22 - Fly On The Wall

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"It's so noisy out there," Yoohan muttered blankly. Half his mind was on the voice coming out of the mansion, and half was on the kiss over his neck, the fingers stroking his thigh, and the throbbing hardness spreading heat inside him.

"You have time to focus on something else?" Jay pulled back, tilting his head and raised his brow as if his pride was hurt. "Seems like I haven't tried hard enough."

Yoohan gasped as his body was pulled, hard, until his surprised yelp was drowned with the loud smacking sound of hitting flesh. "Mmh—wait, that's not—oh!" his hands scrambled down to grab the wrists that gripped his hips hard, arching his back at the feeling of his prostate getting abused. "Uff—no, seriously, there's..."

"I know, Master," the pale eyes curled in a cold light, lips spewing sweet, soothing melody. Yoohan wondered how that voice could belong to someone this...

"But I'd like for you to focus on this..."

...brutal.

"Now!"

"Aaah!" Yoohan clawed on that sturdy, unbudging arm, back tensing and clenching in reflex of the harsh thrust. He bit his lips at the feel of Jay pulling out slowly, veiny girth and bulbous tip dragging along his wall, grazing at every nerve and sensitive site with the massive size to create unbearable itches.

Yoohan cursed—it was long, it felt endless...it got him writhed in the agony of what was to come. And it came with a punishing intention, plunging back inside him with one sharp, fast movement that hit every itching spot mercilessly.

He'd scream despite himself, loud and wanton and asking for more, and indeed; every thought in his head was getting decimated in the process.

Everything but the man providing him pleasure.

"Haah—oh, okay, just...slow...ah, slower..." Yoohan came to his senses again after some time, after he felt his inside growing dull and it just felt too much.

"Can't," that nice and shooting voice turned rough with heavy breaths, and there was a low growl behind the sneering laugh that got Yoohan's groin aflame with renewed lust. "Your mind like to take a walk if I go slow,"

With that rejection, Yoohan suddenly felt the world turn, and he was already laying on his stomach, hips high in the air. "Wa—" he couldn't even finish one word when his plea of going slower was not only being denied, but returned with faster, harder, rougher treatment.

"Hnnngh! Oh God—fuck!"

Yoohan knew he was physically inferior to Jay, but he had always been able to put this man in his control. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Ever since that incident with Lee Wooseok, the bodyguard had been all over him. He no longer cared about touching Yoohan or showing his obsessiveness toward his master in front of others. He'd ask for a kiss outside, he'd ask for a touch, he'd spread murderous intent at anyone getting even a step closer than necessary toward Yoohan. And in the confine of their little annex, he never sent Yoohan sleeping without a dose of dopamine release.

One thing that changed was that Jay no longer exercised his right of doing Yoohan in his sleep. It seemed like the bodyguard grew an aversion to seeing Yoohan feeling pleasure when he was unconscious. Even though all Yoohan felt while being drugged was the feeling of disgust, Jay probably imagined what it would be like if he wasn't there on time.

More than anyone else, he was the one who witnessed the state of Yoohan's lower body being exposed between Lee Wooseok's legs. He could see the bruising mark on Yoohan's hips, the reds on Yoohan's mound, and the blood on Yoohan's swollen lips. He didn't need a visual reenactment to imagine what had happened there, and what could happen after.

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