Underpainting Chapter 6.2 - Chiaroscuro (2)

Through the parted walls of his entrance, Taehan thrust his cock all the way to the root, then pulled back slightly. He then pushed deeper, as if coaxing him open.

After a couple of these movements, Dawon’s tension gradually eased, and the searing pain subsided. All that remained was a throbbing pressure and a strange fluttering.

With their bodies pressed close together, every ripple of muscle, every throb of Taehan’s pulse transmitted through his skin to Dawon. The sensation of their sweat-slicked skin rubbing together was intoxicating.

Perhaps because of Taehan’s slower pace, Dawon felt every inch of him. The straight, long, rock-hard cock stretched and pressed against him.

“Haa. Good…”

Taehan’s low, husky voice tickled Dawon’s ear. His simple words sent Dawon’s heart plummeting to his stomach before it began to pound faster and harder. Moisture welled up from his stretched walls.

Taehan, who had been moving cautiously as if exploring, gradually began to lift his hips, targeting the spot he knew Dawon loved. The heavy, grinding strokes sent slow, steady waves of pleasure through Dawon.

“Ahh, h, mm, uh, hng.”

The more pleasure built, the more intense his thirst became. The subtle waves of sensation, barely enough to quench his desire, were tantalizing. A primal urge welled up inside him, craving more. He wanted Taehan deeper, faster, harder, to unleash something terrifying and exhilarating.

Impatient, Dawon reached up and wrapped his arms around Taehan’s back. He nuzzled his nose against Taehan’s warm shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply.

“Mister. Haa, now…”

“…”

“Now, hng, do as you please, haa, with me. Everything. All of it…”

Dawon had asked Taehan to take control like this a few times before. Back then, it had been a kind of surrender, a resignation to the unknown pleasure and fear. But now, it was different.

For some reason, Dawon felt a strange certainty, perhaps delusional, that Taehan wouldn’t hurt him. Even if he were to shatter him with intense pleasure and terrifying ecstasy, he would gently put him back together again.

So, even though Taehan’s eyes darkened at his bold words, Dawon wasn’t afraid. The feeling of his cock swelling inside him was almost sweet.

“Haa, ah, uh!”

As if sensing Dawon’s anticipation, Taehan began to move his hips quickly, holding Dawon securely in his arms. Dawon’s small body bucked with each thrust, but as long as he held onto Taehan’s back, he wouldn’t fall apart.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dawon felt himself soaring, connected to Taehan, bound to him. Chills ran down his spine again and again, and his body began to tremble.

“Mister. Haa, something, wow. What, hngh, what do I do? Haah…”

“Hah, yes. Kid. Hng…”

Taehan, too, seemed to be nearing his peak. His thrusts became faster, more insistent. The slick, slick sounds of his cock pounding against Dawon’s drenched walls echoed in the room.

Dawon felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, being pushed further and further back. But it was good. Taehan’s consuming passion felt tender and intoxicating.

Pushed and pushed, the throbbing pleasure within him finally reached its peak. In a flash of white light, Dawon clung to Taehan with all his might.

“Aaaah…!”

The feeling of Taehan’s cock pulsing deep inside him, of his strong, tree-trunk-like arms tightening around him, was exhilarating. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face deeper into Taehan’s chest.

“Haa, h, Taehan.”

Taehan stroked Dawon’s hair as he whimpered his name. His large hand was pleasantly warm, undeniably tender. Dawon, who had never known happiness or felt truly loved, couldn’t name the emotion that filled his chest in that moment.

He only thought, without reason, that it felt like his feet, which had always wandered aimlessly, had finally found solid ground.

It was night. Only the blackness of the sky filtered through the curtains, and a small bedside lamp cast a dim light across the room. As soon as Dawon opened his eyes from a drowsy slumber, he met the gaze of the man beside him.

Taehan was lying next to him, stroking his hair. The warm, languid feeling was dreamlike.

