Chapter 30

Even though he knew he could just call a cab and head home, leaving proved unexpectedly difficult. For starters, his phone had vanished. And whenever he attempted to leave, Jio would materialize as if tipped off by radar and feed him something. Sometimes it was food or dessert, and sometimes…

“Mmph… gasp… fu… ck.”

Gyuhan pounded Jio’s thighs, but the man didn’t budge an inch. He had been asleep on the sofa with his mouth slightly open when his jaws were forced wide like a hooked fish, followed by a heavy weight sliding deep into his mouth. It all happened in an instant. Flustered by what had entered him, he almost bit down, but the second his teeth grazed flesh, his own member was taken into Jio’s mouth, making his jaw lose all power.

By the time he came to his senses, his back was pinned to the sofa cushions, trapped entirely beneath Jio’s body in an inverted position.

Realizing the only way out of this situation was to make Jio finish, Gyuhan strained with all his might.

“Hah, fuck. You’re fucking terrible at this.”

Pulling Gyuhan’s cock from his mouth, Jio roughly stroked him with his hand while spitting profanity. His voice was hoarse—evidently from having shoved his length down Gyuhan’s throat until it scraped his esophagus. Thinking I’m definitely worse at this, Gyuhan worked his tongue even harder. With no room to maneuver, his efforts amounted to little more than shallow licking, prompting Jio to let out a scoffing, mocking chuckle.

His pride was wounded.

This was hardly the time to care about pride… but regardless, Gyuhan bobbed his head and tried his best. That was when his hand reached down to touch beneath Jio’s shaft.

The thought of touching another guy’s junk with my bare hands didn’t even cross his mind. Instead, his head was too blank to figure out how to stroke it, yet he gripped what he had grabbed and began rubbing. They used to call each other—lifelong balls-buddies—and now here he was, literally fondling the man’s balls…

When a low, guttural groan finally tore from Jio’s lips, Gyuhan felt a distinct surge of triumph. Triumph quickly bled into raw arousal. Jio clamped his mouth back around Gyuhan’s member, filling the living room with wet, obscene sounds. Sunlight blazed brightly through the gaps in the blackout curtains, yet not a single thought of the office crossed either of their minds.

“Mm, gasp, ngh… cough.”

Gyuhan began to choke. Naturally, he was the one nearing his climax first. Gyuhan tapped desperately on Jio’s thigh, but no matter how frantically he tapped out, Jio refused to let go. Instead, Jio began pumping his hips into Gyuhan’s slackening mouth.

Caught between an overwhelming orgasm and suffocation, Gyuhan’s hands went limp, dropping to the sofa. Twitching helplessly, forgetting where his cock even was, he spilled his release into Jio’s mouth.

Jio thrust deeper into Gyuhan’s limp throat, unintentionally forcing his throat open to accommodate him. But instead of finishing inside his mouth, Jio pulled back and sat upright on Gyuhan’s chest, rapidly stroking his slick, glistening shaft. Moments later, Jio’s semen sprayed across Gyuhan’s lower abdomen and pubic hair.

“Haah.”

Swallowing what he had been holding in his mouth, Jio gave a slight grimace. But it wasn’t because of the taste.

“It’s gotten a bit watery, hasn’t it?”

Draped limply with his arms out, panting for air, Gyuhan barely managed a response. “…You fucking bastard. You’ve been draining me dry. If that were blood, I’d be dead ten times over.”

“My dream is to make you die from sexual exhaustion.”

“…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold your funeral and follow you right after.”

Rising to his feet, Jio gave Gyuhan’s cheek a couple of light pats. Tap, tap.

With his mouth hanging agape just like his legs, Gyuhan lacked even the strength to wipe the drool drenching his lips. Instead, Jio reached out and pulled a wet wipe from the dispenser. As Jio wiped his lips, Gyuhan stared at the folding table holding the wet wipes.

Ever since they had eaten seolleongtang that day, the table had never once been folded away. Not only that, but at some point, wet wipes and a trash can had taken up permanent residence right beside it.

Gyuhan and Jio’s gazes locked. While Gyuhan was scanning the wipes and the trash bin, Jio had been looking at no one but him.

A heavy sigh threatened to escape.

