When Kim Dokja picked up this new suit from the spoils of a scenario as a mere wardrobe change, he did not expect it to lead to something like this.
From across the room, Yoo Joonghyuk is currently staring at him with so much fury like he just singlehandedly eradicated his entire family.
At first, like the expert avoidant introvert that he is, Kim Dokja tries to ignore it; and it works well for a while, while they and the rest of their companions trudge around the main hall of the industrial complex trying to calculate their respective loot.
But then, once the crowd disperses and Kim Dokja is the last to leave the room, Yoo Joonghyuk’s ancient combat boots click raucously against the floor tiles, louder with each echo, and it takes Kim Dokja a moment to realise he’s being approached.
While he is busy trying to figure out a way to read the Ways of Survival text file on his phone without removing the leather gloves, Kim Dokja is suddenly dragged by the waist like a rag doll to face a pair of scrunched up eyebrows opposite him.
“Hi,” says Kim Dokja, awkwardly, slipping the phone back into his blazer pocket and raising both hands up in defeat before he even realises what the fight is. Either way, he’s not in a mood to entertain a battle to the death with Yoo Joonghyuk, for whatever reason.
“What’s the matter? Do you have a disagreement with the split we decided on?”
Yoo Joonghyuk just snorts in his face like a bull, a hand clasped on a suspender attached to Kim Dokja’s hip.
It puts them in an awkward position, each time Kim Dokja trying to pull away only resulting in Yoo Joonghyuk hoisting him back like a fish caught on a pole until he is pressed up against a wall.
The regressor still stares him down like he murdered his sister, not responding to his question, and for a moment Kim Dokja felt so guilt-tripped he has to recall whether or not Yoo Mia is still alive and well.
“Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi? What’s the issue?”
At this, the male in question glances up and down his entire body, giving him a once-over with such a stern gaze it makes Kim Dokja momentarily self-conscious. His hands, which are still raised in the air, slightly wavers in confusion.
Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk speaks.
“It’s only the sixth scenario,” grumbles the protagonist, then another harsh tug is done to his hip that makes his lower-half awkwardly clash against Yoo Joonghyuk’s. “But you’ve already changed clothes five times.”
Kim Dokja is stunned into silence at the triviality of the matter. This bastard, he gets mad just because he got a new outfit?
“Is that what it’s about? Would you like an outfit change too, Joonghyuk-ssi?” The male’s smile morphs into a lopsided grin, briefly glacing at the vice grip the protagonist has on his suspenders.
Say, Yoo Joonghyuk wears a lot of belts. Perhaps he wanted to add this to his outfit as a part of the battle gear, and got jealous Kim Dokja got it first? That must be it.
With that in mind, Kim Dokja slyly reaches down, brushes past the regressor’s calloused hands, and unclasps the suspender from behind his back.
“Here. Since you seem to like it a lot, you can have it.”
Kim Dokja is just halfway through unclasping the other side and handing Yoo Joonghyuk the brown leather strap when the taller growls and yanks him again.
“Kim Dokja!” Yoo Joonghyuk hisses, looking even more infuriated, and Kim Dokja realises that maybe that isn’t the reason why.
Damn. Protagonists and their unexplained anger issues.
“What? You don’t want it?” says a bewildered Kim Dokja, before a realisation hits him. Perhaps the suspenders aren’t all that he wants—perhaps he wants the whole outfit?
“Oh, do you want the entire thing? Here, take it,” says Kim Dokja without so much as a struggle before he slips his hands behind his shoulders, and at once, starts stripping off his blazer.
This does a very good job putting a mortified look on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
“Kim Dokja! Stop it!” He hollers like he just saw a ghost, both hands now clutching Kim Dokja’s, which was just unbuttoning his inner shirt. In hindsight, Kim Dokja realises that the situation may be a bit ridiculous.
Then again, it was Yoo Joonghyuk who chose to get so worked up over something so ridiculous, thus it isn’t his fault he’s having a bit of fun teasing him—right?
But then he looks up, and there’s a hint of a flush travelling up Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck. Kim Dokja can’t recall if Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes looked like this moments before, or if they are suddenly filled with a trace of something more behind that rage.
“If you don’t want the outfit, then what is it that you want, Joonghyuk-ssi?”
