Humanity Chapter 1.2 - Secret

Han Jiwan lowered himself and gently kissed Yimyeong’s neck. Unlike the firm muscles beneath, the soft skin was intensely sucked and licked by the pressure of his lips. At the same time, as if refusing to allow any resistance, he tightly gripped both of Yimyeong’s arms and pinned them to the floor.

All Yimyeong could do was turn his head aside with all his strength to signal his refusal. Even that was difficult, as his entire body felt heavy and unresponsive.

Han Jiwan, heedless of Yimyeong’s struggle, slowly moved his lips downward. Yimyeong clenched his fists tightly as the sensation of Han Jiwan’s full lips grazed along the contours of his body. When Han Jiwan deliberately coated his nipple with saliva, sucking and teasingly gripping his chest, Yimyeong felt a burning shame so intense his eyes grew hot. Rather than cry, he considered biting his tongue, glaring at Han Jiwan. Han Jiwan’s face, absorbed in savoring the smooth skin, continued to move lower.

“Not further down.”

He didn’t want to beg, but he had to make it stop. Yimyeong squeezed out his voice and pleaded with him.

“Direc…tor… Director!”

“Jiwan.”

Han Jiwan corrected his title in a flat tone. Yimyeong, panting, glared at him.

“I’d rather die than let it be discovered. Please!”

His sweatpants were pulled down, revealing his underwear. The moment Han Jiwan licked his lips at the sight of what lay beneath, Yimyeong, like a beast hit by a tranquilizer dart, groaned heavily and forced himself to rise.

Thud!

His fist landed squarely on Han Jiwan’s jaw. Seeing Han Jiwan stagger back, Yimyeong felt no fear. His time working here was over. He couldn’t stay in a place where his secret risked exposure. This man was no longer his employer.

Of course, a job this good wouldn’t come easily.

“Ugh…”

Yimyeong forced his body, which felt three times heavier under gravity, to stand. If his legs wouldn’t cooperate, he’d roll down the stairs to escape if he had to.

That’s when it happened.

“You little bastard.”

“Guh…”

His hair was yanked from behind, snapping his neck back. Han Jiwan, blood dripping from one side of his mouth, painfully gripped Yimyeong’s hair.

“Trying to turn me on more? I was going to be gentle since it’s your first time.”

“Ugh… Let go! Let me go…!”

“Hyung, if you do this, I… I can’t hold back. I really don’t like rape, but how can you excite me like this?”

“Agh!”

Han Jiwan suddenly threw Yimyeong’s head to the floor as if discarding it. As Yimyeong reeled from a mild concussion, Han Jiwan climbed onto him again, pressing down on his waist.

Then he tightly gripped Yimyeong’s throat with both hands, as if allowing no resistance.

“Ugh, kuh… hck, ngh.”

Yimyeong grabbed at the hands choking him, struggling to pull them off. But the hands, clamped with immense strength, didn’t budge. His limit came quickly. His chest heaved uselessly, desperate for air, and saliva dripped from his mouth, wetting his dry lips.

“Guh… kuh… hck!”

“Beautiful.”

Han Jiwan gazed rapturously at Yimyeong’s rapidly paling face and reddened eyes.

Not long after his breathing was forcibly cut off, Yimyeong began frantically scratching at Han Jiwan’s arms and wrists. Blue veins bulged on the back of Yimyeong’s hands as his short nails clawed. His entire focus was on breathing, oblivious to Han Jiwan’s other hand pulling down his pants.

Han Jiwan’s hand reached into the warmth and slight moisture between Yimyeong’s legs, beneath his pants and underwear. He gripped Yimyeong’s robust genitals and scrotum, befitting his tall, sturdy frame, with satisfaction. It was a penis enticing enough to suck.

Then his hand moved lower, finding the tight anus and pressing firmly at its entrance.

But something felt off about the delicate skin of the perineum brushed by his fingers.

“…What’s this.”

Han Jiwan’s brow furrowed as he touched the perineum again.

“What the hell is this.”

