Underpainting Chapter 7.2 - Blurring (2)

“Why didn’t you just say so? Ah, should I have just offered myself? Sorry for not knowing. Should I spread my legs for you?”

“Stop it, Kid.”

“Why? Not in the mood? I guess so. It’s not like I’m in heat. Should I suck your dick then? What do I have to…”

“I said stop it!”

Taehan finally raised his voice at Dawon’s relentless words. His sharp tone shook the air. His hands tightened on Dawon’s shoulders as if he would break them. He knew he must have left dark red marks where he gripped, even without looking.

Dawon flinched reflexively, then clenched his teeth. Redness bloomed around his eyes, but he seemed to be fighting back tears.

“Just tell me what you want, Mister. Stop playing these games.”

“…”

“You know what…? You’re just like my uncles.”

At those words, Taehan bristled. He wanted to yell at the naive boy. To tell him that he was throwing everything away to pull him out of that filthy swamp. That the things he had staked his life on were crumbling and twisting.

But those excuses felt too cowardly and hypocritical. It was Taehan who had taken the long way around, indulging in unnecessary arrogance and complacency, when he could have taken the easy path. Moreover, he had brought Dawon here because he wanted him, because he had no intention of letting him go, even if Dawon protested.

Even now, Taehan couldn’t bring himself to let go of Dawon, who was looking at him with undisguised contempt. He felt a prickling rage at being compared to those vile creatures, yet he couldn’t form a rebuttal, pathetic as he was.

“No, you’re worse than my uncles. I, I… was stupid.”

“…”

“I shouldn’t have met you. It would have been better if I hadn’t met someone like you, Mister.”

Dawon finally uttered the words Taehan couldn’t bear to hear. Taehan glared at him with eyes blazing with fury. Dawon’s anger, which had seemed to cool, was now burning red hot.

When they first met, Dawon’s eyes were dry and lifeless, a stark contrast to his youthful face. Taehan had wondered what had made them so desolate. But looking back now, Taehan’s life had been just as barren.

Foolishly, they had tried to find warmth by leaning on each other, their souls fragile and on the verge of shattering. Now it was time for their clumsy flames to consume them both. So this couldn’t be love. This foolishness, this pain, couldn’t possibly be love.

Even amidst the rage that threatened to burst his chest, Taehan felt pity for the boy and wanted to ask him why he had come to someone as worthless as him. Why he had let Taehan hold him, why he had become someone Taehan couldn’t let go of, even in his dreams.

But it was a pointless question. Having always lived this way, Taehan chose to put on a mask of malice instead of revealing his true feelings. He shoved Dawon roughly. Dawon’s body, fueled by nothing but desperate defiance, fell like a piece of paper.

‘I just need to keep him here. If he stays by my side, everything else will get better.’

“It would have been better if you hadn’t met me? What good will saying that do?”

“…”

“You’re smart, so you know this too, Kid. There’s no going back now.”

Dawon’s thin, white arms and legs sprawled across the bed. Taehan deliberately climbed onto the bed with a careless movement, placing his knee on the mattress.

He wedged his knee between Dawon’s thighs, pressing down hard to force them apart. Seeing Dawon’s legs trembling, Taehan let out a bitter laugh.

“I told you what an omega is good for. Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

“…”

“What am I going to do if you have more regrets, Kid? From now on, crying and begging won’t do you any good.”

Plod, plod.

Every time he hears his mother’s footsteps ascending the stairs, Dawon realizes he’s back in that recurring dream.

It was almost four years since he started working in the studio of the two-story house. He hadn’t finished his work that day because he was unfamiliar with the new type of paper.

Dawon, who would normally be asleep at that late hour, was still painting when he heard his mother and peeked his head out the door, glad for her presence. His mother, returning to her room on the second floor reeking of alcohol, smiled brightly at him.

“Dawon. My Kid. Why are you still awake?”

His mother’s face was lined with wrinkles and scars that had accumulated over the years. Her eyes flickered with anxiety, and she scratched at her arms, which were already covered in scabs. The image of his mother, once as fresh as a flower even in the red-light district, was long gone.

When they first came to this house, his great-uncle had lured them with promises of providing Dawon with an education and helping his mother find a proper job. Initially, he had made a few perfunctory attempts to find her employment.

But it wasn’t long before his great-uncle revealed his true colors. Under pressure to pay for living expenses, Dawon’s education, and the advance payment plus interest that his great-uncle had paid to her former pimp, his mother eventually started working at another establishment he had introduced.

Her new workplace was worse than the previous one, and she had to see many more clients each day. Someone at the establishment gave his mother strange pills when she complained of fatigue.

Her condition deteriorated rapidly after she started taking the pills. She would laugh or cry for no reason, then fall asleep as if she had fainted, constantly scratching herself, claiming bugs were crawling on her skin.

“I have more paintings to finish.”

