Swallow Hunting

Lee Kangjoo didn’t tease Haejun out of the gate. He came at him hard from the start, rough and relentless, hauling Haejun’s cock up and down as if his only goal was to wring every last bit of strength out of him.

It felt like his dick was being ripped clean off in that brutal grip. Tears welled thickly in Haejun’s eyes from the sheer physical pain.

He couldn’t even get out a word about it hurting. Lee Kangjoo had his lips covered. Moans leaked through the seam of their mouths, but every plea to go easy was swallowed before it could escape.

Their tongues tangled so deeply his cheeks hollowed. Lee Kangjoo devoured Haejun’s breath, his senses, his mind. Haejun couldn’t even open his eyes. Tears streamed down his face. Nothing was even inside him yet, but his head was already going hazy all the same.

When Lee Kangjoo dug his thumb into the slit of the head, a sharp tremor shot through Haejun’s belly and made his groin shudder uncontrollably. His rounded ass rubbed against the other man’s lower body like a cat in heat.

“Fuck...”

Lee Kangjoo bit out the curse and yanked Haejun’s pants down lower. The blanket was tossed to the floor, exposing the pale mound of flesh beneath. After dragging down his own pants too, he grabbed Haejun’s plump ass cheeks, pressed tightly together, and spread them apart.

“...Ah!”

Haejun jolted. A thick shaft wedged its way between his soft thighs. The hard flesh driving upward shoved against his shriveled balls and brushed Haejun’s cock too.

“W-why...?”

Of course he’d assumed Lee Kangjoo was going to fuck him. Maybe he’d even been secretly looking forward to it. He wanted him to drive deep inside, ruin him completely even if it hurt. To keep pushing no matter how much he cried.

“Until your ankle heals, hn...”

Lee Kangjoo seized Haejun’s hips. Burying his face in the back of his neck, breathing him in, biting down lightly with his teeth, he started thrusting against him. At first he moved carefully, probably worried about putting strain on Haejun’s leg, but every so often a sudden burst of force came through.

Haejun’s body was shoved forward, then dragged back by Lee Kangjoo’s hold, over and over. Slick fluid dripping from his own cock made the space between Lee Kangjoo’s passing thighs wet and sticky. The veined shaft moved like a hand, sweeping up beneath Haejun’s cock and jerking it with every pass.

“Hah... ngh, ah...!”

The big, bead-like head pressed hard into the sensitive skin beneath his balls. Haejun trembled violently. Cum burst out before he could even think to stop it. It shot farther than usual, long pent-up as it was. Once, twice, and then the last spurt lacked the strength to go far, white fluid dribbling down along the shaft.

Lee Kangjoo wrapped him up fiercely as Haejun shook all over. The cracked ankle was no longer something either of them bothered worrying about. As if the heat raging inside him had become too much, he started slamming harder against him. The thick, veined cock beat against Haejun’s softening length hanging below, while the rough stubble at his groin reddened Haejun’s pale ass.

Lee Kangjoo’s grip dragged both of Haejun’s thighs together and clamped them tight, so he could squeeze the shaft trapped between them harder. Still twitching from the aftershocks of his orgasm, Haejun used all his strength to press his thighs shut. As if that still wasn’t enough, he reached down and wrapped his hand around the head that wasn’t his. It was burning hot, so hot it almost felt like it would scorch his palm.

A short, broken moan sounded by his ear. The moment ripe warmth spread into his hand, fluid splattered out. Thick, heavy, a lot of it—enough that it would have dripped straight onto the sheets if he hadn’t cupped it.

Without loosening his thighs, Haejun kept stroking the pulsing cock in his hand all the way through.

Harsh breathing filled the room. Lee Kangjoo finally let go of Haejun’s thighs, but he still didn’t release his body. He held his limp, weakened waist and kissed the back of his neck and the rim of his ear in wet little pecks. His hand slid over Haejun’s belly smeared with cum, kneaded his softened cock and balls, then pressed his cheek against Haejun’s ear and rubbed against him.

More than the fact that Lee Kangjoo had come in his hand, it was the tenderness afterward—something that wouldn’t be out of place being called aftercare—that made Haejun happier than he could put into words.

The nameless anxiety that had been clinging to him vanished cleanly, and drowsiness came crashing down in its place. The bright clarity in his eyes faded until they were only half-open once it was over.

“I’m sleepy now...”

Without a word, Lee Kangjoo stretched out an arm. Haejun wriggled closer and burrowed into his embrace. He drew in a deep breath and wedged himself between Lee Kangjoo’s chest and arm.

This was a safe zone.

Haejun curled up like a baby. Before even ten ticks of the second hand could pass, he was asleep.

* * *

By afternoon, sunlight like yellow forsythia filtered through the living room window and settled across the floor. It was Haejun’s favorite moment of the day. At times like that, he would finally put down the phone he’d been clinging to endlessly and lie sprawled in the warm patch of light. He opened the notebook Yohan had brought him and turned on some music.

Time flowed like water whenever he doodled across the page with his pen. After filling one whole sheet with random sketches, Haejun glanced toward the row of flowerpots. He added the small, plump leaves to the notebook too.

“...”

He bit the end of the pen and sank into thought for a moment.