But Yimyeong was beyond responding. His chest swelled to its limit, his eyes rolling back, showing the whites. His pale body twitched, then began trembling finely. The extreme arousal from breath control had taken over.

When properly choked, the victim can experience an intense orgasm. Proving this, Yimyeong’s erect penis began to ejaculate.

At the same time, between the perineum where Han Jiwan’s hand lingered, a gush of thin, viscous liquid spurted out. His hand grew wet. Han Jiwan’s long eyelashes trembled.

“Fuck… ha.”

He rubbed the soft, slick texture of the perineum secreting clear fluid. He’d heard of their existence but had never seen one with his own eyes—a male omega. This might be it, right before him.

As confusion and shock subsided, unbridled joy settled on Han Jiwan’s face.

“Heh… hahaha!”

He trembled with delight. He had only meant to find the back entrance. He wanted to probe the elastic membrane hidden within this sturdy, solid body. He thought conquering this perfectly appealing physique would be satisfying.

But he’d caught an even bigger prize.

“Hck, hah…”

Meanwhile, Yimyeong was swimming in a painful, prolonged climax. He exhaled sharply, then gulped air as if his lungs would burst. Unaware he was sprawled on the floor with his chest and groin exposed, he trembled violently, gasping for breath.

Han Jiwan looked at Yimyeong’s dazed face with affection. He probably couldn’t see anything. He was likely swimming in intense pleasure he’d never experienced. Han Jiwan, proud of the pleasure he’d given, withdrew his hand from Yimyeong’s slick lower body.

“I picked the right guy.”

Han Jiwan raised his fingers, examining their glossy, wet surface.

Tasting them with his tongue, he thought they might have a sweet flavor.

“They say omegas each have a unique scent.”

Han Jiwan savored the taste deeply, as if exploring it.

“Hck, kuh, haa, cough…”

Finally released from the climax, Yimyeong curled up, coughing heavily. With the thread of rationality left, he thought he had to escape now. But his drugged body, having endured extreme tension and pleasure, refused to move as he wished.

“I have to crawl out if I must.” But flipping his heavy body with a thud was his limit.

Han Jiwan’s voice brushed past Yimyeong’s ear as he lay face down.

“Hyung, are you an ‘omega’?”

Hearing the gleeful voice, Yimyeong’s consciousness blacked out.

‧₊˚

Omegas and alphas.

All existing things proclaim their existence by being named. Vague entities once called mutants, variants, or new humans were named “alphas and omegas” just five years ago.

Yimyeong had manifested as an omega nine years ago, at fifteen. The concept of “manifestation” didn’t even exist then.

At first, he thought it was just a bad flu. His body shivered at school, and by the time he got home, his uniform was soaked with cold sweat. Despite it being summer, he felt a biting chill.

That night, pain like his bones were grinding and his skin was tearing apart struck him. But there was no one to call for help. His sick father was in the hospital, and his mother, working to support the family, was out in the early morning, leaving the house empty.

Always healthy, never even catching a cold, Yimyeong couldn’t gauge how severe his pain was or if it warranted an ambulance. When he could barely move, he crawled out of his soaked bedding and poured painkillers into his mouth.

But they didn’t work. In his foggy mind, he recalled when the painkillers were bought. They might be expired, their efficacy gone. He believed the pain persisted despite the pills because of that, unaware of the fever’s true cause.

The next morning, he woke to his mother’s worried face shaking his shoulder.

“Yimyeong, are you sick?”

Seeing her face, tangled with worry, guilt, and exhaustion, he couldn’t act childish.

“Should we go to the hospital?”

He shook his head.

“It’s probably a cold. I’ll be fine after a few days’ rest.”

Relief flickered across her face. Knowing he’d reassured her, Yimyeong felt a small relief too.

After his mother left for work, Yimyeong made porridge in the empty house. It was his first meal in two days. But as soon as it hit his stomach, wrenching pain forced him to vomit it up. He cleaned up the undigested remnants himself.

After a week of suffering, the flu-like symptoms thankfully subsided. He hadn’t gone to the hospital or taken medicine, but like most colds, it passed. Or so he thought.

“What’s this.”