But despite the changes, his mother still loved and worried about him. Unable to tell her that he would be severely beaten if he didn’t meet his quota, Dawon mumbled an excuse.

Even at his short reply, his mother’s face crumpled as if she was about to cry. She caressed his hair and cheek with trembling hands, lamenting,

“Dawon, you’re so smart and talented. What good deeds did I do to deserve such a wonderful child? If only you were born into a good family. If only you had a proper mother, not a foolish one like me.”

He wanted to tell her not to say that, but he didn’t know if it would make her feel better or worse. To Dawon, who remained silent, his mother asked sadly,

“Dawon, don’t you want to go to school?”

“…I don’t want to go.”

“Why not? If you go to school, you’ll make lots of friends and do well in your studies.”

Dawon found her question more curious than sad. His mother didn’t seem to grasp their situation. She still seemed to believe that Dawon could go to school and live a normal life like other children.

Although he was only eleven, Dawon had long known. The uncles wouldn’t let him leave until he died or became useless.

“I’m okay.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dawon replied as cheerfully as he could. But since it had been a while since he had genuinely smiled, his smile must have looked awkward. His mother stroked his hair with a darkened expression.

“Okay. Time for bed, Kid. It’s time for children to sleep.”

He nodded and went back to his room, but since he still had to paint, he turned off all the lights and continued working, relying on the moonlight streaming through the window. And then he heard it. The sound he perhaps shouldn’t have heard.

Late into the night, he heard his mother and great-uncle’s voices coming from downstairs. His mother’s voice asking when Dawon could go to school was followed by his great-uncle’s evasive replies. When his mother pressed him with frustration, his great-uncle sneered openly.

“Lady. Think for a second. How can we send a kid who’s officially dead to school?”

It was common for his great-uncle to insult his mother like that. Normally, she would have been flustered but unable to talk back, but that day, she reacted with unusual sharpness.

“What did you say? How can you say something so shameless after making a perfectly healthy child appear dead?”

“What? Shameless?”

“Yes! Do you think I don’t know that you beat and starve Dawon when I’m not around? You said you would educate my child. You lied to me from the beginning! You said you would raise him properly!”

At his mother’s desperate cry, his great-uncle seemed momentarily taken aback, but he quickly raised his voice to match hers.

“W-What the hell is this all of a sudden? You, who would be on the streets if it weren’t for me, have the nerve to yell at me?”

“I’d rather be on the streets. I can’t live like this anymore! I’m taking Dawon and leaving. Right now!”

“What? Has this crazy bitch lost her mind?”

“No. I’m not just leaving. I’m going to report you to the police! I’ll tell them you’re confining a child here and abusing him! That you falsely reported his death, I’ll tell them everything!”

Though anxious about the escalating situation, young Dawon couldn’t understand why she was saying that. If she really wanted to leave, if she wanted to report them, she could have done so without yelling at his great-uncle.

Her desperate outburst was ultimately a plea for him to keep his promise. His mother hadn’t given up on her hopes for his great-uncle until the very end.

Unfortunately, his great-uncle wasn’t someone you could reason with. He seemed to have completely lost his mind when she threatened to report him.

“This fucking bitch wants to die, huh?”

“Agh! Let go!”

The argument quickly escalated into a physical fight. To be precise, it was the sound of his mother being beaten unilaterally. At that moment, both young Dawon, who had been painting, and the present Dawon, watching the dream unfold knowing the tragic ending, had the same thought.

Shouldn’t I go downstairs? Something terrible might happen if I don’t. Could he have stopped his great-uncle if he had gone down then?

“Agh! Aaagh!”

“This bitch, drugged out of her mind and can barely speak properly, has the nerve to run her mouth?”

“Ah, hu, uh, guh…”

“What? Report us? Go ahead, bitch. If you do…”

His mother, who had been beaten for a while, bit his great-uncle’s arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Y-You fucking bitch, you bit me?”

“Mmm, uh, ugh…!”

His great-uncle, screaming, started to retaliate. A dull thud echoed as he seemingly pushed his mother to the floor.

Chilled to the bone by the sound, Dawon couldn’t concentrate on his painting anymore. The moment he carefully opened the door and stepped into the hallway, an eerie silence sent shivers down his spine.

His mother wasn’t screaming anymore. Only the faint, horrifying sound of someone being choked, gurgling, filled the two-story house.

Dawon crouched down and peeked through the gap in the second-floor railing. His mother was slumped on the floor, her hair disheveled, her face bloodied, while his great-uncle was strangling her with both hands.

‘I have to stop him now.’

As he started to get up, his mother’s bloodshot eyes rolled towards him. Even in the darkness, her eyes spoke clearly. Don’t come, don’t come down.

Dawon’s body trembled, anticipating what was about to happen. Tears streamed down his face. Even with his vision blurred, he continued to watch his mother.