Lately, sleeping in the same bed as Lee Kangjoo had given him more chances to watch his face up close. Lee Kangjoo usually slept lightly and woke at the slightest movement, but deep in the late hours of dawn he occasionally fell into a real sleep.

Because he slept so quietly—without even the sound of breathing—Haejun sometimes startled himself and carefully held a finger beneath his nose. Only after feeling the faint warm breath brushing his skin would he let out a silent sigh of relief.

At times like that, Haejun buried the side of his head into the pillow and stared at Lee Kangjoo. No matter how many hundreds of times he looked, it always felt new, fascinating, almost unreal. He couldn’t help wondering what kind of absurdly perfect genes someone had to inherit to end up that beautiful.

Sometimes he even let himself drift into darker little fantasies about what Lee Kangjoo would look like when he got older. Even with gray hair, even with wrinkles settling in, he’d only grow more dignified. The word ugly would never apply to him, not even as a joke.

Back at the officetel, all Haejun had been able to do was trace imaginary lines in the air from the distance between the sofa and the bed. But now he could gaze at Lee Kangjoo from close enough for their breaths to touch.

He had no idea when he might be thrown out, but at least while he stayed in this house, Haejun wanted to carve every detail of Lee Kangjoo into memory.

The smooth bridge of his nose and clean jawline. The lips that stole Haejun’s soul every time they kissed. The eyes closed so neatly like crescent moons. His tidy brows, the loose strands of hair fallen over his forehead.

Even with his eyes shut, Haejun could picture that face clearly.

He moved the pen awkwardly. He’d never learned anything about basics or composition, so the proportions came out crooked and messy. The more he tried to fix it by adding lines, the farther the drawing drifted from the real thing.

“...This isn’t it.”

In the end, it was nothing. A miserable failure at bringing the Lee Kangjoo in his mind to life. Irritated, he tore the paper out and crumpled it up.

There was no way he should dare draw Lee Kangjoo with skills this shitty.

Still, Haejun didn’t give up. He pulled up a photo of Lee Kangjoo on his phone. Copying from a reference felt manageable.

The face that had been so hard to summon from vague imagination came much more easily once he worked from the photo. By the time the drawing was halfway done, his phone buzzed against the floor.

It was Lee Kangjoo.

Haejun immediately hit the call button. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

“Director!”

“Have you eaten lunch?”

Haejun checked the clock sitting in the living room. It was one he’d dug out from the pile of his belongings. In a room full of straight lines and sharp edges, the round clock looked strangely out of place.

“Yes. I ate with the side dishes Mrs. Jeong made yesterday. Did you eat too, Director?”

“I had something simple. ...I was thinking of asking Cha Haejun a small favor.”

The back of Haejun’s neck straightened at once. It was the first favor Lee Kangjoo had ever asked of him. Whatever it was, he was ready to do all of it.

“Manager Yang will stop by soon. There should be documents in the second drawer of the study. Just hand them to him.”

“...Seokho hyung?”

The task was so simple it made all the resolve he’d built feel ridiculous. Haejun let out a soft puff of disappointment. He’d been ready to promise even if Lee Kangjoo had asked him to pluck stars out of the sky.

“...Hyung?”

But Lee Kangjoo seemed to catch on a strange part of that.

Ever since the flowerpot shopping trip, Haejun had started feeling oddly close to Yang Seokho. The rough face was just because of the scar; the man himself wasn’t bad. He smiled easily, and more importantly, he knew a lot about Lee Kangjoo. Press him [N O V E L I G H T] once and stories about Kangjoo popped out like a vending machine.

“Yes!”

Haejun answered brightly.

He should have noticed the shift in the lowered voice, but he was too happy that Lee Kangjoo had called to pay attention.

“You call Manager Yang hyung?”

“Ah, it felt awkward figuring out what to call him. Hyung... is comfortable.”

“And I’m Director.”

“Well, Director is Director...?”

The silence on the other end stretched long.

Only then did Haejun catch on. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what part of it had rubbed him the wrong way, but he could at least tell Lee Kangjoo didn’t like that form of address.

“When Seokho hyung—no, when Manager Yang comes, I’ll give him the documents. You said second drawer, right?”

The call didn’t disconnect.

But no words came either.

For no reason, Haejun started tapping the phone lightly with his fingertips. Even when he called out, “Director?” there was no answer.

Maybe.

It was ridiculous, really.

There was no way Lee Kangjoo could actually be in a mood over something as trivial as a title.

But Haejun wasn’t clueless. If there was one thing years of handling customers had sharpened, it was his instincts.

He cleared his throat softly. He’d called him this plenty of times in his head, but saying it out loud—saying it where Lee Kangjoo could hear—was embarrassingly different.

“...Kangjoo... hyung?”

Even so, he forced the courage out. Haejun called him carefully, anxious and restless even as the words left him, wondering if this was really the right answer.

What was it about one stupid title that made his heart race like this?

“...I’m listening.”

He got it right.

That was the answer.

Haejun clenched his fist triumphantly, grinning at the phone even though Lee Kangjoo obviously couldn’t see him.

“Manager Yang will be there in thirty minutes.”

Haejun barely managed to swallow the laugh threatening to burst out of him. He answered yes, traded a few more words, and finally ended the call.

That “stupid title” applied to him too.

What the hell was so special about the word hyung? Just the fact that he’d gotten to call Lee Kangjoo that made it feel like he was walking on clouds.