8
Taking the drug had become a fixed part of his routine.
As usual, Sungho swallowed the pill and lay sprawled on the floor, his body trembling with arousal, unable to control himself. The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. Now, just the sound of shoes clicking was enough to make his cock twitch. His body had grown so accustomed to being violated that, in his drugged and excited state, even the most mundane sensations felt like stimulation.
But today, the footsteps belonged to only one person. When the door opened, Sungho rubbed his face against the man’s shoes and clutched at his pant leg. A scoffing laugh filled the space.
“…Hyung, you’re really in heat.”
The man looking down at him with amusement was Hyeontae. Normally, just clinging to someone like this would’ve been enough to get his ass spread and fucked immediately, but today was different. Sungho blinked up at him, his mind too fogged to recognize the man he was clinging to.
“I imagined you like this twenty years ago, but I never thought it’d actually happen.”
Hyeontae crouched down, smiling as he met Sungho’s gaze. “You look so good when you’re obedient,” he murmured, stroking Sungho’s hair. Even the slight tug on his strands sent shivers through his overstimulated body.
“Fuck me… put it in…”
His words were slurred, desperate. But Hyeontae had no intention of indulging him. Instead, he held out a thick anal bead set.
“Hyung, we’re not supposed to be doing this, you know. If Hyeonjun found out, he’d be so disappointed in you. But… for old time’s sake, I should at least comfort you, right?”
His smirk was infuriating. Sungho stared blankly at the beads, his body trembling with need. He fumbled, dropping them repeatedly before finally managing to press the first one against his entrance. His well-used hole took it easily.
“Nngh… ha, ah… uhn, ah…”
The beads started small—barely the size of a fingertip—but grew thicker toward the end. Once he’d pushed the last one in, Sungho groaned, his fingers digging roughly into his own hole, as if it still wasn’t enough. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers and the beads filling him echoed in the glass-walled room. Hyeontae watched silently before stopping his movements.
“Hyung, this is one of our company’s hottest products right now. Seems like you like it. If you hold this part and release the lock…”
A click, and the rod securing the beads slid free. Instantly, Sungho’s body was filled with the full weight of them. Before he could protest the loss of stimulation, Hyeontae pulled a small bottle from his pocket—a vial of red liquid. He tilted Sungho’s chin up and poured it into his mouth. Half spilled down his chin, but Hyeontae didn’t mind. He poured another dose, watching Sungho’s unfocused reaction.
Sungho panted, legs spread, as the racing in his chest slowly settled. The nausea and headache that usually followed these encounters crept in, but not enough to make him sick. His breathing steadied, and as his senses returned, he realized only one person stood before him.
“Ugh… y-you…”
“Finally coming to your senses?”
Hyeontae’s voice carried a strange, nostalgic edge. Where had he heard it before? And his face—why did it feel so familiar?
“Y-you… you’re…”
“Hm. Took you long enough to recognize me.”
“Hyeontae… Hyeontae? Lee Hyeontae…?”
“That’s right.”
Hyeontae smiled, almost proudly, as if pleased Sungho had guessed correctly. Twenty years since they’d last seen each other.
“What the hell… is this…?”
Sungho’s voice wavered, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. Why was Hyeontae standing here, so polished, so composed, in front of him like this?
“Where should I even start? What do people usually say when they reunite after so long? ‘Been well?’ Doesn’t look like it, though.”
“You… you… why—no, forget that—”
Realizing he was naked, legs spread, beads still stuffed inside him, Sungho flushed and curled inward. The beads shifted, grinding against his inner walls, and he barely stifled a moan. Hyeontae chuckled at the reaction—so very him.
“You know, in dramas, when someone out of the blue sends a message after years of no contact, it’s usually for one reason.”
Hyeontae pulled a gold-embossed card from his suit pocket and handed it to Sungho with a smirk.
“I’m marrying Yu-jin next month.”
“W-what?”
“Getting married. I wanted to invite you, so I came to see you in person. We’re not that estranged, after all. Sending just a message would’ve been too impersonal.”
“Wh-what the hell…”
Sungho couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The floor beneath him felt like it was crumbling, as if he were floating, untethered from reality.
For a split second, he flashed back to Hyeonjun answering a call—“Dad.”
“Y-you—!”
Sungho’s voice cracked. Hyeontae glanced at his watch, feigning politeness.
“Ah, I’ve got an important meeting. I’ll have to come back later. It’s been so long—I must’ve picked a bad time.”
With that same infuriating smile, Hyeontae closed the glass door and left. Sungho was left trembling, a storm of betrayal and shock and a hundred other emotions churning inside him. His palms were clammy.
Hyeonjun’s father… is Lee Hyeontae?
It made no sense.
The last person he’d expected to be behind this was Hyeontae. The man in his memories had been quiet, unassertive—someone who’d never dream of kidnapping, imprisonment, or rape. The idea that he was capable of something so deranged was unthinkable.
Why?
The question gnawed at him. He couldn’t think of anything else. The faceless villain he’d imagined—the monster who’d locked him up—was Hyeontae. It was impossible.
Normally, he’d rush to wash himself after being defiled, but this time, he didn’t even bother. The men who came for him jeered, telling him to push out the beads himself, forcing him to perform like an animal in heat. They even counted aloud as each bead slipped free—one, two… Under normal circumstances, the humiliation would’ve reduced him to tears, but now, he obeyed numbly, as if he’d become someone else entirely.
He lay on the floor, filthy and exhausted, when footsteps approached again. Not the usual sound of meal delivery. Sungho tensed but couldn’t bring himself to move. His body ached.
“…Hello. You look well.”
“…Why did you do this?”
“Just a greeting, but since you’ve got the energy to ask questions, I guess you are doing well. ‘Why’? What do you mean?”
“Why the hell did you do this to me, you bastard!”
Sungho’s veins bulged in his neck as he shouted. Any sane person would’ve been too stunned to speak if their captor suddenly appeared before them, but Sungho was already half-mad.
“Why do you think?”
Hyeontae countered calmly. Sungho glared, breath ragged, too furious to answer. If I knew, would I be asking?
“I asked because I thought you already knew the answer.”
“I don’t know! Do I owe you money or something?!”
“Ah, right. You were a deadbeat. But no, that’s not it.”
“Then what is it?!”
“Hyung. Have you ever felt like you were punishing yourself?”
“Wh-what the hell are you talking about…?”
“Let’s think about this honestly, you and I.”
“Even if I did do something wrong, what’s it got to do with you?!”
“Why wouldn’t it? I’m about to be Yu-jin’s husband.”
At the mention of Yu-jin’s name, Sungho bit his lip until it bled. His chapped, overused lips split easily under the pressure.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