His mother’s blood-red face turned pale, and then she lost consciousness. In her final moments, her eyes, still open, held a look of guilt directed at Dawon. As if apologizing for being a foolish mother, just like she always did.

Dawon had dreamed this moment countless times, and each time, his mother died the same way. Each time, his chest ached with unspoken words he wanted to tell her. He pitied his mother, yet he also resented her.

He didn’t blame her for bringing him to that horrible two-story house. Even if the person who was deceived was foolish, the one who deceived was the truly guilty party. Still, Dawon wanted to say:

Mom. You shouldn’t have hoped. You shouldn’t have placed your hopes in people who didn’t deserve it.

See? This is what happened. Your beautiful face is horribly disfigured, your kind heart torn to shreds. Everything crumbled, and you died, choked to death.

You know, Mom, I needed you. Even if you were a foolish mother, I needed you. Why did you leave like that? You should have lived, even if it meant abandoning all hope, all expectations, even your feelings. You should have survived, even if it meant a life of resignation.

Dawon didn’t cry. At some point, he had stopped crying even when he had this dream. He simply woke up, feeling a crushing pain in his chest.

“Haa…”

His sigh ended with a bitter taste. It had been a while since he had this dream. The last time he dreamt of his mother’s death was July 14th, when he turned twenty, and now… it didn’t matter anymore.

He had stopped counting the days since he came here. He didn’t think about what time it was, or what he should be doing. He simply existed, numbly. In a state where it wouldn’t be strange if he simply vanished.

Soon, he heard a knock, and a man in a shirt and vest entered, pulling a trolley. Someone came to this room at every mealtime, setting the table with exquisite food. It was almost the only thing that marked the passage of time.

“Excuse me.”

Dawon knew that this was a hotel, and that you had to pay to stay in a hotel. He could guess that this room, and the food, were very expensive.

This man, who appeared to be a hotel employee, was in charge of bringing his lunch and dinner. He always glanced at Dawon with curious eyes while setting the table.

He was probably curious about the person who had been staying alone in this large suite for days, doing nothing, ordering room service only to leave most of it uneaten.

Even though he felt the gaze, Dawon thought it didn’t matter. He simply turned his head, listless and slumped on the bed like half-melted candle wax. His gaze fell on the large window of the bedroom.

‘It’s high, again today. The ground looks so far away.’

Every time he saw the city below, looking as small as an anthill, Dawon was reminded of the day he went out with Taehan. The flickering city lights outside the window. The feeling of being drunk, and that unreadable look in Taehan’s eyes.

When even that memory became unbearable, Dawon’s mind searched for other memories. Like the image of his second uncle falling from the two-story house, his head crushed. The nausea and shock he felt at that moment, the inexplicable guilt, returned vividly, making his head throb.

He knew it wasn’t good to dwell on it, but like most wounded people, Dawon felt the urge to pick at his barely healed scabs. The self-destructive urge reached further back, to the moment he jumped from the same spot as his second uncle, when he was eleven.

‘If those rocks had been there in the garden back then, I would have definitely died. Or if I jumped from here now, I would definitely die.’

Since arriving here, looking out that window, Dawon realized something he had long ignored. That day, when he jumped from the second floor, eleven-year-old Dawon hadn’t wanted to escape. He had wanted to die. He had wanted to end his life, devoid of hope and support.

Unfortunately, the fall was shorter than he expected, and he only lost an ankle, not his life. Knowing that another attempt might leave him in a state worse than death, he had chosen to live.

Life was more troublesome than death. He had to have a goal, make plans, focus, and hold on. Dawon’s life, spent crawling on his hands and knees at the very bottom, had made him resilient. There was nowhere further to fall.

Then, for a brief moment, when he was lifted up, Dawon forgot where he belonged. Lost in an unsuitable sweet dream, he began to fall again, and he realized that the place he had clung to all his life wasn’t the bottom.

Now he had to sink deeper, into an abyss where even screams couldn’t reach. Unlike when he was eleven, this fall was excruciatingly long. As he closed his eyes, the smell of food, mingled with fatigue, assaulted his senses. Dawon grimaced in disgust.

‘…I feel like I’m going to throw up.’

The thought of chewing and swallowing something that smelled so repulsive made him feel even worse. He hadn’t been eating for days to appease Taehan. He didn’t care about Taehan’s feelings in the slightest.

Thinking about Taehan ignited a fiery rage in Dawon’s heart, which he thought had turned to ashes. If anyone had the right to be angry, it was definitely him.

Yet, Taehan growling at him, touching him as if he were handling a criminal, was unbearably repulsive. He was forcing himself to eat only to avoid giving Taehan any excuse to berate him.

‘Right. There’s no need to be angry. I’ll just…’

But contrary to his inner resolve, Dawon’s anger flared easily at the smallest things. Limping towards the dining table, he stopped when he noticed something on the table in front of the living room sofa. Chocolates, a white sketchbook, and pencils.

