GBH 137

A sigh-like breath escaped from slightly parted lips.

“Haa-“

As the white breath dispersed, a square building came into view. The building, reflecting the night scenery and gleaming black, seemed endless. Se-kyung, who had been searching for the invisible top of the building buried in darkness, lowered his head and checked his phone once more. This was the place Song Yi-heon had called him to.

[HT Hotel Room 9104, 9 PM]

He was horrified when he was asked to go to a hotel the other day, but the text message Yi-heon sent after not being able to contact him all day was a hotel address. Se-kyung put the phone in his coat pocket and brushed his bangs. The half-swept hair felt awkward against his fingertips.

Passersby glanced at Se-kyung, who was standing unable to enter the hotel. Aside from being clean and tidy from washing up before leaving home, his carefully chosen black cashmere long coat and starkly white skin drew attention like a white dot in the dark city.

Although he should have gone inside, aware of the surrounding gazes, Se-kyung was lost in other thoughts. He persistently mulled over why Song Yi-heon had called him here.

Hotel. The implication or image given by the place plunged Se-kyung into contemplation. Being called to a hotel might not necessarily mean an invitation for sex. Most couples don’t always visit hotels just for sex. It could be to spend comfortable time alone in a cozy space, or to call for a place to talk without interruption.

“…That’s bullshit.” Se-kyung muttered to himself, realizing how nonsensical his thoughts were. A dejected groan escaped from the palm covering his mouth.

He remembered the words he had spoken last night, intoxicated while playing a drinking game suggested by Ji-soo. Although he hadn’t spoken directly, it was no different from begging for sex. And while completely drunk at that. Even he thought it was the worst, and he didn’t even want to imagine how pathetic he must have seemed to Song Yi-heon.

Even in the short time the elevator took to reach the floor, Se-kyung tried to convince himself that Song Yi-heon might not have called him to the hotel for sex, while also checking if his body smelled nice by lifting his coat collar.

Standing in front of Room 9104, Se-kyung took a deep breath. Realizing his breath was rough, he covered his mouth to calm his breathing. When the door suddenly opened, he quickly lowered his hand, pretending nothing had happened.

“You’re here.” Song Yi-heon, who seemed to have just showered, was wearing a white robe with a towel draped over his wet hair. 

The warm air from his freshly washed body mixed with the cold air clinging to Se-kyung’s coat. His bare skin was visible through the open collar of the robe. Se-kyung’s mind went blank, all the countless worries that had kept him from entering the hotel building evaporating in an instant.

As Se-kyung stood tall like a wooden statue, Song Yi-heon stepped aside to make way. “Are you performing a ritual? Come in.”

“Excuse me.”

“What’s there to excuse?”

Unlike the nervous Se-kyung, Song Yi-heon was his usual self. Though he appeared slightly prickly, he showed no hesitation in dealing with Se-kyung. 

Se-kyung entered while taking off his coat and looked around the room. The reception area was littered with traces of Song Yi-heon’s earlier presence. Se-kyung placed his coat next to Song Yi-heon’s long padded jacket, which was hung over a chair back. As he surveyed Song Yi-heon’s other discarded clothes, bag, and half-drunk water bottle, Se-kyung suddenly felt the room was stuffy and took off the cardigan he was wearing over his shirt.

Below the floor-to-ceiling windows, a city view with the Han River cutting across unfolded. The night scenery of the city viewed from this dizzying height sparkled beautifully, with all the dirt and dryness invisible. Walking along the short corridor overlooking the clusters of lights below the window led to the bedroom.

It’s hot. As he entered the bedroom, Se-kyung unbuttoned his shirt, unable to bear the heat. His cheeks flushed with warmth in just a short while. Why had the temperature been set so high when neither of them was particularly sensitive to cold? 

Se-kyung’s question found its answer the moment he spotted the bed.

A spacious bed with gel and condoms placed on it. Se-kyung’s hand, which had been fanning his shirt collar, froze.

It was natural for Se-kyung, still clothed, to be panting from the heat. The room temperature Song Yi-heon had set was intended for rolling around naked and using those gels and condoms.