“Sleep some more. It’s still the middle of the night.”

Hearing Taehan’s voice brought back the memories of just before he fell asleep. The hours they spent entangled, their bodies slick with sweat, savoring each other’s scent, their touches.

“How’s your body?”

His calm, low voice held a warmth that was unusual. Taehan had been the same when he held Dawon before he fell asleep. His strength and heat were the same as always, but his touch, his gaze, his voice, were different. Soft and gentle enough to bring tears to Dawon’s eyes.

At first, the unfamiliar tenderness had felt strange, but later, he’d become lost in the ecstasy. He clung to Taehan, even as he tried to soothe and calm him, and they continued until Dawon finally collapsed, exhausted, as usual.

“Mm. I’m fine.”

Despite the aches in his body, Dawon hid his discomfort and replied. He was already embarrassed, unsure how long Taehan had been watching him sleep, and he didn’t want to make a fuss and have Taehan overreact.

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

Even Taehan’s concerned gaze, scrutinizing his face, felt overwhelming. Growing more embarrassed, Dawon answered, his head barely peeking out from under the covers.

“I don’t want to eat.”

“Well, it is too late to eat now. Do you want some water?”

When Dawon nodded, Taehan immediately got up and brought him some water. He even helped Dawon sit up and placed the glass in his hand. Being cared for like this was unfamiliar.

Even as a child, living with his mother, when Dawon was sick, he’d lie down in their small room in the red-light district and wait for his body to heal on its own. His mother was too exhausted to care for him in the mornings and worked at night.

Now, being treated like a child by Taehan, Dawon felt a ticklish, buoyant sensation. It was a similar euphoria to what he felt at climax, but much calmer and gentler.

Afraid of overflowing with the swirling emotions inside, Dawon burrowed back under the covers as soon as he set the glass down. This time, he covered his face completely, but Taehan remained seated beside him, silent.

‘Why does he keep staring?’

Taehan looked down at him, his gaze slow and steady, as if reluctant to let the moment pass, caressing Dawon with his eyes. Even hidden beneath the blanket, Dawon could feel the intensity of his stare and couldn’t move.

Taehan’s eyes lingered on Dawon’s right foot, which was peeking out from under the covers. After a long moment, he sighed deeply. It sounded almost like frustration, but when Taehan reached out and touched his foot, Dawon relaxed.

Taehan’s touch was feather-light as he caressed Dawon’s heel, his foot propped upright. He didn’t seem angry with Dawon, at least.

“Kid. Your foot… what happened?”

Taehan asked in a low voice. Dawon opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated, a sudden unease washing over him.

Dawon’s ankle had always been like this, and Taehan had even watched him walk intently when they first met. There was no reason to bring it up now, yet Taehan asked a belated question, and Dawon was ready to answer as if he’d been waiting for it.

As if they were suddenly curious about each other. As if they wanted to pull out something hidden within themselves and touch it, smell it, embrace it.

Dawon thought back to a few hours ago. He had poured out his heart to Taehan, telling him about Jaeuk, even though Taehan hadn’t asked, and he’d even cried. It was an embarrassing memory, yet thinking about it now made his chest ache with a strange fullness.

Perhaps people would call this feeling fulfillment. He didn’t know what connection there was between talking about himself and feeling fulfilled, but even now, his lips, buried in the pillow, twitched, wanting to spill more useless words.

‘Something’s definitely wrong.’

It felt as if the shell that had always protected his heart had crumbled. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but he began to speak anyway.

“When I was eleven.”

The moment Dawon spoke, Taehan’s hand stilled on his ankle. In the unfamiliar feeling of someone listening to his story, Dawon continued, forcing the words out.

“It was about two months after my mom died. It was the day we were organizing all the paintings that had piled up. My uncles and Jaeuk were in the storage room all day, and I was alone in the studio. I was drawing when I suddenly looked out the window…”

“…”

“It was May. The weather was beautiful. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, and there were white birds flying around. And I thought, if I jumped from here, maybe I could get out of this studio.”