It seemed like Taehan had brought them for him. Did he remember Dawon saying he liked chocolates? What did the sketchbook and pencils mean?

As he pondered the possible implications, his mood plummeted. Once his thoughts turned negative, they were hard to stop. He felt that the pencils on the table, the things Taehan had taught him, the times Taehan had kissed him and caressed him tenderly, were all for the same reason, making even the chocolates he liked seem repulsive.

‘Why am I like this, all of a sudden?’

It was strange that he felt such a surge of emotions over something he already knew. Dawon tried to go back to sleep. Like a child who believed the world disappeared when he closed his eyes, he tried to escape.

“Kid. How long are you going to keep this up? What will it take for you to eat properly?”

But why was Taehan acting like this? Even when Dawon tried to ignore him, Taehan continued to claw at his heart. He kept trying to force him to eat when he didn’t want to, and gave vague answers about leaving soon when Dawon asked to be let go.

“Where will you send me? Where should I go and paint now?”

Suspicion, anger, and irritation burst forth. Dawon’s sharp voice wavered precariously, like his mother’s on the day she was choked to death. That was why he had tried so hard to suppress his emotions.

He had resented his mother for harboring hopes, but Dawon was just like her. He had held onto hopes he shouldn’t have, throwing himself into a trap, betting everything on impossible odds. Unaware of the inevitable ending. Or rather, foolishly aware, yet still hopeful.

The self-loathing that tore at his chest fueled his anger even further. Dawon spewed hurtful words, barely aware of what he was saying.

“You know what…? You’re just like my uncles.”

Even this moment was the same. If he truly believed Taehan was like his uncles, he should have just silently despised and cursed him. But the reason he uttered those meaningless words in front of Taehan was because he still clung to a foolish hope.

“No, you’re worse than my uncles. I, I… was stupid.”

So this, disguised as an accusation, was actually a plea. A plea for Taehan to deny it. To deny all the unnecessary, cruel words he had spoken.

“I shouldn’t have met you. It would have been better if I hadn’t met someone like you, Mister.”

A plea for Taehan to tell him that the time they spent together, the things Taehan had given him, meant something. That those moments were the only light in his miserable life. Dawon was pleading, clumsily and desperately.

But the hope that had stubbornly refused to die was finally crushed. As expected, Taehan, filled with rage, pushed Dawon away with a cold expression.

Dawon’s light body fell silently onto the soft, plush bed. But to Dawon’s ears, the sound of his body shattering, the sound of the world collapsing on top of his broken pieces, was deafeningly clear.

“You’re smart, so you know this too, Kid. There’s no going back now. What am I going to do if you have more regrets, Kid? From now on, crying and begging won’t do you any good.”

Taehan’s strong arms and legs, like sturdy vines, pinned Dawon down. Dawon didn’t cry or shake his head. He simply replayed how he had ended up here.

It wasn’t entirely untrue that it would have been better if they hadn’t met. If he hadn’t met Taehan, if he hadn’t indulged in sweet, empty dreams, he wouldn’t be in so much pain.

But even knowing that, it was hard to let go of those moments. He wasn’t sure what happiness was, having never experienced it, but those moments were the closest he had ever come to feeling happy. Perhaps he had truly been happy. Even if it was a fleeting happiness destined to disappear.

More foolish questions welled up in his chest. Dawon wanted to ask Taehan why he had made him happy. Why he had given him a taste of sweetness, shown him a new world filled with light, only to push him into the deepest darkness and shatter him.

But before he could even part his lips, his pants were ripped off. While Dawon’s chest ached with humiliation, Taehan sighed at the sight of his exposed body.

“Ha.”

Dawon’s legs were even thinner than when he was confined to the studio, painting. His right leg, which barely moved, was especially withered and unsightly.

He had provoked Taehan with whatever words came to mind, but in reality, Dawon had no energy, let alone any sexual desire. As Taehan spread his legs, Dawon’s limp penis flopped lifelessly. Taehan frowned at Dawon’s dry entrance, as if disgusted.

Dawon thought Taehan would lose interest and give up. There was no way Taehan would be aroused by a dry, scentless Omega.

“Ugh, huh, uh…”

But the next moment, Dawon felt a wave of intense scent crashing into him. No, “wave” was too gentle a word to describe the shock he felt. It was more like a tsunami.

An overwhelmingly thick pheromone washed over Dawon, sending a shiver down his spine. The sweet scent made his head spin and nausea welled up in his throat.

Dawon realized then that Taehan’s words about regret weren’t empty threats. He was about to take Dawon in a completely different way than before.

“N-No.”

Gripped by primal fear, Dawon shook his head. His body, which had been trembling with weakness, stiffened and began to convulse. Like an animal moments before being devoured.