Song Yi-heon passed by the frozen Se-kyung and sat on the edge of the bed. Wearing only a robe, Song Yi-heon spread his legs and leaned back. As his waist curved, making his abdomen appear concave, the loose robe parted. The pink nipples he had seen before were almost visible.

“Put it in.”

Se-kyung’s eyebrows raised as if he had heard something unbelievable. However, his gaze remained fixed between the spread thighs. Although still covered by the robe, the area between the thighs was provocatively outlined by the fabric falling along the legs.

Song Yi-heon jerked his chin towards the space between his spread legs and repeated his demand. “I said, fuck me.”

“Yi-heon.” Se-kyung, coming to his senses belatedly, called out in apparent difficulty, and only then noticed that Song Yi-heon was just as nervous as he was. 

The awkwardly strained eyes and overly bitten, swollen lips were evidence of that.

“I want to do it with you too. But I can’t fuck you. So you do it.” Song Yi-heon wanted to be mood-setting, or at least gentle, but being nervous, his words came out harsh. 

He worried belatedly that Se-kyung might be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t take back what he’d said, and was too embarrassed to rephrase it nicely, so he stubbornly pushed forward.

No matter how old his soul might be, he had lived as a heterosexual. It took great resolve to tell a younger man to fuck him while sober. However, it wasn’t enough resolve to make Se-kyung feel hurt, nor was it important enough to make Se-kyung think he was the only one in love.

The most important thing to Song Yi-heon was Choi Se-kyung. Se-kyung was the only one he would allow to put his cock in his ass.

“You think I don’t like you? I’m dating you prepared to go to hell. No matter how much you like me, you’re far from catching up to me.”

It would have been easier if he’d had a drink, but fearing Se-kyung might dismiss it as drunken talk, Song Yi-heon forced himself to speak sober. His face burned with embarrassment. On the other hand, Se-kyung, receiving this passionate confession, felt both joy and bewilderment. The fixed ideas instilled by Choi Myung-hyun, the morality injected as something humans should inherently possess, prevented Se-kyung from feeling purely happy.

He wanted to fuck him. He wanted to tear off that flimsy robe and violate that white naked body recklessly. He wanted to press down on his upper body, forcibly spread his legs, suck on that hole, and fuck that place, wet and drenched with saliva, until it dried up. He wanted to pin down Song Yi-heon as he twisted his waist and panted, fucking him until he couldn’t breathe.

The desire wouldn’t have been out of place even if called rape. Realizing this fact, Se-kyung covered his eyes with his palm. A bitter laugh escaped involuntarily.

“Ha.”

He’s gone mad. He wants to fuck him. It hadn’t even been a year since he resolved to treat him preciously, but in his imagination, the naked Song Yi-heon was roughly handled. And Se-kyung couldn’t deny the excitement that made his body tremble when he acknowledged these violent urges.

It was a taste he hadn’t known before. His violent and cruel nature remained unchanged in his sexual desires. Discovering this desire that had been suppressed by the morality instilled by Choi Myung-hyun, Se-kyung was perplexed.

He wasn’t sure what to do, but one thing was certain, he mustn’t let his preferences be known. Just as Choi Myung-hyun had treated it as something to be denied, Song Yi-heon would likely be averse to it as well. As this thought occurred to him, Se-kyung lowered the hand covering his eyes.

As if he had never been flustered, Se-kyung wore his usual gentle smile when he lowered his palm. He knelt in front of Song Yi-heon and closed Song Yi-heon’s spread knees. Holding them to prevent them from spreading again, he looked up.

“Yi-heon.” The gentle smile was as pure as ascetic white. Se-kyung used this seemingly good smile to hide his dirty lust. “What I said that night… I meant I wanted to become special. It’s okay if we don’t do it. I’m sorry for pushing too hard.”

“You are special.” Song Yi-heon grabbed Se-kyung’s nape and pressed their lips together. 

His tongue swept the inside of Se-kyung’s mouth before withdrawing. His pale-colored eyes met Se-kyung’s seriously.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone but you. I’m doing this because it’s you.”

“…”

“If you’re not special, who is?”

He pressed on Se-kyung’s nape, not allowing him to avert his eyes. Even though it was mortifying, he had to make it clear. That Choi Se-kyung was his irreplaceable, unique existence.