While washing later, Yimyeong felt a strange sensation between his legs. Where there should’ve been just flesh, he found a thin crevice. In the spot where he’d felt slicing pain, there was an unfamiliar mark, as if someone had carved it.

At first, he thought it was a skin condition or a wound. But slipping a finger into the narrow gap, he felt a texture like the inside of lips—a mucous membrane.

“Ugh…”

Yimyeong groaned unconsciously at the foreign sensation. His hands trembled. He stood under the shower for a long time. His mind froze. It was so surreal it felt like floating between dream and reality. His head spun.

“No way.”

Even though it was his body, Yimyeong fiercely denied it. It was a change he couldn’t accept.

Let’s pretend it doesn’t exist.

It was just a flu. He dismissed it as such.

The school he returned to after a week was unchanged. No one suspected his transformation.

After this realization, Yimyeong gradually stabilized. He avoided shared bathrooms as much as possible, using stalls with toilets when necessary. The innermost part of his body, hidden under layers of clothing, wasn’t easily revealed unless he chose to show it.

Since then, Yimyeong lived ignoring that small crevice. As if denying the strange mark, he pushed his body harder, fought, and moved. He couldn’t look at his own body squarely, couldn’t accept it, and couldn’t tell even his parents.

It was only natural that he came to value this secret above his life.

Yimyeong vowed to carry it to his grave, unaware of how lonely that would be.

In high school, Yimyeong grew up isolated within himself, grappling with confusion. During that time, the fleeting feeling of first love came, but it brought more bitterness than sweetness.

To keep his secret perfectly hidden, he had to be alone. Even the dreamlike first experience others longed for terrified him. The moment he realized love, he knew it could never be fulfilled, and any future love would have to be let go in this way.

The process of these realizations was steeped in profound loneliness.

That winter, news of a severe flu spreading among 13- to 17-year-olds, mostly pubescent teens, was frequent. No specific virus was identified, and standard treatments didn’t work, making it a problem.

No one knew the link between alphas, omegas, and manifestation then. Yimyeong, too, brushed off the news as someone else’s problem.

The existence of “alphas and omegas” surfaced when Yimyeong was nineteen, just after high school graduation.

These unfamiliar beings caused widespread confusion. The issue wasn’t the beings themselves but society’s perceptions of them. Were they new humans or variants? The next stage of evolution or mere mutations? The debate was endless. The problem was that they couldn’t be outwardly distinguished, blending into society. Fear and curiosity about the unknown gripped humanity.

Though the prevailing opinion was that alphas and omegas were just as human, discriminatory views emerged in social issues involving them. The same crime sparked greater controversy if committed by an alpha or omega. Stereotypes about how alphas or omegas would behave were readily applied. Incidents of moral collapse in alpha-omega communities were treated as their unique shame, though such events were common in broader society.

Still, being named was akin to being acknowledged.

Though often othered as third parties, positive changes were emerging. Global research began tracing the origins and timing of alpha and omega emergence, and people joined movements to improve awareness and advocate for them.

But everything was still in its infancy.

Yimyeong treated this social uproar as irrelevant. Reality was too overwhelming to dwell on his body.

That year was particularly harsh for Yimyeong. It was the tenth year of his father’s illness, and his mother, who had supported the family alone while caring for him, collapsed from exhaustion. Yimyeong became the breadwinner.

The only house the family owned had long been sold for medical bills. There were no savings, only mounting debts. With no hope of his father’s recovery, just life-prolonging treatments, money drained relentlessly.

Even from her hospital bed, his mother worried about her son bearing all the burdens.

“I’m graduating soon. I can work more now. I’ll earn a lot.”

Just before high school graduation, Yimyeong submitted job applications and increased his part-time work. Fortunately, his healthy body endured despite sleeping only two or three hours. In the midst of grueling fatigue and sleep deprivation, talk of alphas and omegas felt like someone else’s story.

Later, the hospital suggested trying a new drug.

“Will it help my father get better?”

It had been three years since he last spoke with his father. The despair of watching an unresponsive body was indescribable.

