The day Inho first met Haon. He was quite drunk.
Although he was the type who didn’t show it outwardly, and no one around him would’ve guessed, his mind was hazy, as if the alcohol had turned into water.
It had been a particularly awful day. He’d tried to drown the shadows looming over his thoughts with alcohol. And if the booze didn’t work, he’d been ready to try something else.
“I’m hungry….”
Before that could happen, Haon had clung to him. Desperately, with hands soaked in tears. As if he would die if Inho shook him off.
“I… I’m hungry….”
Haon mumbled in a slurred voice and nuzzled his nose against Inho’s neck. Even though he couldn’t sense pheromones, he buried his nose into Inho’s skin like he was trying to breathe in his scent.
“We’re almost there.”
Recalling the first time they’d met, Inho gently patted Haon’s head and asked him to hang in there just a bit longer.
Sitting on Inho’s lap, Haon couldn’t keep still—his arms and legs constantly twitching. The two of them were in the back seat of a long sedan, not the sports car Inho had originally driven. The vehicle had been summoned by a single call, bringing Inho’s driver and secretary out.
“Haon-ssi, just a little longer.”
Inho reached out to touch the red-bruised cheek cautiously, trying to meet Haon’s gaze. But Haon’s trembling pupils slid past him and fixed on the window instead.
Every time the car stopped momentarily, Haon burst into tears and struggled wildly, as if trying to get help from someone outside. To a stranger unaware of the context, it might’ve looked like he was being abducted.
“Hngh… my stomach… it really hurts.”
Haon clutched his emaciated belly like he was trying to pinch it, sobbing. The hunger had become so severe it now resembled pain.
“I feel like I’m gonna die….”
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as his temperature spiked. Inho tried to bring a water bottle to his lips, thinking he had to get something—anything—into him. But the crying only intensified.
Haon didn’t want water; he wanted food that could actually fill his stomach. Even though he wouldn’t be able to eat it.
Just before leaving the restroom, he’d thrown up all the popcorn he had stuffed down his throat. Having witnessed that, Inho couldn’t bring himself to give him food again.
“Should I offer him some chocolate?”
The secretary in the front passenger seat, unable to keep watching Haon’s relentless search for food, finally asked. He was the personal secretary to a member of the Hansung Group’s owner family.
“Or maybe we could stop by a nearby restaurant—”
“It’s fine.”
The curt refusal came like a blade. The secretary simply bowed his head with a calm expression. He looked thoroughly accustomed to Inho’s cold demeanor. Cleaning up after Inho’s messes didn’t seem new to him either, and he didn’t bother asking about the details.
Not that he wasn’t curious. He just didn’t show it outwardly.
Still, it puzzled him—why had Inho, who had been quiet since arriving in Korea, suddenly beaten someone like a dog? And more importantly, who was this Omega that he was handling so delicately?
“Ah, heh…”
Haon let out a feverish moan as he clutched his stomach.
The driver and the secretary did their best to shut their ears and ignore whatever was happening in the back seat.
“How much longer?”
“We’ll arrive in under ten minutes.”
At the secretary’s calm reply, Inho sighed, then took off his jacket and draped it over Haon’s legs.
“Turn the music up.”
The secretary promptly hit play and raised the volume.
The Omega’s wet, breathy moans were drowned out by the loud music.
***
Beep—
Holding Haon with one arm, Inho opened the front door and let the limp body rest briefly against the inner entranceway. Then he knelt down and gently removed Haon’s shoes one by one.
Since stepping out of the car, Haon had become utterly drained. His lips parted silently, moving without a sound. Judging by the shape of his mouth, he seemed to be repeating the same words over and over—asking for food.
He neither had the strength to push Inho away nor to cling to him, and yet below, he remained stiffly aroused.
“Should we go to your room, Haon-ssi?”
Inho asked, hoping Haon would hear his voice and meet his gaze.
“Or do you want to go upstairs?”
The empty, vacant look in Haon’s eyes stung him. It pained Inho to see him suffering like this, helpless against the strange symptoms plaguing his own body.
The thought that Haon was scavenging whatever food he could find, only to survive for days on liquids once his heat ended, made Inho sigh endlessly.
“Haon-ssi.”
He called him gently, smoothing out his expression to sound more affectionate. Usually, those round eyes would be on him even without being called—but now, they wouldn’t look his way at all.
Haon just stared blankly into the void.
‘Please… just look at me.’
“Haon-ah.”
After calling him Haon-ssi again and again, Inho softened it to Haon-ah.
It was because Haon was gripping the inner doorway with a death grip. His whole body trembled with fear, and Inho could no longer force him to move. He had to coax him, speak gently.
Should he wait until Haon calmed down a bit? Or should he—
Wearing a conflicted expression, Inho ran a hand over his face. And just then, their eyes met—deep brown irises locking with his own.
To his surprise, Haon was looking directly at him.
“…Mm.”
A sluggish reply, like a faint echo of being called.
Inho froze for a second, then slowly leaned down to meet Haon’s eye level.
“You don’t want to go in?”
Haon nodded.
“Why?”
The fear-stricken gaze darted away into the void again. Haon trembled as he swallowed repeatedly, lower lip quivering, and finally repeated the same words once more.
“I’m hungry….”
He wasn’t in any state for conversation.
Inho gently stroked the back of Haon’s tense hand.
