Cha Han-gyeom slowly lifted his hips. He moved as slowly as possible, letting the thick shaft scrape against his inner walls so his body could gradually adjust to the sensation.
“Haa… ngh…”
Even though all he was doing was swallowing Seo Won’s cock and then letting it slip out again, moans escaped his lips before he could hold them back. When he lowered himself fully, taking it in all the way down to the base, it wasn’t just Han-gyeom who trembled—Seo Won bit his lip, struggling to suppress a moan of his own.
Compared to when Seo Won moved, Han-gyeom’s pace was incredibly slow. Yet from his position, he could feel clearly how his insides clenched and rippled around the shaft. He could tell exactly what kind of movement felt the best.
“Hnnngh!”
When the tip of the cock pressed directly against his prostate, he twisted his hips just a little. A sharp jolt shot all the way up to his head. His legs, barely holding him up, gave out, and he collapsed back down with his full weight. The pressure that dug deep inside him made the pleasure surge even more violently. His mouth opened on its own, and a moan laced with shallow, ragged breaths slipped out seductively.
As he continued to move in that unhurried rhythm, doing the same motion several times, pre-cum began to bead at the tip of his erect cock. It dripped onto Seo Won’s abdomen, pooling into a small puddle that trembled with every twitch of Seo Won’s body.
Han-gyeom, moving as he gazed down at the puddle, looked straight into Seo Won’s face, listening to the harsh sound of his breathing.
“Haa… ngh…”
He wasn’t the only one moaning. Though it was hidden beneath the sound of his rough breathing, Seo Won too let out occasional moans in response to Han-gyeom’s movements. Especially when Han-gyeom took him in all the way to the base—he could feel it clearly through the tightening of his inner walls—Seo Won jerked noticeably every time.
And for some reason, Han-gyeom found it amusing.
‘He likes it deep, huh?’
He wondered if Seo Won even realized it.
That every time he buried the cock deep inside, the amount of GP Seo Won absorbed increased dramatically.
Deep Guiding between two Imprinted individuals ultimately depended on how much pleasure both parties experienced. If the pleasure reached its peak, as it was now, then there would be no resisting it—the waves of Guiding would crash over them both without mercy.
Yet strangely, something was off about Seo Won’s expression.
He was definitely feeling it. Drunk on pleasure, lost in the ecstasy.
No doubt about it. And yet… a shadow of bitterness seemed to flicker across his face. Like something was bothering him.
‘Why that face?’
At first, Han-gyeom thought Seo Won was simply holding back a moan. The way he bit his lip, lowered his gaze, and breathed heavily—Han-gyeom assumed it was just embarrassment. A cute, shy desire not to show how overwhelmed he was.
But the more intense the pleasure grew, the more deeply saturated the Guiding became—so rich it surpassed satisfaction—the darker Seo Won’s expression became. Like the sunset outside the window, once crimson, fading to ash and then sinking into black.
Frustrated by Seo Won’s unreadable expression, Han-gyeom deliberately slammed his hips down hard.
Dropping from a fairly high position in one go, he impaled himself with such force that both he and Seo Won couldn’t stop themselves from crying out.
“Haaagh!”
“Kgh…”
The cock, thrust in fast and deep, throbbed violently inside Han-gyeom’s belly as if it were about to explode. He was so aroused that even the dull ache radiating from his lower abdomen felt like pleasure, and he nearly came right then and there. Thankfully, instead of releasing, only a clear fluid trickled down.
“Are you okay?”
Seo Won, realizing that Han-gyeom had just slammed down on him almost in a fit of anger, tried to sit up. He would have, if Han-gyeom hadn’t pushed him back down firmly by the chest.
“I’m fine… ngh… I told you… to stop worrying about every little thing…”
Separate from the ache in his belly, his entrance—now raw and hot from the rough friction—kept clenching involuntarily as if in protest.
Catching his breath and adjusting once more to the size inside him, Han-gyeom glared and demanded,
“Do you have a problem with me being on top?”
“…?”
Seo Won blinked, confused by the question. Han-gyeom slapped his chest with both hands as he snapped,
“I get that the Guiding is working! I can tell it’s going smoothly! But then why do you keep making that face?!”
The frustration he’d been holding in exploded all at once as he lashed out at Seo Won.
“Do you hate my Guiding?! Do you hate the sex?! No—do you just hate me?!”
“What kind of nonsense is that? I would never—”
“Then why?!”
Han-gyeom had thought that if he held all the control, if he were the one guiding Seo Won and pushing him down, it would feel good. And it did. Riding Seo Won and looking down at him from above, reading his reactions, adjusting his rhythm—it gave him a heady thrill.
But at the same time, it was suffocating.
