Jiho, seeing his own bite marks even on Jiho’s fingers.

‘D-don’t eat me…’

No wonder the pathetically pleading voice remained so vivid in his memory. Even as Yeonjae gently stroked the scabbed areas, Jiho didn’t open his eyes. He was fast asleep, his brow smooth and relaxed. His shoulders, usually so pale they were almost translucent, had lost their color.

Unconsciously, Yeonjae stroked his own lips. He carefully took Jiho’s bruised skin in his hand and gently shook it. Jiho’s brow furrowed. A soft, breathy moan escaped him.

Yeonjae decided to examine Jiho’s body before washing himself. Forgetting his thirst, he pulled down the thin sheet. Jiho’s buttocks, the only fleshy part of his body, were red as if they had been beaten. Well, they practically had been, after days of relentless sex.

From his shoulders down his smooth back, along his slender thighs, calves, and ankles, the marks were less the remnants of lovemaking and more the scars of brutal abuse. Yeonjae frowned. Even when out of his mind, he had never marked someone so extensively during sex, yet this had become the norm since meeting Kwon Jiho.

If his back was in this state, what about the front? Frowning, Yeonjae reached down. He gripped Jiho’s rounded buttocks and pulled them apart. Jiho’s eyelids fluttered. Yeonjae waited, expecting him to wake, but his eyes remained closed.

Yeonjae spread Jiho’s buttocks, revealing the swollen, whitish opening, soaked in fluids. It was so damaged that a finger wouldn’t fit, yet the sight only aroused him further.

He recalled the feeling of penetrating the narrow opening, the tight, hot mucous membrane clinging to his cock. The sight of the semen leaking from the still-gaping hole tightened his lower body once again.

“D-Director…?”

At the raspy voice, Yeonjae looked up from his examination. Jiho’s pale face was flushed only on his lips, which had been constantly pressed together. Even those were cracked and chapped at the corners, a pitiful sight. His eyes, swollen from incessant crying, could barely open.

Extending a limp arm, Kwon Jiho instinctively reached for Yeonjae. More childish clinging. Yeonjae leaned over and embraced him as usual. Jiho relaxed into his arms, then flinched as he felt Yeonjae’s hardened cock against his lower body.

“How’s your body?”

“It hurts. Really… It really hurts…”

His voice trembled, filled with the preemptive fear of more sex. He nuzzled his cheek against Yeonjae’s chest, fluttering his eyelashes pathetically, repeating that he was in pain. Yeonjae stroked Jiho’s cheek, thinking that since the doctor was coming anyway, one more time wouldn’t hurt. But the thought vanished as he heard Jiho’s stomach growl.

“I’m… hungry, too.”

Kwon Jiho, who rarely ate anything on his own, gulped as if starving.

“Stay here. I’ll wash you soon.”

“…Are you… alright now, Director?”

Who’s worried about whom? Who’s the one looking like a rag doll?

“Why, if I say I’m not alright, will Mr. Kwon Jiho do more for me?”

“……”

“Wait.”

Jiho had assumed Yeonjae would force him again, regardless of his wishes. But Yeonjae returned from the bathroom wearing a robe. His gaze swept over Jiho, trembling on the bed, then moved away. He strode across the room and opened the door.

Until then, Jiho’s eyes had been fixed on Yeonjae’s back, anxiously holding his breath in case he changed his mind. Only after the click of the closing door did he exhale, relieved. He planned to catch his breath and then get up to examine his own body.

At least he could move his limbs without difficulty. As he propped himself up on his arms to sit up, he winced at the bite marks on his fingers.

“…Seriously.”

Throughout the rut, he had been afraid Yeonjae would bite his fingers off. Even when he protested, Yeonjae acted as if he couldn’t hear. His fingers, the back of his hands, his wrists, arms, and forearms were covered in Yeonjae’s bite marks, all darkening into bruises.

At least he hadn’t woken up with an IV in his arm this time, so was that an improvement? His limbs trembled as he pushed himself up, his hands and knees on the bed like an animal. As he exhaled, something sticky trickled down his thigh. Unable to bring himself to look, Jiho buried his face in the pillow. He remembered Yeonjae’s words during the rut.

‘You might get pregnant at this rate.’
‘A beta should get pregnant after I’ve cum inside this much, Mr. Kwon Jiho.’
‘Why aren’t you pregnant when I’m cumming this deep inside you? Tell me you want to get pregnant.’

Even when Jiho protested and said he couldn’t, Yeonjae had acted like a madman. Exhausted, he had eventually given in, repeating countless times that he wanted to get pregnant, asking Yeonjae to impregnate him, to knot him. Every time Yeonjae came inside him, he’d mutter about Jiho getting pregnant, and Yeonjae would smile in satisfaction.

He was always a pervert, but… Jiho shuddered, recalling fragmented memories of the past few days. He was thankful the rut didn’t happen every month.

“…It hurts.”

He had no feeling below his waist, and the unspeakable place was especially uncomfortable. Could he even stand? His legs were shaking so much; what if he fell? The thought was terrifying. Jiho propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned against it.

“Ugh…”

Just moving his arms made him groan. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, and began to doze. The bedroom door opened. He jerked his head up, trying to appear awake, but his vision swam, and he slumped forward.

“Tsk.”

“…Director.”

“Mr. Kwon Jiho, your stamina never improves.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jiho lowered his head at Yeonjae’s cool, indifferent tone. Yeonjae effortlessly lifted Jiho’s light body and propped him against his chest, placing a tray on his thigh.

“Eat.”

Although the position was uncomfortable, Jiho remained still, sensing Yeonjae’s relatively good mood. He didn’t want to provoke him.

“Thank you.”

Relaxing against Yeonjae’s chest, Jiho rested his head against his neck and popped a grape into his mouth, wincing slightly. His lips stung. He couldn’t tell if they were chapped or torn.

His weak hands trembled as he ate. While Yeonjae casually checked his phone, Jiho finished a whole bunch of grapes, his swollen lips working busily. Contrary to Yeonjae’s expectation that Jiho would pick at his food, he ate with focused attention, occasionally catching Yeonjae’s eye.

The sight of his puffed cheeks and juice-stained lips reminded him of a small animal, though he couldn’t quite place which one. Of course, no such animal existed. There wasn’t even a person who looked like that, let alone an animal.

Jiho looked up at the sound of laughter above him. His clear, bright eyes, full of curiosity, reflected the light.

“Mr. Kwon Jiho.”

“Yes.”

He answered but received no further response. He picked up another piece of fruit. The orange juice burst in his mouth, sweet and tangy, the pulp cool as it slid down his throat. While he diligently finished the blueberries and watermelon, Yeonjae touched his shoulders, waist, and fingers.

Should I tell him after he’s washed? Or is it better to tell him now? Among the messages on his phone was news he needed to share with Jiho. It was trivial to him, but it would be a big deal for Jiho, and the thought of him worrying irritated Yeonjae.

“Director?”

At the questioning tone, Yeonjae checked the marks on Jiho’s neck and behind his ear. Could he take him out looking like this? He traced the dense cluster of marks trailing from Jiho’s earlobe down his neck.

“…What is it?”