The protagonist’s eyelashes flutter, and for a single moment, a trace of uncertainty flits past his expression. If anyone were to walk in on them right now, there’s no telling what they’d read out of their current situation—Kim Dokja pressed against a wall with one suspender down, blazer on the floor and two buttons undone.
Unexpectedly, the regressor throws Kim Dokja over his shoulder like he’s manhandling a toddler, and suddenly he doesn’t find teasing Yoo Joonghyuk as funny anymore.
“Bastard, what are you doing? Put me down!” Shrieks Kim Dokja like a teenage schoolgirl, thrashing in the male’s firm hold and punching his wide back—and why does Yoo Joonghyuk have to have a hand placed on his butt?
“You asked me what I want,” says Yoo Joonghyuk, heading down the hallway with wide strides. If any of their companions were nearby to hear Kim Dokja’s cries for help, the furious look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes shot down all their attempts of approaching.
“So I’ll show you.”
“And what the hell does that mean, dickhead?!”
When Yoo Joonghyuk slams his bedroom door close behind him with his foot and plops him down onto his bed, Kim Dokja suddenly gets what this all means.
He backtracks on the mattress as Yoo Joonghyuk looms over him, leering like a predator about to devour his prey. Kim Dokja also feels the part.
Something about the look on the regressor’s face changes—and his eyes glint with a tinge of dangerous intent that Kim Dokja doesn’t recognise.
Yoo Joonghyuk is currently hovered above him in a kneeling position between his parted legs, staring him down like he’s about to ravage him whole.
Kim Dokja gulps wordlessly as his backtracking makes his back hit the headboard. Strangely, heat begins to stir in the pit of his stomach from that look alone.
He has to choose his next words carefully, and play his cards right if he is to get out of this alive. “Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi? Whatever it is, how about we talk this through first—?”
His words are cut short when he gets a perfect sight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s patience snapping like a thread, that manifesting in the form of his entire body thrown down and pressed into the bed by the man above him.
“How do you walk around in something like this and expect no consequences?”
His wrists are pinned to the headboard above his head in the regressor’s singular hand, and his inner shirt comes untucked along the way, showing the skin of his exposed tummy. The male’s hawk-like vision of course doesn’t dismiss it, and the look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes turns… voracious.
Kim Dokja has never been stared at so intensely in his life, and the fact that it’s coming from such a bastardly handsome face is doing little to the heat rushing south of his body.
“Like what?” In a typically stupid manner, Kim Dokja rebukes, head slightly tilted as he tries to regard himself.
“It’s just a normal suit. It’s not like I’m wearing a Chinese dress with garter belts—”
At that mention, Yoo Joonghyuk makes a ferocious noise at the back of his throat, and pushes his wrists up further. Suddenly, a gear clicks in Kim Dokja’s head.
“Ah, I see. It’s the suspenders, isn’t it?”
Kim Dokja exclaims with a shit-eating grin, even slightly wiggling his hips for emphasis. From above him, he watches as Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes tremble when they detect his movements.
“Do you like them, Joonghyuk-ssi? Do you like them on me?”
Kim Dokja realises the power he just now possesses over the regressor, and he admits that he does the bare minimum to conceal his vainglory. The male snickers just as Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flash at the question.
“You are doing this on purpose.”
“I didn’t specifically have seducing you on top of my to-do list when I picked this up from the scenario spoils,” replies Kim Dokja, spreading his legs even further as Yoo Joonghyuk leans in closer. Now, they are nose to nose, Kim Dokja’s inner thigh continuously brushing against the protagonist’s hips.
“But is it working? Hm?”
Yoo Joonghyuk makes an expression like he’s both enjoying and hating this at the same time, a jarring balance between lust and anger present on all the lines of his face. What a sight for Kim Dokja’s eyes as they twinkle in mirth. Riling him up is way too easy, it isn’t his fault he’s just enjoying the ride.
“You will regret this,” Yoo Joonghyuk warns through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, like he’s desperately still trying to hold himself together despite carrying Kim Dokja to his very own bed.
“No I won’t,” he swiftly answers, raising a leg to rub against Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips, curling around the regressor’s toned frame, and the force around his wrists momentarily relent. “What makes you think I don’t want this?”
[Incarnation, ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ has activated ‘Lie Detection Lvl. ???’]
[Incarnation, ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ verifies the statement to be true.]
Kim Dokja wordlessly reads the system message above their heads and couldn’t help the snort he lets out.
