* * *

The bright light from the living room spilled into the room.

As Beom Sinje’s gaze drifted somewhere down on Doyoung, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

The nightmare was just beginning.

“What? Why are you staring like that?”

Doyoung’s face was filled with an unusual look of fluster, something rarely seen from him.

“This is the same person who smirked shamelessly even when his identity as the leader of the Antithesis was exposed.”

The sight struck Beom Sinje as both curious and strangely captivating.

How should he describe this feeling?

A mix of subtle excitement and an inexplicable fluttering in his chest.

“It’s because of the poison, right?”

Beom Sinje’s gaze lowered. Doyoung’s pants were slightly tented.

“What? Why are you asking that? Are you planning to help me or something?”

Even his voice, tinged with irritation, carried a faint tremble.

Perhaps that was why Beom Sinje’s sudden impulse emerged.

“I’ll help you.”

As Beom Sinje stepped closer, Doyoung instinctively retreated.

“…What?”

“You just asked, didn’t you? If I was going to help. I will.”

He spoke calmly, his expression unchanged.

But for Doyoung, it must have felt very different.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

When their confused gazes met, Beom Sinje felt his mouth go a little dry.

Yet, he didn’t hesitate to act.

With a gentle push to Doyoung’s shoulder, who was already near the bed, his slender frame easily toppled backward.

“Hey! Beom Sinje, what’s wrong with you?”

Doyoung looked up at him, his elbows propped awkwardly on the mattress.

Even in such a position, the sight of him tugged at something deep within Beom Sinje, though the man himself seemed oblivious to it.

“You told me to take care of it myself. I’ll do it.”

Beom Sinje forced his voice to remain steady, masking the turmoil within him.

“Should I undress you?”

“What? Are you serious right now? This… this is ridiculous…”

Doyoung exhaled sharply in disbelief, brushing his hair back.

Even his fingers, trembling slightly, didn’t escape Beom Sinje’s notice.

Realizing he had caused such agitation gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.

Of course, he couldn’t let that show.

“Are you really going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“…Unbelievable.”

Doyoung sighed again, pressing a hand to his forehead before looking back at Beom Sinje.

There wasn’t a trace of humor or deceit in his expression.

How had things escalated to this point?

“Am I dreaming or something? Solving the addiction means defeating the ‘boss mob,’ they said. Is this what they meant?”

The sheer absurdity of the situation made him question reality itself.

Could he still be dreaming?

Otherwise, Beom Sinje wouldn’t be doing this.

“Fine. Do as you please.”

Resigned, Doyoung fell into a state of half-defeated acceptance.

Whatever was happening to him below, it seemed to have swelled even more than before.

Fine. Let him do it.

‘Though I’m not sure this is the right way…’

No sooner had he made his decision than he started doubting it.

“What are you doing?”

Doyoung’s eyes widened.

Beom Sinje had knelt between his legs, one knee on the bed.

“What do you mean?”

Beom Sinje looked up at him with a face that suggested he didn’t understand the question.

“No, why are you sitting there?”

It looks like you’re about to…

“It’s just the angle. I can’t get it right otherwise.”

“What?”

The matter-of-fact response made Doyoung realize he’d misunderstood.

Beom Sinje had only intended to use his hands.

‘Argh!’

Doyoung’s face burned with shame.

It was the first time since becoming a villain that he felt so emotionally rattled.

“If this is uncomfortable, I can adjust.”

Beom Sinje shifted, kneeling directly over Doyoung’s thighs instead.

“What now…?”

This was no less awkward than before.

As Doyoung tried to sit up, Beom Sinje easily pushed him back down, his back now fully against the bed.

“Hey!”

“Just stay still, hyung. I’ll handle it.”

Handle what, exactly?

Doyoung opened his mouth to protest but froze when he noticed Beom Sinje’s hand moving toward the waistband of his pants.

“…Unbelievable.”

Was this guy always this bold and assertive?

Bold enough to reach into the pants of an older man without hesitation?

At this point, his pride started to kick in.

‘I can’t let this slide.’

He was the older one, with more life experience.

Instead of being flustered, he should have been the one in control.

“Fine. Do it your way.”

His gaze was sharp and challenging, almost provocative.

This time, Beom Sinje felt his heart pounding audibly in his chest.

A faint heat rose in his lower abdomen, but he brushed it aside, focusing instead on maintaining the tension in their locked eyes.

Without breaking the connection, he slipped his hand inside.

“Haah…”

As Beom Sinje’s large hand wrapped around him, Doyoung let out an involuntary moan.

Beom Sinje explored gently, his fingers tracing the shape before closing around it and lightly stroking the length.

Doyoung’s shoulders trembled, his thighs tensing.

It was absurd how his body reacted so easily, but at the same time, it felt maddeningly good.

Beom Sinje watched him closely, his usual stoic expression replaced by a faint heat in his gaze.

A soft rhythm began, the hand moving up and down with deliberate care.

The sound of friction filled the silence, making Doyoung hyper-aware of every sensation.

“Mm… ngh… hngh.”

He wished Beom Sinje would say something, anything, to break the tension, but the silence only amplified his awareness of the hand stroking him.

Unconsciously, he licked his lower lip.

It felt good, but something was missing, leaving him with an ache of dissatisfaction.

Without thinking, he placed his hand over Beom Sinje’s, guiding it to the spot he needed most.

Beom Sinje hesitated for a moment but resumed when Doyoung urged him on.

“Ahh… mmh…”

Though slightly clumsy, the touch was enough to stoke a growing fire within Doyoung.

His hips bucked, his body seeking more.

Beom Sinje adjusted, his movements quickening as he paid closer attention to Doyoung’s responses.

“There… the tip…”

Frustrated, Doyoung gave a breathless instruction.

Stroking the length alone wasn’t enough.

He needed something more direct.

Guiding Beom Sinje’s hand, he brought it to the sensitive head, already glistening with arousal.

Beom Sinje obliged without hesitation, pressing his thumb against the tip.

“Haaah…”

The jolt of pleasure was intense, making Doyoung’s hips twitch and his thighs tremble.

No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the moans kept escaping his lips.

Beom Sinje’s unwavering gaze took in everything—every tremor, every moan.

“Hyung…”

He whispered softly, his hand increasing its pace and intensity.

The friction and heat built steadily until Doyoung’s body finally gave in, releasing into Beom Sinje’s hand with a shuddering gasp.

“Haaah…”

It didn’t end with just one release but poured out several times.

A bitter and metallic smell instantly spread through the air.

However, what stimulated Beom Sinje more than anything was the sight of Doyoung, now half-turned toward him, panting heavily.

A man who was weaker than him, yet always insisted on leading, never losing his composed demeanor—now in complete disarray.

Beom Sinje slowly lowered his gaze.

He could see disheveled hair and lips parted slightly, exhaling ragged breaths.

As his eyes traveled down to the trembling shoulders and quivering waist, unable to hide their excitement, a realization struck him.

‘I… I want him.’

* * *