It was the most impulsive thing Dawon had ever done. He opened the window as if in a trance and threw himself out.

“I didn’t get anywhere, I didn’t even land properly. My ankle twisted, and it hurt terribly, but I couldn’t just stay there, so I crawled towards the gate. Dragging myself with my arms. Of course, I didn’t even make it halfway across the garden before my uncles caught me.”

“…”

“I couldn’t go to the hospital. On paper, I was already dead. My eldest uncle had registered my death when I first came to live there.”

Dawon’s mother had only found out about it almost a year later, after all the paperwork was done, and she’d raged at his eldest uncle.

〈What is this? Why did you declare my perfectly healthy child dead! Go and cancel it. Now!〉

〈Don’t be ridiculous. How can I cancel it now that it’s done?〉

〈You broke your promise. You said you’d take good care of Dawon. That you’d send him to school. That you’d give him a proper education!〉

〈Of course, he’ll get an education. Don’t worry. I have everything planned. Tsk. Be quiet, will you? If the police come, you’ll be the first one they take away.〉

His eldest uncle had chuckled and calmed his mother down, but even as a child, Dawon hadn’t believed him. Vague words like ‘I have everything planned’ were usually lies. It was up to the speaker to decide who the plan benefited.

“I lay in bed for about ten days, and when I got up, my leg wouldn’t work properly. At first, I thought it would heal. Like when I got a cold or a stomachache, I always got better on my own without going to the hospital. I kept waiting to be able to walk properly again… but it didn’t happen.”

When did he realize the truth? By the time spring came again, after several seasons had changed, Dawon knew his leg would never be the same.

It was a vivid memory, so it wasn’t a big deal to talk about it, but after he finished, the air in the room felt heavy. Dawon added casually,

“Well… it wasn’t a big problem even if my leg was messed up. I was always drawing in my room anyway, I couldn’t go anywhere. I guess my eldest uncle was worried I’d jump out the window again, so he put sharp rocks in the garden below the studio. Other than that, nothing really changed.”

Perhaps his casual words had made the atmosphere heavier. Taehan asked quietly,

“…How about now? Being cooped up in your room must be stifling.”

Taehan was right. Dawon had been feeling restless and suffocated for the past few days. He had easily spoken about things Taehan hadn’t asked, but now, faced with a direct question, he only mumbled softly,

“I know it can’t be helped. Because of the pheromones and all.”

Taehan’s warm hand gently kneaded Dawon’s ankle and calf. Dawon could feel a sense of regret, and tenderness, emanating from his touch. After a long while, Taehan spoke hesitantly.

“For now… feel free to move around inside the house. I’ve sent the youngest one away, and everyone will be out a lot for work for a while.”

Dawon realized that Taehan was worried he might jump out the window again. It was both amusing and touching that this man, who seemed fearless, was worried about something so absurd.

Dawon relaxed his body on the bed. The trivial conversation seemed to have eased his mind, and he started to feel sleepy.

“I’m sleepy.”

Even though he could just go to sleep, Dawon poked his head out from under the covers and said it like a child seeking attention.

“Alright, sleep.”

“I want to talk more.”

Suddenly, he wanted to talk about everything. Looking back on his life, it was all dark, heavy, and tedious stories. Maybe it would be better to hear Taehan’s stories instead.

Judging by the coolness that settled on Taehan’s cheeks when he was silent, perhaps the words he held within were also filled with sadness. Still, Dawon wanted to hear them. He wanted to know what Taehan thought about when he looked up at the sky while exhaling cigarette smoke, why his eyes looked so empty.

“Mister, I… you know…”

But despite his desire, his eyelids grew heavy. He even dozed off mid-sentence, then startled awake.

“It’s okay, kid. We can talk when you wake up.”

That voice, it sounded like it would stay with him forever. Even when he woke up, Taehan would be there. There would be time to talk again. With that comforting thought, Dawon drifted off to sleep.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was alone in bed. He groped around beside him, just in case, but his hand touched only the cold, empty sheets.