“Would you rather I go seduce Lee Hyunsung-ssi instead?” His words drop into a whisper as he pushes himself up slightly from the pillows, brushing his nose against Yoo Joonghyuk’s.
“Do you think he’ll fuck me better than you would?”
Almost instantaneously, his head is pushed back into the pillow as the regressor’s full body weight now crashes onto him. The look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes burn so brightly with lust it tethers to murderous intent. Kim Dokja feels his cock helplessly twitch in his pants.
“Kim Dokja, I’ll make you take that back.”
He isn’t given a chance to retort with another snarky comeback before a pair of lips are smashed against his, yet Kim Dokja welcomes the intrusion with a muffled chuckle like he expects it.
He’s waited his entire life to kiss Yoo Joonghyuk.
The protagonist sets the pace fiery early on, wasting no time to devour him in his exploitation until Kim Dokja feels breathless. His jaw goes slack as soon as an intruding tongue is shoved down his throat, the same moment Yoo Joonghyuk’s free hand pulls and breaks his suspender clasp. Kim Dokja internally mourns for the loss of his new outfit’s short-lived life.
Yoo Joonghyuk kisses just like how he fights: fast, ferocious, aggressive, and downright dirty. Saliva bundles at the corner of Kim Dokja’s mouth from the repeated ambush of the regressor’s tongue, drooling down both their chins and landing on his exposed chest in a slow drip.
Vaguely, he registers something fastening around his wrists, and suddenly both of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands are all over him—on his face, under his shirt, beneath the waistline of his trousers, touch searing hot.
The regressor touches him so roughly like he wants to extinguish his lifeline; yet so delicately—like he’s been deprived of Kim Dokja for over a thousand lifetimes, having waited centuries for this very moment. The thought makes Kim Dokja lightheaded, moaning meekly as his calloused fingers trail to rub against his nipples.
When they finally pull apart, Kim Dokja retreats with a choked gasp, shirt completely unbuttoned and torso revealed in all its entirety.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands feel larger, hotter when they’re on him than when they’re seen polishing his sword, tracing the rise and dip of his waist that he seems to be able to hold in one palm alone.
“Your hands. Keep them there,” says Yoo Joonghyuk, voice stern like it’s a command rather than a suggestion. Kim Dokja looks up, and as expected, the bastard pulled his suspender and broke the clasp just to tie his wrists with it.
“You bastard, what am I going to wear now?” Kim Dokja hisses, words soon cut off with an airy moan when Yoo Joonghyuk starts planting kisses to his neck.
Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t known to be a man who wastes time, and now more than ever, he’s living up to the truthfulness of that statement.
“You aren’t wearing that for anyone else to see ever again,” mumbles the regressor against his skin, and Kim Dokja would’ve missed it had it not been for the obvious jealousy in his tone. He almost wants to snort.
If he spins his words around, that means Yoo Joonghyuk only wants Kim Dokja to wear them for him. The thought sends a thrill down his spine, and for some odd reasons, Kim Dokja smiles. “Fine. Only for you.”
“Only for me,” echoes Yoo Joonghyuk once he pulls away, meeting Kim Dokja’s eyes. There’s only a minor shift in his expression, but he almost looks… satisfied. It truly is an odd expression on Yoo Joonghyuk’s usually stoic face.
From his neck, Kim Dokja still feels a slight tingle from the heat where Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips were on him last. He’s almost confident that a hickey the size of his thumb is already in the making.
But Yoo Joonghyuk immediately latches his mouth onto his areola the same time he rolls his hips down against Kim Dokja’s, and suddenly he had no room left to complain.
The thickness of his girth, despite being separated by layers of clothing, can still be felt without fail as it protrudes against the dip between Kim Dokja’s ass. He lets out an embarrassingly lewd moan, face heating up instantly once he catches Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes shooting up to his face.
From his place on Kim Dokja’s chest, piercing eyes staring through blunt lashes and well-defined brows; sculpted lips that normally sit in a straight line now curled around his nipple, Yoo Joonghyuk looks utterly breathtaking. Just the sight alone makes Kim Dokja redden, breaking eye contact and turning his head away out of shyness.
It seems that this doesn’t go over well with Yoo Joonghyuk, because the next moment his face is cupped in one hand, forcibly turned to look at a pair of patronising orbs.