All Yimyeong wanted was a response. Just that much improvement.

But the doctor shook his head. The drug might only slightly extend his father’s life, leaving Yimyeong feeling suffocated rather than hopeful.

The longer he lives, the more debt piles up.

That thought made Yimyeong feel monstrous. But no tears came. His silent heart was tattered with wounds, and he felt like an empty shell of a human.

Time passed.

Yimyeong worked relentlessly and turned twenty-four. Sometimes, paying off debts felt like pouring water into a bottomless bucket, but he worked mindlessly.

Meanwhile, the world changed subtly. At history’s turning points, change is inevitable. Even Yimyeong, long indifferent to alpha and omega matters, occasionally felt these shifts. For instance, job applications now had an “omega/alpha” checkbox.

Yimyeong would stare at the form and check “not applicable.” Always.

Honestly, revealing he was an omega didn’t seem advantageous. And he was usually right. As the public became aware of alphas and omegas, inconveniences arose.

For example:

“Yimyeong, have you ever seen one for real?”

“Seen what.”

“An omega.”

Yimyeong glanced indifferently at his part-time coworker, then looked down and shook his head silently.

“Aren’t you curious? Oh, right, my friend went to a club and met one. Said it was a stunning woman…”

“Yeah, they say omegas are often beautiful.”

“Gotta seduce an alpha, right?”

The snickering voices grated on Yimyeong’s throat. He ignored them, diligently carrying boxes.

“But is that confirmed? There’s no solid data.”

“And male omegas, even if they’re pretty… ugh.”

“Just thinking about it is gross.”

“Hey, I know someone who works with that group and has seen a lot.”

“Seen what?”

“Omegas. But male omegas are rare… Yimyeong, where you going?”

“I’m heading out.”

Though he knew they weren’t talking about him, Yimyeong found such topics uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because the secret he’d deemed more precious than life since childhood was being gossiped about.

Alphas and omegas remained alien, objects of curiosity. But Yimyeong wanted to live quietly, unremarkably. He had no intention of standing out as an outsider.

That small crevice had already tormented him enough. It forced him to give up much and isolated him even when he most needed support.

He didn’t want to seek validation for past pain now. Who would he tell? Sharing the shock and pain from his boyhood, when he didn’t even know he was an omega, wouldn’t earn empathy or comfort—it would only fuel gossip. He didn’t want to be gawked at like a zoo animal or face unexpected barriers in life.

So Yimyeong chose silence.

And he decided to live as an “ordinary person,” like before.

At the same time, he became convinced that guarding this secret like his life since his manifestation at fifteen was the right choice.

‧₊˚

Opening his eyes, Yimyeong saw an unfamiliar ceiling.

Somewhere, the rustling of grass in the breeze and birds chirping could be heard. Half-open eyes caught blinding sunlight streaming in.

“Why didn’t you check ‘omega’ on your resume?”

The clear voice jolted Yimyeong’s eyes wide open.

It was a voice that recalled last night’s humiliation.

“I don’t discriminate.”

Hearing Han Jiwan’s voice, Yimyeong tried to bolt upright but felt a throbbing pain in his neck. Swallowing felt like his tonsils were swollen, sharp and grating.

“Ugh…”

A splitting hangover pounded his temples, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Despite his tolerance for alcohol and his caution to never get drunk in front of others due to his secret, this was unprecedented.

The drink had definitely been spiked.

Yimyeong glared silently at Han Jiwan, who stood before a small tea tray.

Thankfully, he was clothed upon waking, but the fact that they weren’t his clothes felt ominous. The thought of being stripped and dressed while unconscious sent chills through him. The mere possibility of his body being handled by another while he was out fueled his disgust.

“They say evolution is nature’s law. Humans who reject new humans need to admit their arrogance. It’s the kind of thinking that comes from believing you control nature, not that you’re subject to it.”

What was he talking about?

Yimyeong ignored his rambling and looked away. But the turtleneck rubbing against his skin caused a stinging pain. He suppressed a groan and furrowed his brow. The high collar seemed meant to hide the ghastly bruises, but it kept triggering the unpleasant memories of last night.