‘Taehan’s busy. He said everyone would be out for work for a while.’

Trying not to feel disappointed, Dawon took a deep breath, trying to find any lingering traces of Taehan’s scent in the empty room. It had been a while since he left, the scent was faint, and Dawon took several deep breaths.

‘Wait? This smell…’

Dawon suddenly caught a strange scent. It smelled like gas. It was faint, as if leaking from far away, but his sensitive nose quickly identified it.

Hesitant at first, Dawon remembered Taehan saying he had “sent the youngest away” and got out of bed. He thought it would be best to check what was happening, just in case it was dangerous.

‘I didn’t think I’d be leaving the room for something like this, right after he said I could walk around the house.’

It was just stepping outside his room, but after being practically confined for days, Dawon felt a strange sensation the moment he stepped out the door. An unexpected chill and an ominous feeling, a fluttering in his chest.

The smell of gas grew stronger as he descended the stairs to the second floor, then suddenly faded as he neared the bottom. Confused, he reached the first floor, and the sound that reached his ears sent shivers down his spine.

It was a very familiar sound of footsteps. During the years he was confined to the studio across the street, Dawon had lived with a constant, tense awareness of those approaching footsteps.

“Oh, Da, Dawon.”

His eldest uncle, who had been cautiously emerging from the kitchen, stopped in surprise when he saw Dawon. Dawon was just as bewildered by the situation.

“…Uncle.”

His eldest uncle was here. Startled by his sudden appearance, Dawon instinctively raised his left arm to cover his right. His uncle probably still believed his arm hadn’t healed yet. He couldn’t let him see it without the bandages.

Fortunately, they were separated by the spacious living room. Moreover, his uncle seemed preoccupied, glancing back at the kitchen, and didn’t seem to notice Dawon’s arm.

“Why are you here?”

Dawon was about to leave, but something felt off, so he asked. His uncle didn’t answer, only clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“You brat, what’s with your tone? I haven’t been teaching you manners lately, and you’ve become completely unruly. Have you been influenced by that thug?”

His eyes narrowed fiercely as he mentioned Taehan. Dawon wondered what had happened between them. His uncle had grumbled about Taehan like this every day when he first moved into the neighborhood, but for a while, he had acted as if they were close friends.

If their relationship had soured, what was the reason, and what did it mean? As Dawon pondered this, his uncle spoke, his tone accusatory.

“Looks like you’re living the good life? A few days of slacking off, and your face is all clear. Get a grip, you idiot. Do you think you can relax now?”

His uncle looked around nervously, as if worried about being overheard, then lowered his voice.

“You didn’t hear anything strange from that Ryu Taehan, did you? Be careful. He’s a dangerous man. He’ll stop at nothing if he thinks he can get something out of you.”

Up to this point, Dawon had assumed it was just his uncle’s usual gossip. But his next words made Dawon’s heart sink.

“That vicious bastard really… Dawon, just thinking about it makes me so angry I can’t sleep. Because of him, the business I built for twenty years went to Seochang Construction overnight.”

“…Business? Selling paintings?”

“Yes! Those thugs were planning to rip off Choi Beomsik from the start. Seochang planted Ryu Taehan here because they saw your paintings were profitable. All that sweet-talking was an act. Hah, it’s unbelievable.”

As Dawon listened, the events of the past few weeks clicked into place like puzzle pieces. Taehan had shown interest in his paintings even though he knew they were fake. He had showered his uncle with gifts for no apparent reason and had followed him to the auction house, observing everything.

It had been strange from the beginning. If he had only wanted to help Dawon, there was no need for any of that. A sense of foreboding washed over him, but Dawon tried to keep his voice steady as he asked,

“Did he tell you to hand over the painting business… to Seochang?”