“Look at me,” says Yoo Joonghyuk, his other hand shoved down the front of Kim Dokja’s pants without warning. The unexpected warmth that comes into contact with his member makes his face contort in a pleasured gasp. Yoo Joonghyuk drinks in every shift in Kim Dokja’s expression.
“I want to see every face you make.”
“If this is because you want me to take back what I said, then I will! Just—ah!—stop looking at me like that, Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja finally blurts out, face red in embarrassment despite his hips rutting into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold on his cock, now stroking him in a pace too lethargic for his liking.
“Like what?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, a free hand steadily unzipping his pants and pulling down all of his remaining clothes on his bottom half. Now unrestrained, Kim Dokja’s member springs up in full force, already completely erected despite Yoo Joonghyuk not having done much yet. It’s truly embarrassing.
“Like you waited your whole life to fuck me or something,” Kim Dokja wants to snap, wants to tell him to get it over with and fuck him already—because since they started, Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t stop looking at him with those eyes that makes him feel things, and Kim Dokja wants to implode.
But Yoo Joonghyuk just looks at him with an impassive face. “Maybe,” he states, like he’s talking about the weather, hand on Kim Dokja’s length steadily picking up speed. “So what if I did?”
“You bastard, you can’t just—ah, fuck!—say stuff like that with a straight face!” Yells Kim Dokja, feeling his face heat up beyond measure before bashfully turning away to hide it in the pillow. Electricity jolts run through his entire body, Yoo Joonghyuk’s touch scalding and leaving embers of a licking flame in its wake.
Kim Dokja’s back arches just as he can feel his orgasm building in his stomach, grinding his hips into the delicious friction. Just a little more, and he’ll dash out of this room at lightning speed once this is all over.
Only for Yoo Joonghyuk to pull away at the very last moment and cup his face again. “I said look at me.”
Kim Dokja does little to conceal his displeased grunt, whining loudly with hips still hung in the air. But Yoo Joonghyuk sits up to pull his shirt over his head, and Kim Dokja is immediately shunned into silence at the sight.
His body is just as heavenly as Kim Dokja’s always daydreamed it to be: Well-defined and finely crafted like a Pygmalion statue, each line of his toned abs punctuated with prominent contours and a constellation of battle scars accenting his tan skin.
Kim Dokja is vaguely aware of how much he’s staring, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t look like he’s hating it, leaning in even closer as if to let him have a better look. If his hands aren’t restrained right now, there’s no telling how far they would reach on Yoo Joonghyuk’s body.
Yoo Joonghyuk just returns his gaze, and for a quiet moment, they’re both engaged in a silent battle of eye-fucking that makes Kim Dokja even more embarrassed for some odd reason.
But he doesn’t look away, not even when Yoo Joonghyuk distractedly purchases something off the Dokkaebi bag on the transparent blue panel between them. Only once is the object procured in his hands, its contents poured and slathered over Yoo Joonghyuk’s palms, does Kim Dokja recognise it.
“Kim Dokja. I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”
Lube. He holds a breath, legs trembling in anticipation around Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips. Kinky bastard.
He expects those rough fingers, now slick with lube to slide down his hole and seize him—yet what he doesn’t expect is for Yoo Joonghyuk to undo his pants and pull out his monstrous cock instead, spreading the lube all over his erection.
“Wait a minute, aren’t you going to—you know—” Kim Dokja stammers, eyes rounding up in fear as he peers down at the sheer size of Yoo Joonghyuk’s member.
It’s fully erect, looking almost painfully hard with how red the tip is. Kim Dokja doesn’t fail to notice the way a vein bulges and protrudes along the side. The sight makes him both salivate and fear for his life at the same time—because in what way is that going to fit into his unprepped hole?
“That’s a waste of time. Your ‘Fourth Wall’ skill will offset the pain,” states Yoo Joonghyuk, voice so matter-of-fact it makes Kim Dokja want to break out into a yell.
Yet Kim Dokja can’t refute, because what Yoo Joonghyuk said makes perfect sense. The Fourth Wall has taken off a bunch of mental and physical pain from his body, and there’s no reason for it to not do its job this time.
That doesn’t mean Kim Dokja still isn’t afraid of his body splitting in half on Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock, though. Even with the ‘Fourth Wall’ skill, there is no way taking a dick that big is going to be completely painless.