Instead of sighing, Gyuhan silently looked at Jio before asking, “I’m thirsty.”

Jio got up without a word.

Watching his receding back, Gyuhan swallowed another sigh.

Cut ties with me, Cha Gyuhan.

He hadn’t overheard it on purpose. Nor had he pretended to sleep out of a desire to eavesdrop. He had simply lacked the energy to lift a single finger. Then, he had felt Jio’s gaze, and the tactile weight of that gaze stroking his face had left his body so numb he couldn’t move.

Gyuhan rubbed his chest.

The times he had suffered indigestion in his life could be counted on one hand. Once or twice, maybe? Now, Gyuhan felt that suffocating blockage in his chest for the first time in years. His chest was tight to the point of aching. Just when he thought it had subsided, an invisible blade of pain seemed to stab from his solar plexus straight through to his back.

Cut ties? You want to break off our friendship? You want to part ways?

Yet what suffocated Gyuhan wasn’t merely the long years they had known each other—it wasn’t just a matter of thinking, Fine, fuck. Why cling to someone who doesn’t want you? Why hold on?

There was no way he wouldn’t feel miserable. His physical condition was terrible, his fatigue overwhelming. And in the middle of all that, Jio wanted to sever ties. His first thought had been immediate—Then you should be the one to dump me. After a few days, it morphed into another thought. Why didn’t he just block me and walk away on his own? But then he remembered the sight of Jio boldly handing him his letter of resignation, and his spirits plummeted. To hand over a resignation so brazenly, only to whisper a plea to end their friendship into the ear of a sleeping man…

Gyuhan realized that Jio no longer treated him like a friend, and the undeniable reality that Jio didn’t even consider him a friend sank into his very bones.

It tasted bitter and sorrowful. He didn’t want this. He wanted to ignore the resignation letter, ignore Jio’s plea to leave. Even if they had started having sex, couldn’t they just go on as they had before? If Jio vanished from his life, it would be as if his entire life were being ripped away at the roots.

What the fuck is this? I wish this was just a muscle cramp from being fucked too hard.

Watching Jio return with a glass of water, Gyuhan felt a sharp pang in his upper abdomen. He couldn’t even tell if it was in his chest or stomach. Perhaps it was an itch that had originated deep within his chest.

Glaring at Jio, Gyuhan raised his palms and smacked his own body to hide his bitter sigh and keep from losing his mind to that phantom itch.

Smack! Smack!

“Ah, shit. What the hell?!”

Jio looked utterly bewildered by Gyuhan suddenly slapping his own torso with resounding claps. But realizing Gyuhan looked no different from an old man slapping his chest under the cold waterfall plunge at a public bathhouse, the light in Jio’s eyes dimmed once again.

“What? You want to go to a sauna or something?”

“Of course I do. Look at the state of me. Ugh, fuck. I’m a sachinnom—a sauna-obsessed lunatic.”

He felt sticky and sore all over. Emptying the glass Jio handed him, Gyuhan stole a glance at him. Sachinnom… Jio was probably thinking of a (sarang-e michin nom)—a man crazy in love—and if that word had slipped out, Jio would have made sure his backside was drilled so hard you couldn’t tell his ass from his lips. Talk about a close call.

Jio wore a chillingly cold smile as he said, “Then go.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after draining the water, Gyuhan asked, “For real?”

“…”

Instead of answering, Jio simply let his painted smile fade away.

Saying shit you don’t even mean, you bastard.

It seemed Gyuhan needed to revise his lifelong assessment of his friend, whom he had always believed expressed his feelings without filter and never held grudges.

While Jio was showering, Gyuhan trudged lazily into the study.

He had already searched the other rooms. The study was the only place left. Scratching his head, Gyuhan pulled on books one by one instead of searching the desk drawers. Drawers were too obvious. After checking a few, he felt one that seemed hollow yet carried a strange heft.

“Found it.”

Murmuring, Gyuhan pulled the book out and opened the cover. Inside the hollowed-out cavity lay his phone and car keys.

There was no way Jio genuinely believed this was enough to keep them hidden. He simply hadn’t intended to hide them thoroughly from the start. Perhaps deep down, there was an underlying resignation—a feeling that even if Gyuhan found them, so be it.