Looking up, he saw the bloodshot red in Taehan’s eyes. Steeped in arousal and rage, they held a cruel glint, mirroring the scent he was emitting. Even his usual suit seemed menacing. Dawon, even more terrified, thrashed and shook his head frantically.

“No. S-Stop. No!”

No matter how much he twisted and turned, his lower body remained immobile, pinned by Taehan’s knee. His arms, which he had tried to push against Taehan’s chest, were easily captured in one of Taehan’s hands.

“Stop? What have we even done yet for you to say that?”

Taehan ripped off his tie and wrapped it around Dawon’s wrists. He carelessly tossed aside Dawon’s bound hands and shifted his cold gaze back to the space between Dawon’s legs. Without a hint of a smile in his eyes, he crooked one corner of his mouth upwards.

“You say no, yet your ass is leaking like this.”

Only then did Dawon realize that his entrance, which had been dry just moments ago, was now soaked. So much fluid had leaked out that the sheets beneath him were damp. He felt his face burn with shame, as humiliating as Taehan’s words.

Dawon desperately bucked his hips, trying to cover himself. But before he could even shift his position, his legs were caught. Taehan spread his knees wide and pressed them against his chest.

His body, folded in half, was pressed flat against the bed, only his buttocks lifted high, presented right in front of Taehan’s face. Taehan muttered in disbelief.

“If you had said no twice, there would have been a flood.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Taehan’s finger flicked against Dawon’s perineum. A wet slap echoed, and the spot he touched throbbed. Fluid welled up inside him, and thicker slick leaked from his entrance.

“Aah, uhh…”

Dawon desperately shook his head. He didn’t want to react, but his body wouldn’t obey, overwhelmed by Taehan’s pheromones. Taehan, scoffing at Dawon’s resistance, continued to touch him with careless, indifferent strokes.

Dawon’s entrance twitched on its own, as if anticipating something, despite being tightly clenched. Taehan watched intently, his gaze unwavering.

“Why are you twitching like that?”

“No, huh, ah…”

Before he could even finish, Taehan roughly spread Dawon’s buttocks. Even the sound of his inhale, drawing in Dawon’s scent, was filled with greed. His cruel thumb pressed against Dawon’s entrance, then released, and not just the opening, but his inner walls as well, began to writhe, preparing to receive the alpha.

“No my ass. You’re practically begging for it.”

“No, no, th-ah, agh!”

The sound of a buckle being undone echoed between Taehan’s mocking words. Dawon cried out more desperately, but Taehan ignored him and began to push his cock into Dawon’s soaked, yet still tight entrance.

“Ah, huh, ugh!”

The unprepared act felt like nothing but violence. As the tip of his cock, slick with fluid, forced its way inside, a sharp pain shot through Dawon, as if he had been punched. His skin crawled with the sensation of tearing flesh and stretched muscles.

“Haa, uh, relax.”

Taehan’s low voice commanded. If relaxing would ease the pain, Dawon would gladly do so, but he couldn’t control his body when he could barely breathe from the pain.

“Huh, uh… agh!”

Thinking Dawon wasn’t listening, Taehan’s hand, which had been holding his entrance open, slapped his buttock. A sharp smack resonated, and a stinging pain spread across his skin.

Instead of relaxing, Dawon’s entrance instinctively clenched tighter around Taehan’s cock. Taehan’s face twisted into a savage grimace.

“Haa, ha…”

His panting breaths sounded like growls. Dawon realized that this act wasn’t bringing Taehan any pleasure either. Then why were they entangled in this painful embrace? Why were they hurting each other like this, as if bound by an inescapable fate?

Lost in his sorrowful thoughts, another wave of Taehan’s thick pheromones washed over him. The sharp scent seeped into his skin, spreading throughout his body. The forcibly induced arousal exploded in his head.

“Ah… uh, ha, uh…”

Even though he hadn’t felt any pleasure or arousal, a sharp wave of it slammed into him. His senses were overwhelmed, his mind unable to keep up. The tingling sensation was unpleasant, but fluid gushed from his walls as if he had reached a climax.

Taehan adjusted his grip on Dawon’s limp legs. The tip of his cock, which had only been partially inside, stretched the tight opening, then pushed in all the way to the base in one thrust.

“Uh, gasp…!”

Dawon’s hot, wet entrance eagerly welcomed the alpha’s cock. Simultaneously with the penetration, semen erupted from Dawon’s cock, which he hadn’t even realized was hard.

“Haa, uhh…”

Without giving him a moment to recover, Taehan began to move his hips relentlessly. With each thrust of his hard cock, wet sounds squelched from Dawon’s soaked entrance.

Dawon’s flat stomach, empty from days of not eating, bulged with each thrust, outlining the alpha inside him. His erect cock, oblivious to shame, twitched, spraying semen haphazardly.

The fishy scent of semen, the cloying sweetness of pheromones, and the damp smell of sweat mingled together. Pain and pleasure alternated in his mind, hazy with climax. If only it were just pain. Dawon felt like he was falling from a dizzying height, over and over again.

