So he really meant it when he said he wanted to stay up all night.
Park Woo-jun scooped Lee Han-seo up effortlessly. Without so much as a glance toward the bedroom, he dropped onto the living room sofa and got straight to business.
“Han-seo, lift your arm for a second. Yeah, just like that.”
“Ugh—hey, slow down a little… Ah, that hurts!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
This was not going to end well. His eyes had already glazed over. His voice might have sounded gentle, but the way he tugged Han-seo’s T-shirt up was anything but—it was rough, forceful, clumsy with urgency. The automatic, half-hearted “sorry” that followed only made it more absurd.
That fabric sofa, usually just right when they curled up together, felt oppressively cramped today.
Perhaps irritated at being the only one shirtless, Han-seo reached out and tugged down the robe-like top Woo-jun was wearing. The thin patient gown provided in the isolation ward came undone with a single knot. It slipped off easily under Han-seo’s deft fingers—and with that, Woo-jun, to put it bluntly, just about lost it.
“Han-seo.”
“…Mmm.”
The eyes he had assumed would always stay gentle suddenly sharpened with a cold edge. A chill ran down Han-seo’s spine as he swallowed hard, a strange tension coiling in his gut. Compared to the time they had first tried imprinting—both drenched in sweat, frozen stiff and clueless—this was a drastic change.
Woo-jun’s gaze was unrelenting, as if he meant to devour Han-seo whole. The deep furrow of his brow made him look almost angry.
You should not be able to feel someone’s gaze—but Han-seo swore he could. His bare chest buzzed with static, as if electricity were skimming across his skin. Goosebumps rose. Every time Woo-jun’s eyes moved, every slow blink of those long lashes, it felt like the very particles in the air were stroking across his body. The anticipation had his thighs aching.
“What, Park Woo-jun… how long are you just going to stare…?”
The way he dragged out Woo-jun in a half-whine, half-tease, was equal parts sulky and nervous. Han-seo cast his eyes downward, feigning coyness, then gave the firm muscle of Woo-jun’s thigh a pointed nudge with his heel. Even through the thin fabric of the gown, he could feel every defined contour of muscle beneath.
Woo-jun caught the pale ankle hovering near his groin in one swift motion. He tugged it toward him, pulled off the sock, and kissed the soft top of Han-seo’s foot. Han-seo burst into a giggle, ticklish from the touch.
That clear, crystalline laughter scattered through the air like light refracted through glass.
I have to be careful… I cannot let him get hurt…
One wrong move. A slight misjudgment in strength. Breaking this delicate ankle would not even be difficult. That was the real danger—it was too easy.
Whenever he stood before Han-seo, Park Woo-jun could barely breathe. He examined every inch of him, scrutinized every motion, because he could not bear to leave even the tiniest invisible mark on him.
“Hey, that tickles.”
But when Han-seo laughed like that, so open and unguarded, it made Woo-jun’s ears ring and sent rationality fleeing from his grasp.
His pants, already halfway unzipped back near the entrance, slid off easily with a tug.
Reclined on the sofa, Han-seo lifted his hips to help, silently inviting him on. The way he moved—so eager, so trusting—made Woo-jun’s throat burn all over again.
He ran his hands up Han-seo’s toned calves and over his slender thighs. The laughter from earlier dissolved into breathy, flustered moans.
“Haah…!”
“Yeah, just staring? As if.”
I always listen to you, Han-seo.
Woo-jun whispered, letting his fingers glide up the smooth, sensitive skin of Han-seo’s inner thigh.
His fingertips brushed against the soft fabric of Han-seo’s briefs. Following the tight seams, he teasingly traced the outer edges. The light touch made Han-seo’s skin prickle with shivers.
As Han-seo’s breathing grew more ragged, Woo-jun’s hands grew bolder. He slipped a large hand into the briefs and wrapped his fingers around the half-erect cock, giving it a firm squeeze.
“……!!”
“Honestly… even this part of you is way too cute.”
There was no need to ask what “this part” meant. It was clear enough. Especially when Woo-jun kissed Han-seo’s cheek and tightened his grip, gently but deliberately.
It was the sound of pride collapsing into dust.
Han-seo wanted to protest that he was perfectly average, and Woo-jun’s hands were just absurdly big—but before he could get the words out, the firm upward stroke left him gasping, mouth open and panting.
Woo-jun formed a tight ring with his thumb and forefinger, dragging it up and down with practiced precision.
“Ng, hnnngh—”
Han-seo trembled beneath him, body twitching with every movement, helpless beneath the onslaught.
When Woo-jun rubbed tight circles over the now-damp, sensitive tip, a jolt ran through Han-seo’s core, his hips bucking involuntarily.
“Ah, hahh, Woo-jun… Jun-ah, ah…! Mmph, nn—!”
The guiding energy pulsed out of him without warning, without time to restrain it. Every high-pitched moan triggered another surge, bursting out like small explosions of power.