“I’m more the worshiping type. Humble before nature…”

Han Jiwan’s voice sounded oddly excited. Yimyeong completely tuned out his voice, whether he was spouting sophistry or not. His only thought now was getting out of here.

It seemed this was Han Jiwan’s bedroom. The view outside the window wasn’t much different from what he’d seen from the annex.

The fact that he was in Han Jiwan’s bedroom was uncomfortable enough, but the room’s atmosphere was even more unsettling. The bedroom of a man with the shocking proclivity to assault his employee and choke someone was impeccably clean and pristine. The wrinkle-free linen sheets and precisely aligned pillows were reminiscent of a hotel.

Moreover, Han Jiwan was now shamelessly brewing and drinking tea beside Yimyeong.

All of this felt like a chilling dissonance to Yimyeong.

“I was curious about omegas and wanted to meet one at least once, but they were so hard to find. And then you walked right in.”

“…….”

“Isn’t that what they call fate?”

Han Jiwan approached, offering a teacup. Yimyeong only glared at him in response.

“Drink. It’s good tea.”

“…….”

“Isn’t your throat dry? You must want to drink… I’ll leave it here.”

Han Jiwan turned away, humming. Yimyeong reflected on the urge he’d felt to knock the teacup from his hand and his inability to act on it.

Unfortunately, the physical pain he’d experienced was etched into his bones, not easily forgotten. Han Jiwan had choked him just for being hit in the face. The fear of how this lunatic might react if Yimyeong acted impulsively restrained him.

“Anyway, it means you found the right person. Whether it’s art or anything else, value rises when it meets someone who appreciates it.”

“…….”

“With that face and being an omega, I would’ve doubled your salary… You really don’t know how to negotiate, hyung.”

Yimyeong, still staring at Han Jiwan’s leisurely back, regretted his past choice driven by the promise of a high salary.

He’d thought he’d lucked into a decent job. Compared to the grueling manual labor and part-time gigs he’d done, it was a huge step up. He’d applied because there were no restrictions on education or military service. Thinking it might be a clerical error, he submitted his resume anyway—for the money.

The pay was incomparable to his previous jobs. He’d believed that if hired, the money could solve many problems.

So when Han Jiwan’s secretary called to say he’d passed the initial screening, Yimyeong, though puzzled, hurriedly scraped together an outfit.

That day, the jacket of the suit he’d struggled to afford didn’t quite match the pants, differing subtly in color and texture. But neither the secretary nor Han Jiwan paid any attention to his clothes. From start to finish, they focused solely on Yimyeong’s face and body.

He should’ve been suspicious then.

“Don’t look so betrayed. That position was created because I wanted to make a ‘friend.’ I don’t have many friends…”

Friends, huh. Yimyeong scoffed inwardly at the hollow word.

It turned out the bodyguard role was a pretext, essentially a position to select a plaything. The secretary picked men who seemed to fit Han Jiwan’s taste, and if Han Jiwan liked them, he’d drug their drinks and toy with their bodies. Realizing how far someone with enough money to fear no law could go filled Yimyeong with disgust.

Last night, he’d wondered where it all went wrong. Now he understood it was wrong from the start. From the moment he submitted his resume and was chosen by Han Jiwan, there was no escape. Thinking about how his efforts to avoid offending his boss during the drinking session must have looked to this man filled him with misery.

“You’re so naive, hyung. Who pays that much for a resume like yours? You should’ve been suspicious of an overly high salary. There’s no such thing as free money.”

Han Jiwan laughed cheerfully.

“But finding people isn’t easy. No one’s lasted more than three months.”

Of course. Who would stay after realizing they were hired to be a man’s plaything? Three months was long. Anyone with a shred of sanity would run, no matter how desperate for money.

“Know why? I get bored quickly.”

“…….”

“You don’t believe me. Don’t you know how shallow people are? Guys who resist like crazy at first kneel for money easily. Once they give in, it’s not so bad. I’m pretty good at it too… After that, they spread their legs for a luxury item or a car. For just a few million won.”