Taehan hadn’t even bothered to undress properly, just roughly unzipped his pants. The fabric and zipper scratched against Dawon’s sensitive skin, but he was too overwhelmed to notice such minor pains.

“Sob, huh, ugh.”

Dawon knew all too well that when the pain was too intense, you couldn’t even speak. All you could do was cry silently. His face was already soaked with tears.

Even as tears streamed down his face, Dawon kept his lips tightly shut. He didn’t want to cry out loud. He felt like something boiling inside him would overflow if he did.

It wasn’t just the physical pain that was tormenting him. It was because he remembered so vividly the last time Taehan had held him. He couldn’t forget. It was the first time anyone had treated him like that.

Taehan’s touch, so gentle and loving, as if Dawon was precious and cherished, his voice, his warmth, his rich scent… it had filled the empty spaces within him.

“Agh, ugh…!”

But now, with the same hands, lips, and skin, Taehan was brutally violating him. As if trying to overwrite everything that had been etched into Dawon’s body with a different color.

If Dawon hadn’t been so accustomed to pain, he would have broken down. He might have begged Taehan to stop, to hold him like he used to.

Perhaps Taehan was hoping for that. He was someone who only knew how to resolve tangled situations through domination. Perhaps he was being so cruel because he wanted Dawon to surrender, to give him another chance to hold him.

But Dawon didn’t know how to reach out to others. It was easier for him to endure until he passed out. As Dawon squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face beneath his bound arms, the fire in Taehan’s eyes intensified.

“Haa!”

The moment Taehan’s cock hit a certain spot deep inside him, Dawon let out a choked moan. Taehan, too, was looking down at him, his small face stubbornly set, his voice filled with tears, with an expression of pain.

Despite his pained expression, Taehan didn’t stop his merciless movements. He pulled back hard, stretching Dawon’s insides almost to the point of tearing, then thrust back into the same spot that had made Dawon shudder.

“Ah, huh, uh…!”

With a whimper, as if shivering, Dawon’s pheromones, which had been suppressed, finally leaked out. It was the thick, sweet scent of arousal, mixed with a green, unripe note. But unlike the previous scent that had overflowed with ecstasy, it now seeped out, stifled and constrained.

The scent, reeking of repulsion, seemed to fuel Taehan’s anger even more than his arousal. He tightened his grip on Dawon’s legs and pounded into him, relentlessly targeting his sensitive spots.

The repeated electric shocks felt like his nerves were being burned. After the intense tremors and pain, Dawon’s cock hardened again, leaking pre-cum.

“Uh… huh…”

His already heightened senses screamed. He felt like he would pass out if he came again. Already exhausted, Dawon thought that might be for the best. He could escape this pain if he lost consciousness.

He brought his bound hands down towards his lower body. He couldn’t properly grip or stroke himself because his wrists were tied tightly together, but his already aroused body felt like it could reach its peak with the slightest stimulation.

But the moment he brushed the back of his hand against his erect cock, Taehan’s hand reached out and grabbed it. Not to help, but to painfully squeeze the head of his cock, blocking his urethra.

“Uh, huh, ugh!”

Dawon moaned in pain, on the verge of climaxing just from Taehan’s touch. His mind was filled with the desperate urge to come, as if fueled by his frustration.

“Let go, huh, this, uh…”

“Who said you could cum?”

At Taehan’s cruel whisper, Dawon thrashed his shoulders in frustration. Ignoring his desperate movements, Taehan continued to thrust, preventing him from coming.

“Huh, uhh, ha…”

“Haa… You said you knew what an omega is good for. If you know, then, ha, show me, Kid.”

“Ha, uhh!”

Taehan’s relentless movements, like punishment, targeted the spots that brought Dawon the most pain. It felt like explosions were going off in Dawon’s head.

The pain was enough to make him lose consciousness, even without coming. His eyes rolled back several times, but each time, the sharp smack of flesh against flesh brought him back.

The trapped sensations accumulated and swelled inside him. A familiar yet strange feeling of climax approached.

“Ugh, I, haa, uh… gasp!”

Even though Taehan’s hand was still gripping his cock, blocking his release, Dawon’s toes curled and his head snapped back, as if he was coming. His mind went white, and a tingling, throbbing sensation spread through his lower body.

His muscles quivered. His entrance, gripping the alpha’s cock, convulsed the most violently. Taehan’s neck flushed red at the tight, squeezing movements.

“Haa, uh, ha…”

After a series of deep, rhythmic thrusts, Taehan pulled out and spilled his seed onto Dawon’s stomach. Even in the white haze of climax, Dawon could smell the thick alpha scent covering him.

His abused inner walls twitched, as if missing the cock that was no longer there, despite the dull ache. Even the feeling of his body trembling amplified the unpleasant pleasure.

“Haa.”