“Haon-ah, let’s go in.”
Hearing his name again, the tight grip Haon had on the inner doorway slowly loosened.
“I’ll give you something delicious.”
The moment he heard the promise of food, Haon opened his mouth and reached out toward Inho. Inho welcomed him into his arms, lifting the trembling body with ease.
He held the burning-hot body close—not toward the kitchen, but to the bedroom.
***
“Haahk, ah…!”
Haon’s thigh trembled violently as he climaxed again for who-knows-how-many times.
From between his round, clenched cheeks, a mix of sweat and semen dripped down in a viscous trail. Inho spread it with his hand like lotion, gripping Haon’s hips even more tightly.
He didn’t give Haon a moment to come down from the peak of his orgasm before thrusting in again. Haon’s body trembled as he gasped, clinging to the sheets. Inho extended a hand for him to hold, as if to tell him to grab onto him—but Haon only clutched the sheets tighter.
With a short sigh, Inho lifted one of Haon’s legs and placed it on his shoulder, plunging in deeper. A cry, almost like a scream, tore from Haon’s mouth, now gaping wide.
That cracked voice made Inho’s brows crease slightly. But even then, he didn’t stop.
He pushed Haon to the limit until every ounce of his strength was drained. Even as Haon gagged weakly, Inho held his thin body close and kept thrusting into his inner walls.
Only when Haon was gasping like he truly couldn’t take anymore did Inho pause, wiping his tears away—gently stroking his swollen eyelids, brushing and licking the reddened corners of his eyes with his fingers and mouth.
Then, before long, once the sobbing quieted down, Haon began to move his hips again on his own. Just like now.
“More, ngh, moreee….”
When Inho didn’t thrust in all the way to the base, Haon tried to open himself wider, reaching in with his own fingers as if to stretch his entrance.
Inho stopped that hand, overlapping their thighs and pressing him down as he buried himself fully inside.
His loosened entrance, already stretched far past its limits, swallowed Inho’s cock to the hilt without resistance.
In the silence above the bed, only the lewd squelch of wet skin meeting wet skin echoed through the room.
Their bodies stayed connected without pause, but their eyes never met.
Inho looked at Haon the entire time, but Haon’s hollow, chestnut-brown gaze only lingered on the ceiling or the walls.
“Haah….”
Drenched in sweat, Inho pulled off the condom and pressed his aching forehead with one hand.
The headache he’d managed to suppress earlier with painkillers was starting to flare up again.
After covering Haon’s sprawled body with a blanket, Inho picked up all the trash scattered on the floor.
He shoved it into the empty condom box, then stepped out of the room.
The hallway lights hit his eyes sharply after being in the darkened bedroom. Outside the living room window—bare of curtains—thick raindrops continued to fall.
It had been raining nonstop for two days now. And just as relentless was Haon’s arousal, refusing to subside.
Every time Haon stirred awake over those two days, Inho held him until he passed out again. If Haon didn’t feel filled from below, he would immediately start searching for food. Unless something was inside him, he wouldn’t stop crying.
Because of that, Inho had spent nearly the entire time physically joined with him.
‘Maybe tomorrow will be better.’
He threw on a thin robe and sat at the kitchen table, drinking some water. But the thirst didn’t go away.
He cracked open a can of beer, and the moment he drank it, the headache throbbed harder.
In the end, he tossed the half-finished can and searched for painkillers. He knew full well that mixing them with alcohol was bad, but he popped the pill anyway.
He’d been told countless times by his primary doctor to quit drinking, but he had no intention of doing so.
He often came out to the living room alone in the dead of night, after Haon fell asleep, to drink. Almost every night, without fail, he reached for alcohol.
What exactly was it that made him so dependent on the bottle?
If Haon had seen this side of him, he surely would’ve been curious. But Haon didn’t know that Inho couldn’t fall asleep without alcohol.
He didn’t know that the sound of rain plunged Inho into a deep melancholy. That the silence drove him to call people over or show up at pointless drinking parties just to fill the void.
There were still too many things Haon didn’t know about Inho. Not a single thing he truly understood.
Thud!
Just as Inho was staring blankly out at the gloomy rain, a loud noise came from Haon’s room.
Snapping back to focus, Inho rushed toward the source of the sound.
‘He’s up again.’
Haon had fallen from the bed and was now crawling toward the small refrigerator next to the nightstand.
His legs lacked the strength to move, so he dragged himself forward using only his arms.
Inho scooped him up in one swift motion and laid him back on the bed. Haon’s breath was still burning hot—his heat clearly far from over.
Too exhausted to even make a sound, Haon simply searched with his eyes for something to eat.
After settling Haon’s weary body properly on the bed, Inho released his pheromones. He intended to rouse Haon again and exhaust him into sleep.
“Ah….”
The moment he parted the wet crease of Haon’s rear and brushed against the twitching entrance, a moan escaped.
He didn’t need to see it to know—the tender flesh was visibly swollen.
‘How much will he suffer when he wakes up again?’
Unaware of Inho’s concern, Haon opened his wet mouth wide, seeking the presence that would fill his hunger.
Seeing the look in Haon’s eyes—a silent plea for a kiss—Inho gave him both: a kiss and the weight of his body.
Like pouring water over a goldfish left stranded on dry earth, he held Haon again and again—until dawn, as many times as Haon desired.