Han Jiwan laughed coldly.

“You really don’t believe me. There are tons of people like that.”

“…….”

“When that happens, my interest drops. So don’t be like that, hyung.”

‧₊˚

Han Jiwan turned toward the silent Yimyeong. Yimyeong was still glaring at him with an expressionless face. It wasn’t just a glare—his eyes held a more complex mix of emotions.

When Han Jiwan first met Yimyeong, he had a resigned, docile look, as if he’d given up on life. That was appealing, but the current blend of anger and helplessness was even more so.

No, Yimyeong’s very existence thrilled Han Jiwan. Especially the body hidden under those clothes.

“Cheer up, hyung.”

Knowing Yimyeong wasn’t in the mood to comply, Han Jiwan deliberately spoke softly.

At the first interview, Han Jiwan could tell from Yimyeong’s mismatched, plain suit that he either didn’t care about or couldn’t afford nice clothes. For Han Jiwan, a desirable partner being financially strained was a bonus.

“Wanna date?”

Yimyeong’s eyebrows twitched at the casually tossed question. It wasn’t outright cursing, but his reaction made Han Jiwan instantly gleeful. His heart raced.

“I’m serious… Let’s not just play—be my boyfriend. You’re special, hyung. I totally fell for you yesterday. I feel like I could give you anything right now.”

“Anyway…”

When Yimyeong spoke, his voice came out horribly hoarse. Frowning at the lingering effects of being choked, he spoke again.

“You’re just going to do it anyway. Do whatever you want.”

“…….”

“Isn’t that why you tied me up?”

Yimyeong raised his wrists. His hands, resting quietly on his knees, were tightly bound. And that wasn’t all—his ankles were firmly tied to a bedpost.

Han Jiwan laughed, eyes curving.

“Hyung, why’re you dropping the formalities?”

Yimyeong turned his head and sighed, as if he saw no need to explain. Han Jiwan’s chest ached with excitement. Every action was so perfectly to his taste, it almost felt like Yimyeong knew what he liked.

“I’m quitting. You’re not my boss or employer anymore.”

“Don’t you need money?”

“I don’t need it. I don’t care about a week’s pay…”

“A week’s pay? Don’t make me sound cheap. I pay fair wages…”

“…….”

“For yesterday, fifty million.”

Han Jiwan touched Yimyeong’s neck. Recalling “yesterday’s events,” small goosebumps rose on Yimyeong’s skin.

“Fifty million’s generous. I didn’t even get any fun. You’re the one who came.”

Yimyeong’s body trembled with humiliation, perhaps recalling the forced climax from breath control. Seeing this, Han Jiwan’s body heated up. Imagining Yimyeong reacting this way to everything he’d do made it hard to contain his excitement.

“Where else can you find a job like this? Huh? Can you throw fifty million in my face and walk away, hyung?”

“…….”

“Really?”

Of course, Han Jiwan knew it was impossible.

He’d looked into Yimyeong’s background and, as expected, found a pile of debts.

“If you play with me, I’ll pay off your debts in one go. Think about it. It’s not a bad deal. I told you, I get bored fast… Just play with me until I’m done.”

Yimyeong said nothing, avoiding Han Jiwan’s gaze. His clenched jaw muscles bulged, clearly wounded in pride. It must feel pathetic to struggle with giving up fifty million.

Han Jiwan already knew Yimyeong’s total debt—seven hundred million. To him, it was pocket change, but to Yimyeong, it was life-changing.

“Deals feel bad, don’t they? Everyone says so.”

“…….”

“So, hyung, wanna skip the deal and just date?”

At that, Yimyeong’s calm expression briefly betrayed unmistakable disgust before settling again.

Han Jiwan’s eyes gleamed as he traced Yimyeong’s bared teeth with his fingertips. Yimyeong was conflicted—torn between throwing away his morals for foolish poverty or living as a man’s kept lover. But Han Jiwan knew that even having this dilemma meant his morals had already crumbled before money. Tracing Yimyeong’s jaw and lips, touching his sculpted face freely, Yimyeong only stared ahead, not resisting. Han Jiwan chuckled. Holding all the cards and watching Yimyeong flounder was exhilarating.