Gyuhan looked down silently at his phone. In the brotherhood of cinematic mobsters he had always revered, there were countless instances of inevitable partings, pretending to be a traitor for the other’s sake, hurting someone with lies. Yet in the end, they always sacrificed themselves out of genuine love and devotion.

If that was the case…

Were those mobster hyung-nims actually trying to date each other?

What in the world had he spent his entire life admiring?

Gyuhan powered on the phone. Fortunately, the screen lit up, though the battery was running low.

Given his vast social network, Gyuhan’s phone was flooded with unread notifications. Among them, the ones that stood out were from his matchmaking agency manager—who faithfully reached out with the mindset that a paying client deserved proper service—and his younger brother, Cha Gyuwon, who rarely initiated contact first.

Scrolling past the matchmaking manager’s weeping emojis asking why on earth he wasn’t answering calls, Gyuhan first reached out to his brother.

❮Gyuwon-ie⠇

—Hyung, where are you?

Gong Jio’s place

—You’ve been there the whole time?

Yep

—Why? What are you doing there?

Gyuhan scratched his head for a second before typing out his reply.

❮Gyuwon-ie⠇

Being held hostage

—Seriously? Want me to come pick you up?

Nah, I’m good right now

Since he could walk out whenever he pleased and Jio couldn’t avoid him here, it was genuinely the ideal setup to resolve everything that had accumulated between them. Granted, his body was taking a bit—no, a massive—beating, but it was infinitely better than spending months unable to meet while agonizing over it. The problem was how to actually resolve things… A reply arrived from his brother, pulling his focus back.

❮Gyuwon-ie⠇

—Got it, then I’ll tell Father you’re hanging out with Jio-hyung~

“Hanging out,” he says. Cute kid.

Chuckling softly, Gyuhan sent a thumbs-up emoji, powered off the phone, and placed it back where he found it.

Stepping back into the living room, Gyuhan’s gait was slightly better than before, but because Jio seized every opportunity to suck and gnaw on him, his member was chafed raw, making him limp awkwardly. Flopping onto the sofa, he groaned and lamented, “Aagh, dammit. Even just lying down feels exhausting in a completely different way. I thought I’d be stiff from not working out, but my whole body just aches to the bone.”

This must be why people say excessive lust rots your bones. Wait a second. Come to think of it, his own bones weren’t the ones he should be worrying about. Wasn’t Gong Jio the one who had earned the bizarre moniker of a Gay Sex Machine? He should probably make sure to add a bone density scan to Jio’s health checkup next year.

While Gyuhan’s mind wandered through random thoughts, the bathroom door opened and Jio emerged. Ever since he had fucked Gyuhan to his heart’s content, Jio had been striding through the house at a frantic pace as if chasing after something, but today his steps were noticeably slower. Was he finally feeling relieved?

If Gyuhan had wanted to leave, he would have left long ago. It wasn’t difficult. Yet he was still here. Why had Jio been so anxious that he walked with such frantic urgency? And why did he feel relief even while knowing Gyuhan could walk away anytime he pleased?

Gyuhan planted his bare foot right onto Jio’s abdomen as the other man sat down near the sofa. Yielding slightly under the push, Jio froze stiff.

“Jio-ya. Don’t you feel like we didn’t really know that much about each other?”

Gritting his teeth hard enough for his jawline to sharpen, Jio lunged over Gyuhan and snarled, “You’re the only one who didn’t know.”

Crossing his arms, Gyuhan peeled off his T-shirt. Jio hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching for Gyuhan’s chest. The nipples were swollen and inflamed. Turning them into erogenous zones still seemed like a distant goal, but it didn’t feel entirely impossible either—given enough time and opportunity. And Jio knew full well that whatever time it took to make Gyuhan’s nipples sensitive wouldn’t feel like waiting at all. Not in the slightest.

What woke Cha Gyuhan was the sound of presence in the room. His head was too foggy to catch the details of the conversation, but the tone of the voice was undeniably grave.

“…Leaving now.”

Gyuhan sucked in a sharp breath. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have drooled. Waking up sprawled face-down, it appeared he had fallen asleep in the exact position they had finished in.

To think the day would come when I’d get used to falling asleep with another man’s dick inside me. So much for getting married. Fuck.