But he has no room to voice his concerns, not when Yoo Joonghyuk’s so fucking quick—hands already holding his hips and folding him in half as he lines himself up with Kim Dokja’s hole. The latter’s body trembles, breaths shaky just as the tip manages to invade its way in. Kim Dokja’s hands convulse from above his head, thrashing further into the pillow the more Yoo Joonghyuk penetrates him.
The regressor is mindful enough to slide in as slowly as he possibly could, but it does little to stop Kim Dokja from crying out like he’s on a trial by fire.
Luckily, just as Yoo Joonghyuk bottoms out inside him, breath equally ragged above his head, a familiar message rings out.
[The Fourth Wall has offset a majority of your physical pain!]
Never did he think that such a skill would come in handy at a time like this. Yoo Joonghyuk truly is a crazy bastard.
The bastard in question is currently panting softly only a finger’s width away from his lips, hands forming bruises into his sides from his grip, much so that Kim Dokja lets out a little yelp.
“Crazy bastard, how come you’re blessed with everything—how the hell did Lee Seolhwa endure thi—agh!” Just as Kim Dokja is about to resort to whining as a coping mechanism for the pain, Yoo Joonghyuk immediately starts shifting his hip, thrusting into him at a ludicrous speed. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as painful as he expected to be—and a string of low moans fall from his parted lips.
[The ‘Fourth Wall’ has offset some of your physical shock!]
Kim Dokja’s eyes snap up, just about to yell at him before he’s immediately shut up by the deep scowl on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
“Don’t mention other people when you’re alone with me.” His voice drops dangerously low, dripping with warning, and hair rises on the back of Kim Dokja’s neck.
That’s the last warning he gets before Yoo Joonghyuk straightens his posture and starts thrusting into him at a nonsensical speed, making Kim Dokja’s body flail up and down against the mattress like a used up sex doll.
Yoo Joonghyuk kisses like how he fights, that much Kim Dokja realises.
But now he also knows that Yoo Joonghyuk, additionally, also fucks like how he fights: fast, aggressive, ferocious, and downright fucking monstrous.
“I’m sorry! I—ah! Fuck! God—Yoo Joonghyuk! Too fast, I—” Kim Dokja launches into full panic mode as stars begin to fill his vision, blabbering an array of slurred words between his moans that are increasing in pitch, synchronous to Yoo Joonghyuk’s building rhythm. The male is pounding into him like he’s drilling a nail into a wall, the bed rocking and squeaking noisily along with them. Kim Dokja suddenly fears that Yoo Joonghyuk might break his own bed if this keeps up.
“Too fast?” The regressor repeats, hands now locking the back of Kim Dokja’s knees as he raises his hips higher to meet his thrusts. At this point, the lower half of his body is pathetically suspended in mid-air, legs flailing in nothingness as whiny moans of Yoo Joonghyuk’s name continue to spill from his mouth, irrespective to his complaint. “Ask me to stop, then.”
For emphasis, Yoo Joonghyuk dramatically slows down, rolling his hips only casually now and making sure to never go all the way in. What a bastard.
This drives Kim Dokja crazy almost immediately, back arching and hips desperately rutting back, greedy for more. Unfortunately for him, his movements are limited by Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands holding him in place.
“N-no, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please—more,” Kim Dokja immediately switches sides, voice cracking in a plea like the shameless person he is. The perk of not having a moral compass comes in handy only just now.
If Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t want to give him what he wants, Kim Dokja will have to resort to the classic: annoying him until he gets riled up.
“Yoo Joonghyuk… God damn it, fuck me like you mean it, you regressor bastard. What have you been doing wasting your other lifetimes, huh? Did you get rusty and become infertile? I’m right here now, so show me what you g—oh!”
The ploy takes effect almost immediately, and the rest of Kim Dokja’s taunts are buried back into his throat. They are replaced by obscene, high-pitched sounds he didn’t even know he was capable of making when Yoo Joonghyuk presses him down again and finally, finally fucks him like he means it.
From then on, Kim Dokja loses tracks of the sounds that escape his lips—whether it’s a plea, a cry for help, a yell of complaint, or a mantra of Yoo Joonghyuk’s name chanted religiously under his breath, he couldn’t focus.
All that he could focus on are the feeling of the protagonist’s pulsating cock driving him to the edge of oblivion, and a pair of dark, abyssal eyes staring him down with enough flames to set his entire body alight.