“I spend a ton on my boyfriends.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

Yimyeong cut him off sharply, rejecting the word “boyfriend.” Han Jiwan tilted his head, locking eyes with Yimyeong, who stubbornly stared ahead.

“‘Until you’re bored’ is too vague. Set a term.”

Yimyeong had chosen to abandon his morals for money.

It was the answer Han Jiwan wanted, yet it didn’t feel satisfying. Was it too easy a victory?

“A term? You’re not that dumb.”

Han Jiwan clicked his tongue. Yimyeong glared at him with fierce eyes.

Annoyed by the look, Han Jiwan crossed his arms and said coldly.

“Seems you’re misunderstanding. You don’t get to make demands. Don’t tell me to set a term. It’s annoying.”

“Then what am I supposed to trust in this deal? Don’t be a coward—”

Before Yimyeong could finish, Han Jiwan grabbed his hair. Even with his head yanked back, Yimyeong glared as if he’d bite him. Han Jiwan spat on his face.

Yimyeong’s eyelids twitched at the unexpected insult.

“Why should I trust you with my money?”

“…….”

“You might look good, but if the sex is bad, I’m the one losing out.”

“Ugh!”

Releasing the hair he’d gripped in anger, Yimyeong stumbled to regain balance. Head bowed, he slowly wiped the spit from his cheek with his bound hands.

“You any good, hyung?”

Han Jiwan grabbed and released Yimyeong’s buttocks blatantly. Each crude touch drained the color from Yimyeong’s face. Seeing this, Han Jiwan’s mood lifted instantly. The control was his, from start to finish.

“Whether we make a deal depends on how it goes… Cool with that?”

“You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Don’t pretend to ask.”

Yimyeong’s voice was subdued, not just broken but resigned, as if realizing a reasonable deal was impossible.

Han Jiwan put an arm around Yimyeong’s shoulder, pulling him close. The stubborn, solid shoulders barely budged, so Han Jiwan leaned his chin on them instead.

“Hyung, you know.”

“…….”

“I don’t really like rape.”

Yimyeong’s neck stiffened at the low whisper against it. His body, solid as an old tree, was sensitive to stimulation. Han Jiwan rested his head on Yimyeong’s shoulder, imagining how thrilling it would be to explore every inch of his body.

“My thing is… worshiping and savoring.”

Fear and confusion crept into Yimyeong’s eyes, which had held anger and helplessness. Pitifully, he didn’t know how to handle a sexual deviant he was meeting for the first time.

But it didn’t matter. All Yimyeong had to do now was tremble helplessly beneath him.

“I’m someone who knows value. Know what I hate most? Not treating something precious with care. A beautiful body’s the same. If you treat it like a worn-out whore from the start, where’s the fun in that?”

This was sincere. Yimyeong’s appearance perfectly matched Han Jiwan’s aesthetic sense. And a rare male omega to boot… His swollen arousal was almost painful from wanting him so badly.

But he wanted to savor this rare delicacy slowly.

“I think your body’s like a work of art, hyung. I want to handle it carefully. Okay?”

Han Jiwan placed his hand near Yimyeong’s groin. Even the subtle touch made Yimyeong flinch.

“So don’t resist.”

Han Jiwan slowly lowered himself. Kneeling at Yimyeong’s feet by the bed, he lifted the pants slightly and grabbed his exposed ankle. The prominent ankle bone and taut Achilles tendon were tense with vitality.

“It’s your first time, so I’ll be gentle.”

Han Jiwan kissed the top of Yimyeong’s foot. Yimyeong’s eyes, looking up, were filled with horror, as if staring at a madman.

That look delighted Han Jiwan immensely.

‧₊˚

“Mm… ugh…”

Yimyeong was enduring the ticklish sensation rising from his toes.

Han Jiwan, gripping Yimyeong’s ankle, licked the protruding bones of his foot and unhesitatingly took his toes into his mouth. His lips and tongue made wet sounds, relentlessly caressing the foot. The worst was that tongue. The red tongue slipping from thin lips slithered like a snake with slick sounds.