Woo-jun pressed his face into Han-seo’s neck and inhaled deeply.
He was losing it. No—he wanted to lose it.
The pleasure coursing through his own body was intense, sure—but more than that, it was Han-seo’s honest, unfiltered reactions that left him utterly addicted.
He licked along Han-seo’s neck, kissed his shoulder, and stroked him even more thoroughly.
Han-seo squirmed helplessly beneath him, groaning nonstop as his whole body twisted under the pressure.
There was no defense against the way Woo-jun massaged his balls, or the fingers that rubbed up and down the sensitive slit.
“Ugh, ah—hah, nnngh!”
With stuttering, fragmented moans slipping past his lips, Lee Han-seo came hard, spilling thick, concentrated cum.
Without a hint of hesitation, Park Woo-jun used his semen-slicked hand to casually loosen his waistband.
And the moment Han-seo laid eyes on Woo-jun’s cock—already rock-hard, heavy, and standing proud as if it had been waiting all this time—he had no choice but to admit it to himself.
…Yeah. At that size, calling someone else’s cute is fair.
Unaware of the inner commentary running through Han-seo’s head, Woo-jun looked at him with a dazed gaze and murmured his name under his breath, almost dreamlike.
“Han-seo… Lee Han-seo…”
He rubbed the slick, pre-cum-coated tip of his cock against Han-seo’s soft skin, then gave a few lazy thrusts, poking with the slightly softened shaft as if to tease. Han-seo’s eyes began to glaze over again.
By the time Woo-jun’s tongue breached the seam of his lips, parting them with an almost aggressive intent, Han-seo’s brain had turned to static.
That mouth—greedy, unrelenting, desperate to rob him of breath—kept trailing lower, and lower still.
From his chest, where his heart thundered so violently it could have burst, down over his belly, still smeared with the warm remnants of release… until finally, it reached his cock once again, already starting to rise anew.
“Wait—wait, hold on! Park Woo-jun, hey!”
Han-seo flailed instinctively, knees jerking, but Woo-jun pinned them down with firm hands and dove in without pause. He opened his mouth wide and took him in, leaving Han-seo gasping, throat tight, his whole body quaking.
The slick, twitching tip bumped against the roof of Woo-jun’s mouth before sliding deeper into the wet heat of his throat.
“Ugh… W-Woo-jun… Park Woo-jun…”
Each sound was half a sob.
Thick veins bulged along the underside of Han-seo’s cock, prominent and twitching. Woo-jun traced his tongue along each raised ridge, almost reverently, as though memorizing every contour.
A choked cry escaped from above—sharp and breathless, more scream than moan.
The bitter tang flooding his mouth, Woo-jun swallowed it down without a flinch, as if it were sweet cream.
His throat moved slowly, deliberately, working through each gulp. Meanwhile, his lips stayed sealed around the tender flesh, sucking firmly, drawing out every last drop with relentless precision.
“Huuh… ngh—You’re out of your goddamn mind, Park Woo-jun…”
Flustered and overstimulated to the point of tears, Han-seo turned his head to the side and roughly wiped at his eyes, clearly mortified.
But the sight only filled Woo-jun with warmth—strangely proud, completely elated. He pressed kiss after kiss to Han-seo’s face, pecking him at random.
Naturally, Han-seo shoved at him in exasperation, his palm slapping against Woo-jun’s shoulder with little restraint.
“Hey! You bastard—get off me! I said get off!”
“Yeah, sorry, sorry.”
The apology could not have been more half-hearted.
But then again, it was far too early for apologies. Especially when he fully intended to have Han-seo crying out for hours yet.
Even as Han-seo pushed and flailed, Woo-jun easily caught one arm and licked from the back of his hand all the way up to his wrist in one languid, deliberate sweep.
His gaze dropped to the trembling pale chest below him—nipples stiff and peaked, the skin twitching with every shiver. Just looking at him had Woo-jun’s mouth watering, jaw tight with the effort to hold back.
Han-seo was panting raggedly now, far too gone to manage his guiding energy.
Each time Woo-jun latched onto his skin and sucked hard, the sweet nectar of his guiding energy trickled out in maddeningly slow streams—just enough to tantalize, never enough to truly satisfy.
“Ah…!”
When Woo-jun shoved a finger into the long-neglected entrance, Han-seo’s eyes squeezed shut and his head snapped back, a sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.
Neither of them had the patience left for gentle prep tonight.
The blood was already rushing too fast, desire thrumming like a livewire.
Without pause, Woo-jun twisted the finger deep inside, stretching him roughly as he pressed and curled.
Han-seo whimpered, his body writhing, but he spread his legs wider, easing the tension in his hips and relaxing as much as he could, silently helping him in.
That earnest, unguarded gesture—his body trying so hard to accept him—struck something deep inside Woo-jun.
It did not match the image at all.
That face—so pure, so delicate—felt almost holy against the stark contrast of his own throbbing, aching erection. The mismatch was dizzying. He nearly choked on the urge to cry.
