* * *
Haebom’s head, which had been resting on that firm chest, jerked up.
Wonho worried his slender neck might snap like that.
But Haebom, unaware of that concern, blinked wide-eyed, wondering if he’d heard correctly.
“I won’t do it until you accept me. I promise I won’t… So just… lend me your hand.”
Haebom wanted to ask what he meant by “lend your hand,” but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
He had a feeling that if he did, he’d hear something way too graphic.
As he met the desperate gaze in Wonho’s eyes, Haebom hesitated, then gave a small nod.
It was just his hand, after all—not anything else.
That should be fine.
“Ah! Why all of a sudden…?”
“You said you’d lend it.”
“I mean, but why…?”
When Wonho suddenly sat up straight, Haebom also shot up with him.
Technically, Haebom had been lying on top of Wonho rather than the bed itself, but in any case, he sat up.
When he agreed to “lend his hand,” he imagined it would be something like rubbing over Wonho’s clothes.
Haebom was a man too.
With his body fully pressed against Wonho’s earlier, he couldn’t help but feel just how swollen Wonho was.
Whether he wanted to or not, he knew exactly where this was headed.
Wonho didn’t answer Haebom’s question.
Instead, he gently pushed him to sit on the bed and stood in front of him, undoing the buckle of his pants and lowering the zipper.
Haebom just stared blankly, dazed.
It didn’t feel real—he was too stunned.
Wonho looked down at him, gulping.
His eyes were fixed on Haebom’s kiss-swollen lips, unable to look away.
He said he only wanted Haebom’s hand, but truthfully, if he could, he wanted to shove himself into those small lips.
He knew the thought was twisted, even sadistic—but he couldn’t help it.
He wanted to taste every hole Haebom had.
Swallowing back that desire, Wonho lowered his drawers and revealed his angry, fully erect member.
“Ah…!”
Haebom let out a strange noise as the thick, heavy object suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, snapping him out of his daze.
Wonho’s brows twitched at that reaction.
He knew his wasn’t exactly pretty like Haebom’s, but still—being stared at like that made something dark stir inside him.
A mischievous impulse to push it even closer.
But he reined it in, just barely.
“Yoon Haebom. Hand.”
Like asking a puppy for its paw, Wonho held out the hand that wasn’t holding his own member.
Haebom hesitated, inching forward slowly.
Wonho waited patiently, not forcing him.
Only after Haebom placed his hand in Wonho’s palm did Wonho gently guide it to his shaft.
“Hng…!”
“Ah… Yoon Haebom. Haebom, touch me.”
Haebom noticed how Wonho only used his name so sweetly in moments like this.
‘Why can’t he call me that normally too…’ he thought to himself, silently complaining as he loosened his clenched fist.
Fingers trembling, he opened his hand and touched the head.
It was his first time really touching it like this—his heart was pounding like crazy.
Carefully, Haebom fully opened his hand and grasped Wonho’s length.
It throbbed in his grasp, too thick to hold with one hand.
Like a living snake…
Eventually, Haebom had to use both hands.
It was hard to believe something like this had actually been inside him before.
He swallowed hard, feeling the heat and veins beneath his palms.
“Haa… Why’re you licking your lips? You want to taste it?”
“Wha—Shut up!”
“Taste it?” Haebom glared at him.
He’d never actually thought about wanting to taste it.
But he had wondered if he could take it in his mouth the way Wonho had done to him.
He’d never imagined doing that to another man in his life, but whenever he stood in front of Wonho, his thoughts always strayed that way.
He didn’t hate it—but it was still terribly awkward.
Wonho looked down at Haebom’s flushed, heat-warmed face with eyes full of thirst and satisfaction.
He started to move his hips, and just in case Haebom’s hands slipped, he covered them with his own.
Haebom shivered at the touch.
Who wouldn’t, when their palms were pressed against something burning hot and hard, and the backs of their hands were wrapped by calloused, masculine fingers?
“Haa… ngh… ah…”
It had always been him who moaned during moments like these—but this time, it was Wonho who let out a soft, suggestive moan.
Of course, it was nothing like the ones he made.
Fearing that he might hurt Haebom if he moved too roughly, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to suppress his desire.
If he were to give in to his urges, he would’ve pushed Haebom onto the bed right then, torn off that thin, almost see-through fabric, and spread open the soft space between his cheeks.
It had been quite some time since he’d tasted that softness.
He had promised himself he would wait until Haebom opened his heart completely.
But it wasn’t easy—not after having tasted that sweetness once.
No, several times. Holding back now was nothing short of torture.
Still, Wonho was determined to endure that torture if it meant having Haebom completely.
While his hand moved in steady strokes in place of Haebom’s entrance, Haebom pushed past his embarrassment and shame to release his guiding energy.
“Damn… Haebom, you’re driving me crazy…”
“Why aren’t you finishing already…?”
Suppressing shame didn’t mean it vanished.
Haebom could see everything—the flushed, swollen tip twitching in front of him, moving back and forth through the ring formed by his own hand. It was impossible not to feel humiliated.
The only way to end this was guiding.
He knew it would only turn Wonho on more, but there was no other choice.
The real problem wasn’t the sensation of guiding—no, it was Haebom himself, teary-eyed and pleading for him to hurry up and finish.
Wonho bit down so hard his teeth almost ground audibly.
Then he sped up his movements. If this dragged on any longer, he’d lose his mind.
He thought, ‘I just need to finish and get this over with.’
The urge to climax had risen to the tip of his throat—and finally, Wonho thrust himself deep into the space Haebom’s hands had formed and came, as if releasing deep inside Haebom himself.
“Ahh…!”
Haebom, unable to shut his eyes in time, witnessed everything—the thick, cloudy fluid shooting out from the tiny slit at the tip of Wonho’s member.
‘I should’ve closed my eyes,’ he thought, already filled with regret.
It wasn’t as if Haebom had never climaxed before—he had, just a few days ago, even with Wonho.
But he had never watched it happen like this, especially not someone else’s.
Seeing it so vividly, so explicitly, filled him with shame.
He wished he could crawl into a hole.
But Wonho, still hard even after climaxing, had no intention of letting Haebom crawl away.
Releasing Haebom’s hands, Wonho leaned over him.
The weight of his body sent the seated Haebom toppling backward.
Thankfully, the bed was right behind him, and Wonho caught the back of Haebom’s head with his hand, cushioning the fall.
Heavy as he was, he was careful not to hurt him.
“Haah…”
“…I want to wash up.”
* * *