“Just tell me? He dragged me to the basement and threatened me, oh… He acted like a madman, trying to take all the profits for himself, leaving me with nothing. Hah, but do you think I’d just sit back and let him? Ryu Taehan is unreasonable, so I went straight to his boss and settled things.”

“…”

“Be grateful. If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have been screwed, Dawon. Who knows what those thugs would have done to you. But now everything’s sorted out. I’ll continue to take care of you. The only thing that’s changed is that our backing is Seochang now, not Guyeong.”

“…”

“No, wait. CEO Seo is going to support us big time, so the business will get even bigger. We’ll even enter international auctions. You, crippled Kwon Dawon, have really made it. CEO Seo even got you a brand new studio at the headquarters. I saw it today, it’s like a palace.”

Dawon remembered the day a truck and a group of people came to the studio across the street, carrying tools and paintings. His eldest uncle had been standing next to a man with an arrogant demeanor. That must have been “CEO Seo.”

And Taehan had been standing beside his eldest uncle and CEO Seo, watching as the studio was moved. What did it mean? Dawon’s heart beat slowly and painfully.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about those complicated matters. You just need to keep painting, like before.”

Like before, keep painting. Those words made something surge within him. While he was in this house, he had diligently dug out his hidden sketchbook and forced himself to draw, but the thought of returning to his old life made his skin crawl.

“Anyway, be careful of that Ryu Taehan. Behave yourself, and if you find any dirt on him, let me know. Got it?”

“…”

“Hah, you’re so disrespectful. You still haven’t broken the habit of only answering when you feel like it. CEO Seo will be looking for you soon, so be obedient and play along then, okay?”

His eldest uncle left without waiting for a response from Dawon. Dawon couldn’t bring himself to care why his uncle had come. His legs felt weak as he shuffled over to the living room sofa and collapsed onto it.

He heard the sound of his uncle’s car leaving the alley. Dawon’s listless gaze drifted towards the two-story house across the street. A desolate house with all the lights off, as if no one had been there for a while.

“…I’m cold.”

A sudden chill seeped into his bones, and he hugged himself. There were clothes and warm blankets in his room upstairs, but he didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to the room that still faintly held Taehan’s scent, to the bed where they had been intimate so many times.

He tried to make sense of the situation, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. No, his sharp mind had already pieced together the puzzle, but he refused to acknowledge the complete picture.

Not wanting to think anymore, Dawon just sat there, numb. He felt like a death row inmate waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall.

How much time had passed? He heard a car entering the alley again. Then, the sound of long, steady strides. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

The sound of the door opening, footsteps echoing across the living room floor. The sound of Taehan’s return felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

“Kid.”

Taehan, who had been hurrying upstairs, spotted Dawon sitting silently on the sofa and turned towards him.

“Were you feeling stuffy downstairs? When did you wake up? Have you eaten…?”

His affectionate words abruptly stopped when he met Dawon’s eyes. Dawon’s pale face gleamed sadly in the afternoon sunlight.

“Mister.”

His eyes, fixed on Taehan, and his flat voice were frozen.

“Did you ask my uncle to hand over the painting business to your organization?”

Taehan’s eyes flickered, unable to hide his unease. Dawon’s body began to tremble. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, but a sudden wave of dizziness made the room spin.

“Did you move my studio to the Seochang Construction building? Was that why all those people came a few days ago? Am I supposed to work there now?”

“Kid, about that…”

Taehan sighed softly and took a step closer, placing his hand on Dawon’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I have everything planned.”

The moment those words, identical to his uncle’s, left Taehan’s mouth, the ground beneath Dawon’s feet seemed to disappear. The precariously hanging rope finally snapped, choking the breath out of him.

Dawon pushed Taehan’s hand away with all his might. Since hearing his uncle’s story, the same question had been echoing in his mind. A question he had perhaps harbored all along, while he was with Taehan, but had desperately tried to ignore. Finally, Dawon asked,

“Mister, you never intended to fulfill my request from the beginning, did you?”