“H-How… Nngh. F-Fuck…”
Jihan’s face paled, drained of all color. His lips trembled as he bit back vicious curses, but the slick, swollen walls inside him clung desperately to the invading man, refusing to expel him. Instead, they pulsed greedily around the thick, merciless shaft, as if begging for more.
“Nnngh… Ahh, nngh…”
The glans churned through the remnants of spent cum inside him, dragging it out in sticky strands. Pearly fluids dripped heavily onto the bedding beneath them, pooling in obscene rivulets.
Seon gazed down at the mess with an inscrutable expression, his eyes fixed on the spectacle. Jihan slowly released his grip on the other man’s shoulders. Seon’s stare remained locked below.
Jihan propped himself up on trembling knees, cautiously pulling away from the man. His thighs quivered as he inched back, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, his eyes never leaving Seon’s face—searching for any shift in his demeanor.
“…Agh!”
But his hair was suddenly seized, his face slammed back into the bedding. Despair crashed over him like a wave. Every joint in his body shook.
“Let go… You insane bastard. I can’t— I can’t take any more…”
It was horrific. The bedding, soaked through with sweat, saliva, fluids, and semen, clung to his forehead. His entire body was a grotesque canvas of bodily excretions. Jihan shuddered, but the hands gripping his waist and yanking his thighs apart showed no mercy.
A knee pressed into the bed, pinning his chest against the damp fabric. The hands behind him adjusted his body relentlessly—pushing down his lower back, spreading his inner thighs, lifting his hips to ease the brutal penetration. The swollen, reddened hole, still leaking cum, was probed by the glans, teased with slow, deliberate strokes before plunging in with unexpected, violent speed.
“Nngh! H-Hah!”
From above, the man began to pound into him without restraint.
“……”
Jihan couldn’t even cry. He couldn’t make a sound. His mouth hung open, his tongue nearly bitten from the recoil. He clenched the bedding, his tightly shut eyes twitching with spasms he couldn’t control.
“…Ugh.”
He no longer knew what was pain. The hands that spread his cheeks apart with a sharp slap, then buried him deep before grinding up and down—it felt like his insides were being pulverized. Jihan froze, breath stolen, drool leaking from his slackened mouth. Only when his mind teetered on the edge of oblivion did his breath rush out in a ragged gasp.
“Haaah…”
His limp body collapsed onto the bed. As if waiting for this, the man pressed down on top of him, sandwiching Jihan between the mattress and Seon’s weight. Jihan’s vision whited out. His ass, crushed under the other man’s pelvis, spread obscenely around the thick cock pistoning in and out, swallowing it with wet, lewd sounds.
“Huu… Nnngh.”
“A-Ah! Nngh, h-hah!”
Seon’s large hand slid over Jihan’s trembling flank. Jihan flinched. Fingers dug into his armpit, gripping his shoulder tightly before the man’s entire body slammed down onto him—thud, thud—like a hammer driving nails. Sparks exploded behind his eyelids. Then, a scalding flood of cum gushed deep inside him. A low groan vibrated against his nape, hot breath nipping at his skin. Jihan blinked dazedly, his face still mashed into the bedding, yet he could see—or imagine—Seon’s dark, looming figure above him.
***
“Maki, were you here too?”
Dawn was breaking. The servants, their bellies stuffed with the wine and meat their masters had doled out, lay sprawled across the floor, snoring loudly. Maki was curled up in the farthest corner of the servants’ quarters, his face buried in his knees.
Gaenom the old steward shook Maki’s shoulder. Maki lifted his head, his face more gaunt than usual after a sleepless night.
“A-Ajeossi…”
“You little rat, what’re you doing here too? Who’s gonna prepare the young masters’ wash water and breakfast?”
“……”
“You sick or something?”
Last night, overcome with fear, Maki had fled and spent the night at Gaenom’s lodgings. He’d been certain Jihan would storm in at any moment, furious, and beat him senseless for “ruining the rice” at the last minute. But no word came from the main house, even as dawn approached.
A chill ran down his spine. The empty main house filled him with dread. Had Jihan, in his terrifying rage, strangled Seon’s unconscious body and caused some irreversible harm? Or had he taken matters into his own hands, settling things before Grand Secretary Choi’s return, and gone out to find a stand-in for Maki’s role?
“Ai, after a night of fun, now we gotta work our asses off. The life of a damn servant, I swear.”
“Well, at least we greased up proper. Should shit smooth as butter now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The servants grumbled, stretching as they prepared to return to the main house. Then Maki remembered the locks.
‘No way Jihan-doryeonnim left the gates unbarred…’
The thought jolted him upright.
“Gaenom Ajeossi, I’ll go ahead to the main house and prepare the young masters’ wash water.”
“Do that. The master in the annex should be waking up soon too.”
The main house was just a stone’s throw from Gaenom’s lodgings—past the ancestral shrine, separated by a single wall from the servants’ quarters.
Maki hurried around the wall and tugged at the main gate. The lock rattled; it was still barred from the inside.
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the outer wall by the annex’s fermentation jar storage—the same spot he’d scaled the night before. An old paulownia tree grew beside it, its branches perfect for climbing. He shimmied up and dropped into the inner courtyard.
The house was eerily silent.
The door to the main hall—unused since Lady Shin’s passing—stood wide open. Maki tilted his head.
‘Did something happen in the main house? The courtyard’s a mess…’
First, he unlocked all the bolts securing the house. Then he headed to the small study where Jihan usually stayed. He called out, but there was no answer.
‘…No way.’
Was he still in the annex?
Maki quickened his pace toward the side gate leading to the annex. That’s when he noticed strange bloodstains on the carefully raked soil of the inner courtyard.
‘What the…?’
He crouched for a closer look—
“Ah… Nnngh. N-Nngh…”
Maki’s ears pricked up. A faint, familiar moan—distorted yet unmistakable—drifted from beyond the annex’s courtyard.
His hands trembled as he pushed open the gate. The sound grew louder. There was no mistaking it: it came from the largest room in the annex—Seon’s quarters.
He stepped onto the stone path leading to the veranda, then hesitated. The wooden floorboards might creak if he walked normally, so he dropped to his knees, crawling cautiously toward the papered sliding door. Beyond it lay a corridor, and at its end, another door—Seon’s room.
Maki’s shaking hand reached for the round door handle.
“Please… I—I’m gonna die… Nnngh. U-Ungh…”
It was wrong. It couldn’t be.
This voice—it had to belong to someone he knew. The man it came from was notoriously taciturn, a scholar who rarely spoke unless necessary. In all the years Maki had served as his personal attendant—fifteen, ever since he’d been chosen to wait on him—he’d rarely heard his voice at all.
But fifteen years was a long time. Long enough to recognize it no matter how distorted—whether laced with metallic agony, nasal whimpers, sobs, or ragged, panting breaths.
This was Choi Jihan’s voice.
A cold dread seized him. Maki clapped a hand over his mouth, frozen in place, fingers still wrapped around the door handle.
The wet slap of flesh and the leaking, desperate moans grew louder.
He couldn’t bring himself to open the door. After a long hesitation, he spat on his index finger and pressed it against the paper pasted over the door’s lattice. The damp paper stuck slightly, then tore away as he peeked through the hole.
The room was in chaos. The bed curtains were torn, the bedding exposed in disarray.
“Nngh… H-Hah! Nnngh. H-Huu…”
“Haa… Ha.”
“S-Stop… P-Please, nnngh—”
Maki had never seen him like this.
Jihan had always been meticulous, bordering on obsessive—fastidious about order, about cleanliness. Even when dead drunk, he never lost composure. Yet here he was—
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