Muttering internally, Gyuhan gently squeezed his glutes. Fortunately, they held together—it seemed Gong Jio had exercised at least a shred of restraint.

When they first started doing it, Gyuhan had genuinely wondered if semen flowed through Jio’s veins instead of blood. Just when it felt like it was finally over, Jio would mount him again; just when it seemed truly finished, Jio would feed him and drill into him once more. Groping him while brushing teeth, thrusting into him while washing him.

A restaurant… no, not that. Re… Re-what was it again? Whatever. He sure had a colorful re-whatever.

Unable to remember the word repertoire, Gyuhan lifted his gaze.

Seeing the pale light—as pale as Gong Jio’s skin—creeping through the sliver of open curtain, it seemed to be the crack of dawn.

He’s taking his sunglasses before leaving, right? Of course he would. He’s bound to have a spare pair in his car anyway. Gyuhan decided not to make it obvious he was awake to avoid causing unnecessary hassle.

“Twenty minutes—no, at this hour, I’ll arrive in ten minutes.”

A dull thud sounded as Jio tossed his phone, having ended the call. He seemed to be dressing. The crisp rustle of a dress shirt and the suggestive friction of silk necktie fabric drifted over. Gyuhan felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He had seen countless men changing into suits, and he spent most of the year in suits himself, yet the fact that such mundane sounds made him flinch…

I’ve fallen. Totally corrupted.

Gyuhan squeezed his eyes shut in self-loathing.

Coincidentally, his surrender came at the perfect moment. He felt the mattress beside him dip. Surprisingly, Jio never spent much money on mattresses. Compared to hiring professional cleaning services to disinfect the entire apartment or replacing tableware, the items Jio bought for himself were generally cheap. To be frank, even the easygoing Gyuhan was starting to feel a dull ache in his back. But the reason he couldn’t complain was because he understood why Jio didn’t care about mattresses, why he was excessively indifferent to such comforts.

“Ramyeon.”

Hm?

At the end of his contemplation on mattresses, Gyuhan doubted his own ears at that utterly random word.

“…You wouldn’t even remember.”

No, remember what?!

“Fuck… what’s so great about ramyeon anyway.”

That’s what I’m saying! What the hell about ramyeon?!

Yet Jio merely muttered these incomprehensible words to himself before walking out.

At the sound of the front door lock engaging, Gyuhan bolted upright. Ignoring the sharp twinge in his tailbone and the heavy throb in his lower back, he sat in a daze, scratching his head vigorously. Then, in the empty house with no one to answer, he shouted to the void, “What about ramyeon, you bastard?!”

In the end, Gyuhan cooked and ate ramyeon at the crack of dawn. It tasted mediocre. It wasn’t that he disliked ramyeon, but strangely, whenever he cooked it himself, it never tasted the way he imagined, leaving him disappointed. When he asked himself what that imaginary taste was supposed to be, he couldn’t explain it either, leaving him staring blankly at the serving suggestion photo on the packet. Even if he said it was supposed to taste the way it looked, almost no one understood what he meant.

Accustomed to this disappointment, Gyuhan slouched on the sofa with a pout. For someone disappointed, he had eaten quite a hefty portion, but he couldn’t help it. Having exerted himself like a madman before passing out, he had been famished.

Ramyeon. Did Gong Jio like ramyeon? Wasn’t it the exact opposite? Did he like it in the past? There was no way to know. Jio never spoke about the past. As though he had forgotten all those years… as if they had all rotted away and been cast into the ocean.

Sleepiness crept back in.

Blinking languid eyelids swollen with satiety, Gyuhan turned his head. Then, suddenly getting up, he yanked open all the living room curtains.

“Acting like a child of darkness.”

Recalling the words his school teachers used to mutter while clicking their tongues whenever Gyuhan and his classmates blocked all the windows, turned off the lights, and slept through every break in the afternoon, Gyuhan grimaced.

The outside was blindingly bright. Saying his eyes were merely adjusting from the dark room didn’t do it justice.

Did he really grab his sunglasses? What if there aren’t spares in his car? Because he had kept his eyes closed and faked sleep, he hadn’t seen, but he didn’t recall hearing the click of hard sunglasses frames clattering together either.

Frowning at the outside view, Gyuhan clicked his tongue and headed for the dressing room.

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