No matter how much control he seized, no matter how godlike he felt towering above Seo Won, he couldn’t read what was going on inside the man’s head.
What was Seo Won feeling? Why was he acting like that? What was he thinking, what emotions were guiding his movements—Han-gyeom couldn’t grasp any of it.
The more he realized that, the more helpless and heavy the frustration became, piling up like hard stones inside his chest.
“We’re doing what you like, aren’t we?! You said you wanted to live! You brought me here for the Guiding because you wanted to live, didn’t you?!”
Once the dam broke, his emotions poured out unchecked.
He was sick of it—all the second-guessing, all the vague assumptions. He was done trying to read Seo Won’s mind and make sense of things that were never said out loud.
“I don’t even get why someone who says they want to live would resist the Guiding in the first place! But if you’ve decided to go through with it, if you really want to live, then at the very least you should—”
Han-gyeom’s voice, which had been rising in anger, suddenly quieted.
Something sharp was piercing his chest.
‘I want to live.’
Every time he said those words, it felt like something was carving into his heart.
‘Why?’
Han-gyeom had wanted to kill Seo Won from the very moment he learned that Seo Won carried Song Yeon-woo’s heart.
Because it felt like Seo Won had forcibly dragged Song Yeon-woo back—someone who had barely found release by turning to ash after a life of hardship.
When Han-gyeom discovered that Seo Won was the very client who had commissioned the heart extraction, all he could think about was how to make his death as agonizing as possible.
The terminally ill Guide, consumed by overwhelming vengeance and hatred, wanted nothing more than to erase his second Imprinter from existence.
And so, the death Han-gyeom devised for Seo Won was simple—yet cruel.
He would carve an end into him at the very height of euphoria, in the moment he tasted ultimate liberation, having broken free from the Black Vein’s path toward death.
There was no ending more brutal than one where, just as he grasped what he most desired, he was the one to shatter it himself. A despairing, self-inflicted Bad Ending.
That was what Han-gyeom had wished for.
And yet, every time he reminded Seo Won of what it was he truly wanted, it felt like a blade was stabbing straight through Han-gyeom’s chest.
“Han-gyeom?”
Seo Won called his name, lifting his upper body as he stared up at Han-gyeom, who had fallen silent, frozen in a daze of confusion. The hands that had been pressing Seo Won’s chest down—restraining him, controlling him—lost all strength.
Han-gyeom’s mind was more tangled now than it had ever been.
It was like he could hear the voices of everyone who’d ever wished for Seo Won’s death, whispering in secret.
—Let’s kill him.
—Seo Won should’ve died a year and a half ago.
—If it weren’t for him, Song Yeon-woo wouldn’t have ended up like that.
—See? You want to kill him too.
—We all want Seo Won dead.
—I wish that bastard would just die already.
—There’s not a single soul in this world who wants him to live.
Countless voices murmured, impossible to identify—whose they were, where they came from.
Among them, there was no mistaking it… one of them belonged to Cha Han-gyeom himself, dried out and hollow.
—Seo Won killed Yeon-woo hyung.
The sound of his own voice tearing through his mind made a hot surge of anger rise in his chest.
Every single voice wanted Seo Won dead. As if his death were some lottery jackpot they were all hoping to win, each voice chanted, over and over again.
And not one of them—not one—genuinely wished for Seo Won to live.
Han-gyeom didn’t understand why that hurt so much.
It felt like he’d been thrown naked into a barren wasteland, exposed and alone, with not even a thread to shield him.
Maybe it was because he was resonating with Seo Won, body to body, that his emotions were bleeding over more strongly.
No—it had to be that.
Because if it wasn’t… there was no way to explain what he was feeling.
That someone like him—who had lived every single day hoping for Seo Won’s death—could end up feeling such profound loneliness on his behalf.
Seo Won, unaware of what was going through Han-gyeom’s mind, suddenly looked stricken. He cupped Han-gyeom’s face in both hands, his expression twisted in unbearable pain.
“Han-gyeom… why are you crying?”
Thick tears welled in Han-gyeom’s eyes, not from physical sensation, but from something far deeper.
Seo Won’s fingers gently brushed beneath his eyes. The tears that had been gathering spilled over, trailing down along his fingertips and into the cradle of his palm.
Han-gyeom leaned into Seo Won’s warm hands, which held his cheeks, and slowly closed his eyes.
“…I don’t know either, you bastard.”
He whispered it hoarsely, almost like a sigh, then stretched his arms around Seo Won’s neck. There was no resistance between them—only a natural, effortless closeness as their bodies came together.
The cursed whispers that had plagued Han-gyeom’s mind faded at once, silenced by the shared rhythm of their two beating hearts.