Even throughout the entire time they’re having sex, not once has Yoo Joonghyuk looked away.
He doesn’t know when it happened, but Kim Dokja only comes to his senses once the delicious warmth slips out from his hole, his body mercilessly manhandled in a series of dizzying sequences. He gurgles when his cheek meets the pillow, head shoved deep into the mattress after being forced onto his knees.
They tremble as Yoo Joonghyuk pulls at the suspenders around his wrists, hoisting him up and keeping Kim Dokja from diving head first into the headboard in front of him.
He feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s girth bottoming out inside him again at full speed before he can complain of the loss, and Kim Dokja’s back arches at an unnatural angle. The readjusted position drives Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock even possibly deeper, hitting dead-on a bunch of sensitive nerves that has Kim Dokja letting out an earth-shattering sob.
“Fuck!” He cusses, and Yoo Joonghyuk takes that as his cue to continue abusing his prostate. This has Kim Dokja crying profusely until his throat feels hoarse, head hanging lifelessly on top of his neck. “Right there, Joonghyuk-ah… More…”
“Good,” replies Yoo Joonghyuk, his voice sounding noticeably more rasped.
The next time he speaks, it’s coming from somewhere significantly closer, and only then does Kim Dokja realise he’s been pulled back by the suspenders until he’s kneeling completely upright. Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice resounds right next to his ear, making Kim Dokja let out a shrill whimper at the back of his throat. “Is this good enough for you to regret what you said?”
Kim Dokja can’t even remember his own name, much less what he said among many other things to rile Yoo Joonghyuk up. Alas, he nods obediently, no thoughts on his mind other than how good Yoo Joonghyuk’s fucking him. “Yes! Never again…”
“And you’ll never consider seducing other people?” The regressor continues, one hand still holding him up by the suspenders around his wrist, the other gripping Kim Dokja by his nape. The latter subconsciously leans into his touch, throwing his head back with a broken sob.
“Never. Only you,” replies Kim Dokja, croaking his eyes open to meet Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze just in time to catch a ghost of a smile on the corner of his lips.
“Only I can see you like this,” Yoo Joonghyuk holds his gaze, as if to prove his point, momentum in his thrusts yet to cease as he rails him down. “And only I can do this to you. Remember that well, Kim Dokja.”
Yoo Joonhyuk releases his hold on him only to embrace his body tightly with both arms, pressing his chest flush against his back. The body heat, along with squelching skin-slapping noise makes Kim Dokja’s head spin, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth with how much he’s been moaning.
The constant force of Yoo Joonghyuk hitting his prostate with every frantic thrust is what drives him to the edge, but it’s the regressor’s words that are what made Kim Dokja topple over.
He lets out the loudest, most indecent rendition of Yoo Joonghyuk’s name as his orgasm hits him in full swing, white spurting in stuttering squelches onto the otherwise spotlessly clean sheets in front of him.
White spots also overtake his vision as his head clears into an empty slate, the only thing still on his mind is the regressor also filling hot strings of semen inside him; Kim Dokja’s name low on his lips.
When Yoo Joonghyuk finally retreats, all energy escapes Kim Dokja as he collapses head first into the bed, ass still hung up in the air.
“Your stamina is awful,” Yoo Joonghyuk has the audacity to comment, pushing his hips down carelessly until Kim Dokja lays flat in in a starfish position. All he can conjure in response is a gurgled grumble, burying his face into the pillow.
“Not my fault I just had sex with a monster.”
“This won’t happen again if you stop wearing those suspenders,” Yoo Joongyuk lies down beside him, not even bothering to tuck any of them under the covers.
“That only encourages me to wear them more often,” Kim Dokja lazily replies, half his face buried in the pillow with a drunken smile.
Something about the sight tugs at Yoo Joonghyuk’s heartstrings. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.
“Rest now, or I will fuck you again.”
“You horny bastard.”
The last thing he registers is warmth stuck to his side and the feeling of soft lips pressed to his temple, as well as a message ringing inside his head.
It was a Midday Tryst message, sent from Han Sooyoung.
- I knew that damned bastard would go crazy. You lost the bet. Pay me my 20,000 coins, Kim Dokja.
- You were the one who added the suspenders.
- But in the end, you got laid all thanks to me. 20,000 coins, now.
- Wait. Were you eavesdropping?
- I said now.