Taehan gazed down at Dawon, his flushed skin trembling, his eyes hazy with afterglow. After a long moment, he released his grip, and a thin stream of semen leaked from the tip of Dawon’s cock.

Dawon, his mind blank, felt neither shame nor the strange intimacy of their fluids mingled on his body. He simply went limp. Contrary to his hopes, he hadn’t lost consciousness, and the lingering pain and pleasure remained.

As he lifted his hazy eyes, he met the gaze of the man pinning him down. His dark grey eyes were still sharp, but now held a hint of tenderness. Perhaps it was just Dawon’s loneliness, but they also seemed tinged with sadness.

Just the meeting of their gazes made Dawon’s heart ache. He felt like he would want to say something if he looked any longer. As he quickly averted his gaze…

“Haa, mm…!”

As if sensing his weakening resolve, Taehan cupped Dawon’s face with a trembling hand and lowered his head, kissing him. A ticklish warmth flowed between their lips.

It was just a kiss. Not a deep, passionate one with intertwined tongues, but a light, soft press of lips. Yet, this simple kiss was unbearably difficult for Dawon.

During the painful sex, he had been able to clench his teeth and endure, but now, he felt the urge to open his lips and accept the kiss. Even more foolishly, he felt the urge to crumble into Taehan’s arms.

He felt pathetic that such feelings remained, even now, at this point of no return. As much as he resented Taehan, he wanted to surrender to him. Just like when he first saw Taehan, Dawon wanted to tell him everything. Even though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

But it was dangerous, precarious. Opening his heart to Taehan had left him deeply wounded. The betrayal he felt had been more painful than anything else he had experienced in his difficult life.

‘I don’t want that. I never want to experience that again.’

The fear of repeating the same mistake, of being hurt again, jolted him awake. Dawon clenched his teeth and bit down hard on Taehan’s lower lip, which was caressing his own.

“Ow!”

The taste of blood was cold and metallic. Taehan flinched and pulled back, his eyes mirroring Dawon’s own confusion, regret, self-loathing, and rage.

“…Ha.”

But Taehan was looking down at Dawon from a completely different place. Unlike Dawon, who had lived his life being trampled on, Taehan had the power to trample on others.

With a chillingly cold smile, Taehan flipped Dawon over onto his stomach. The sudden loss of vision, his arms still bound, sent a shiver of fear through Dawon. He instinctively tried to lift his head and look back.

“Ugh, guh.”

His futile resistance was immediately suppressed. Taehan’s large hand pressed down hard on the back of his neck. His face was pressed into the bed, his hips lifted obscenely high.

“Agh…!”

Without warning, but as an inevitable next step, Taehan thrust into him. Dawon’s entrance, slick with semen and lubricant, swallowed Taehan’s cock.

The hard, thick cock, feeling even larger than before, pounded against his inner walls. He felt no emotion, no sensation from Taehan’s relentless thrusts.

As he had first sensed, Taehan was taking him in a completely different way than before. No, “taking” wasn’t the right word. It was just sex, just thrusting and pounding.

Dawon remembered the first time he met Taehan. His indifferent expression as he was on top of the omega lying beneath him. Taehan had probably treated every omega he called like this. Like a tool to be used and discarded.

“Mmm, huh, ha…”

Now, surrendering completely to Taehan, Dawon felt like he had become nothing but a tight, wet hole. His only purpose was to twitch and spurt as Taehan thrust into him.

Every time Taehan’s angry cock scraped against his insides and pulled out, an embarrassing amount of fluid leaked from Dawon’s entrance. The soaked spot became sticky as it was repeatedly pounded.

Taehan was watching their point of connection with a gaze as slick as their mingled fluids. Dawon couldn’t imagine how obscene it must look, but he didn’t have the energy to care about such shame.

His swollen inner walls were completely stretched. His insides felt so full that it felt like his sternum was being pierced, his heart crushed. The skin of his abused lower body stung, and his head spun with dizziness.

“Haa, huh, uh…”

The moans he couldn’t suppress were half-muffled by the bed and half-swallowed back down his throat. His breath caught in his chest, he couldn’t think straight. Taehan roughly grabbed his weakening waist and pulled it up.

“Arch your back.”

“Ha, uh, s-stop. Huh!”

A plea escaped his lips, but Taehan wasn’t going to listen now. Without a word, he pulled back slightly, then slammed back into the same spot.

“Ugh!”

Taehan’s cock, deeper than ever, hit a sensitive spot deep inside him. Startled by the feeling of something being caught, Dawon’s body convulsed.

“Haa, there, no, don’t. Aah…”

Dawon shook his head as if in a trance, but Taehan, seemingly relishing the feeling of being gripped, let out a ragged breath.

It felt like he was about to hit a spot he shouldn’t. Gripped by a chilling premonition, Dawon used his elbows to inch towards the headboard, trying to create some distance. But his efforts only served to provoke the alpha behind him.