“Your feet are pretty too, hyung. Well, all your bones are.”

Han Jiwan mumbled, fondling the calf connected to the ankle. Yimyeong turned his head, saying nothing.

He thought he could endure it briefly, but Han Jiwan was excessively meticulous. He treated Yimyeong’s body with genuine reverence. It wasn’t just the feet—his tongue seemed determined to trace every bone and muscle of the ankle, calf, and leg. It felt less like assault and more like being pampered, which was uncomfortable.

“Ugh…”

Even usually insensitive areas became unbearable under the repeated pressure of a wet tongue and lips. He tried to dismiss it as a dog’s licking, but once his body started reacting sensitively, it was hard to endure.

His toes curled, and his glutes tensed. Each time, Han Jiwan stroked the sole of his foot, urging him to relax.

“I’m going to taste everything. From here to here. By the time my tongue reaches up, you’ll be completely melted.”

Han Jiwan gripped the ankle and pointed to Yimyeong’s navel, signaling this ticklish torment would continue.

Unable to bear it, Yimyeong spoke.

“Just… do it.”

Han Jiwan raised an eyebrow and looked up.

“Then lift your hips.”

With a resigned face, Yimyeong helped as Han Jiwan unzipped his pants, chuckling.

“Fucking easy.”

Yimyeong’s body flinched at the mockery.

“Do you always drop your pants so easily for guys?”

Yimyeong bit the inside of his lip, silent. He felt played by Han Jiwan’s tactics, but it was better than letting him lick his entire leg.

Just rape me, he thought. He could endure violence. He wasn’t weak. But he didn’t want to be swept up in Han Jiwan’s act of savoring his body.

As Yimyeong’s pants were easily removed, leaving him in his underwear, Han Jiwan lavished praise on his legs. He kissed each part—the slender ankle and taut shin, the defined muscles of the thigh. When Han Jiwan’s lips reached the inner thigh, Yimyeong turned his head away.

Even minor touches made sweat trickle down his spine. Each flinch drew Han Jiwan’s scrutiny.

“What, I barely touched you.”

Han Jiwan muttered with a scoff.

“I knew it. You look like you’d love sex, hyung.”

Yimyeong swallowed the denial rising in his throat.

“Ugh!”

Han Jiwan swiftly climbed onto the bed. Pushed back, Yimyeong’s turtleneck was yanked up to his chest in an instant.

His slim, toned waist was revealed. Han Jiwan, holding the shirt up, gazed at the milky skin contrasting with the black fabric. Fine sweat beads lined the valley between his broad pectorals. Tracing the chest with his tongue, Han Jiwan closely examined Yimyeong’s nipples. The pale flesh made the darker areas stand out in vivid pink. The nipples were slightly larger than average but not vulgar due to the small areolas.

Han Jiwan smacked his lips, pinching a nipple tightly between his fingers. A pained groan burst from Yimyeong’s throat. When he soothed the swollen nipple with his tongue, Yimyeong let out a soft, panting breath.

His body was sensitive and honest to stimulation. Thinking of how many men must have passed through it sparked a twisted desire for conquest.

“Stop, stop it…”

Biting, nibbling, and sucking hard, the nipple turned a deep pink, possibly bruised beneath. Han Jiwan imagined Yimyeong finding these marks while washing, feeling a sense of pride.

Han Jiwan freely savored Yimyeong’s firm abs and waist, devoid of fat. Each time, Yimyeong twisted, perhaps tickled.

“Here? You feel it here?”

“No, I don’t need—”

Kissing the abs and brushing the sides with his fingertips made Yimyeong’s waist twist. Han Jiwan memorized the spots eliciting groans, diligently caressing them.

“Tell me where it feels good. Your erogenous zones.”

“Don’t know, I don’t, hck…”

“Don’t know? At your age, you don’t know your own erogenous zones…”

Han Jiwan looked at Yimyeong’s face. His flushed cheekbones glowed red with shallow breaths.

“You keep saying the cutest things.”