“Haa, where do you think you’re going, Kid?”

Taehan’s relentless hand grabbed Dawon’s hip and pulled him closer. The moment Dawon’s lower body slammed against him, Taehan’s thick cock forced its way deeper, past Dawon’s inner walls.

“Ha, huh!”

Dawon’s waist and hips trembled uncontrollably. His insides felt so full he thought he would be sick. He felt nothing but tightness and pain, yet semen spurted from his cock, which he hadn’t even realized was hard.

“Haa, haa…”

Holding Dawon’s half-conscious body, Taehan began to pound into him. Dawon’s soaked entrance, slick with their mingled fluids, felt limp and yielding, yet spasmodically clenched around Taehan’s cock.

The squelching sounds echoed inside him. He scratched at the sheets with his tied-up hands, but his fingertips only turned white, unable to steady his trembling body.

“Ah, uh, uh.”

White flashes flickered before his eyes, then narrowed. With each flash, Dawon shuddered, letting out inarticulate moans. He already felt like a slaughtered animal, and now a cold voice came from behind him.

“Why are you leaking so much, Kid?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Every time I thrust, you’re cumming. Fuck, do you like it that much?”

Only after hearing Taehan’s mocking words did Dawon realize that a clear fluid was leaking from the tip of his still-hard cock. The sheets beneath his chest and knees were soaked.

He felt a momentary pang of fear, wondering if he had sprung a leak from the pain. But as Taehan thrust deep inside him again, Dawon realized that the fluid wasn’t urine.

A shiver ran down his spine, followed by a tightening in his lower abdomen, and a dizzying sensation spread through his nerves. It wasn’t the urge to urinate, but something closer to pleasure. No, it was undeniable pleasure.

“Haa, uh, huh…!”

With each of Taehan’s thrusts, Dawon’s cock twitched, leaking fluid. Not just that unknown fluid, but wetness leaked from his eyes, nose, and mouth as well. Even his panting breaths were damp.

His mind must be malfunctioning from the prolonged pain. His senses seemed to have become distorted, turning even the pain and humiliation into pleasure, as if it were the only way to endure this.

At some point, Dawon gave up. It didn’t matter anymore. He had lived his whole life knowing only the confines of a small room and a garden as his entire universe, so if this act, which felt like his body was being torn apart, felt like pleasure, then he would accept it.

“Mm, haa…”

He couldn’t think anymore anyway. He was almost relieved that his mind had gone blank. There was nothing to be gained from struggling to think, remember, and hope.

If Taehan was going to treat him like a tool, he would just react to the stimulation like a tool. A tool wouldn’t feel betrayal, self-loathing, or even pain, so it was better that way.

“Haa, huh, uh.”

Taehan’s body, hot and swollen like heated iron, was also nearing its limit. His thrusts became more frantic, digging deeper. The intervals between the lightning strikes in Dawon’s mind grew shorter.

“Ha, kuh…!”

Taehan’s grip on Dawon tightened, and he thrust his cock in as deep as it could go, then quickly pulled out. Even after coming on Dawon’s bruised buttocks, he continued to grind his cock between Dawon’s thighs, breathing roughly, as if his anger hadn’t subsided.

He seemed frustrated that he hadn’t cum inside Dawon. As if he wanted to leave an irreversible mark on him.

After panting for a while, Taehan grabbed Dawon’s hair, which was pressed against the bed. He roughly flipped Dawon over so he was facing him.

“Haa, ha, huh.”

Dawon, suddenly pulled upright, gasped for breath. Taehan abruptly thrust his cock in front of Dawon’s face. Still hard and engorged, covered in their mingled fluids.

“Suck it.”

A cold command followed. Taehan’s eyes burned with a senseless desire to force his seed inside Dawon.

Dawon wasn’t curious why he wanted that. He had bitten Taehan’s tongue when he had tried to kiss him gently, but now, he didn’t even have the will to resist.

Dawon supported Taehan’s cock with his bound hands. He opened his mouth wide and swallowed the slick tip, the bitter, fishy taste making him gag.

“Ugh, huh… mm! Ugh…”

When Dawon hesitated, Taehan grabbed the back of his head and began to pump his hips, forcing himself into Dawon’s open mouth. The sensitive flesh inside his mouth and his throat were crushed.

The pain brought tears to his eyes. It wasn’t a pain he could endure by simply waiting for it to pass. Taehan’s heat and anger didn’t seem to have subsided in the slightest. When this was over, another unimaginable pain might follow.

Yet, Dawon felt strangely calm. Perhaps he would feel some relief after being completely trampled. Perhaps then, even the lingering attachments deep within his heart would be ripped away.

Broken and worn down, Dawon instinctively knew how to prevent his wounds from deepening. He had been hurt by foolish hopes, so it was time to give up.

Dawon decided to give up on Taehan, and on himself.