"Uaahh... ahhh... you're so... so big... nghh!" she cried out, her voice trembling with pleasure. Sasha's lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his ego clearly being fed by her words. He leaned back slightly, one hand sliding up to cup one of her breasts with deliberate care, his fingers teasing her sensitive skin.
Beom's annoyance only deepened. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his jaw tightening as he tried to look anywhere but at the spectacle playing out in front of him. Yet, despite himself, his gaze drifted back to Sasha.
And then he saw it.
For the first time, Beom caught a glimpse of Sasha's sheer size, and his thoughts came to a screeching halt. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing in disbelief. What the actual hell... His internal monologue stumbled as he tried to process what he was seeing.
The woman continued to move, her pace quickening, her moans growing louder and more erratic. Beom's mind, however, was stuck on one detail. How is she taking it so well? he wondered incredulously, his irritation now tinged with something that felt uncomfortably close to awe. If it were me... I would've collapsed by now.
Beom scowled at his own thoughts, his irritation bubbling over into outright disdain. What am I even thinking? He shook his head, glaring at Sasha, who remained utterly unfazed.
The smug bastard. Sasha's smirk seemed even more infuriating now, as though he knew exactly what Beom was thinking. He was clearly enjoying himself, both in the moment and in the knowledge that Beom was there, watching, unable to escape.
Beom shifted uncomfortably, his arms still crossed, his body tense with frustration. This is so stupid. Why am I even sitting here? Why can't he do this somewhere else? His mind raced with every possible insult he could throw at Sasha, but none of them felt satisfying enough to capture his growing irritation.
The creaking of the bed and the woman's gasps filled the room, a relentless reminder of the situation Beom was trapped in. He let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers tapping against his arm. I swear, if he keeps this up any longer, I'm going to throw something at him.
As the woman let out another loud moan, Beom groaned audibly, his patience wearing thin. He glared at Sasha, his expression practically screaming, Are you serious right now? But Sasha didn't even look his way, his focus entirely on the woman in his lap.
Beom clenched his fists, his frustration reaching its peak. This is the most obnoxious, inconsiderate thing anyone has ever done, he thought bitterly. And I'm stuck here, watching it like some kind of idiot.
He glanced toward the door, briefly considering leaving the room altogether, but his pride wouldn't let him. No way. I'm not going to let him think he's chased me out of my own space. Instead, Beom sat there, stewing in his irritation, determined to outlast Sasha's antics no matter how unbearable they became.
Sasha's jaw tightened, his body tensing as he reached his peak. A low, guttural sound escaped him, a mix of a groan and a growl, as his head tilted back slightly. Beom, despite his best efforts to look away, found his gaze drifting back to Sasha's face.
So that's what he looks like when he's having an orgasm, Beom thought, a mixture of curiosity and discomfort bubbling within him. The intensity of Sasha's expression—the way his features contorted, the slight tremble in his body—was impossible to ignore. It was raw, unfiltered, and for reasons Beom couldn't quite place, it left him feeling unsettled.
But before Beom could fully process the thought, his eyes were drawn downward, and what he saw next left him frozen. As the woman shifted and Sasha's massive girth slid free from her body, Beom's mind went blank for a moment.
His eyes widened in shock. What… is that? The sheer size of it was almost surreal. Beom sat there, too stunned to speak, his thoughts spiraling into disbelief.
It wasn't just big—it was huge. Thick, veiny, and intimidatingly long, it stood out starkly in the dim light of the room. Beom blinked, as if trying to convince himself that he wasn't seeing things, but the image burned itself into his brain.
How does something like that even exist? he wondered, his gaze involuntarily glued to the sight. The sheer size of it made him feel a pang of something unfamiliar—discomfort, envy, or perhaps just sheer bewilderment.
Beom's thoughts shifted downward to himself, and an involuntary comparison flashed through his mind. Why is his so... big? His brow furrowed as he glanced down at his own body under the blanket. I mean, I'm fine, right? Normal. Decent. But... that? That's not normal. That's... unnatural.
The woman let out a satisfied sigh as she collapsed onto Sasha's chest, completely spent, while Sasha's smug grin reappeared as if he knew exactly the kind of reaction he was eliciting—not just from the woman but from Beom as well.
Beom crossed his arms tightly, his irritation flaring up again. Why does he have to be so over the top about everything? Even this? He probably thinks he's some kind of god, doesn't he?
But try as he might, Beom couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back. The sheer size and prominence of it made it impossible to ignore. How is it even possible for him to walk around with something like that? And how does anyone handle it without... collapsing?
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to look away. This is ridiculous. Why am I even thinking about this? It's not like it matters.
But deep down, a part of him couldn't help but feel unsettled, his thoughts swirling with a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and begrudging acknowledgment of what he'd just witnessed. He glared at Sasha, who now lay back against the bed, looking utterly content, the woman still draped across him.
Beom's cheeks flushed as he quickly turned away, muttering under his breath, What an idiot. Why does he have to flaunt everything? He flopped back onto his own bed, pulling the blanket over his head as he tried to erase the memory from his mind.
But the image lingered, much to his dismay, as he sighed heavily and thought to himself, This is going to haunt me forever.
The room had finally fallen silent, the lingering scent of sweat and intimacy still heavy in the air. The woman had left, her departure as quiet as the muffled click of the door behind her. Beom sat frozen on his bed, his hands gripping his knees as he stared blankly ahead. His body trembled slightly, a mix of disbelief, irritation, and something he couldn't quite name coursing through him.
He had just experienced what could only be described as live porn—uncensored, raw, and entirely uninvited. The sounds, the sights, the unapologetic display... it was all too much. His chest tightened, a flush spreading across his cheeks as the events replayed in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push them away.
What the hell did I just witness? Beom thought, his fists clenching. This is not what I signed up for. I'm supposed to be on a mission, not trapped in some twisted adult film starring Sasha the Gigantic Show-Off.
His ears burned as he remembered the moans, the creaking of the bed, and, of course, the moment Sasha's monstrous girth had been fully revealed. Beom shook his head violently, as if trying to physically dislodge the memory. Why was it so... big? he thought again, his face scrunching in a mix of disgust and disbelief. It's not human. It's a weapon of mass destruction.
The bathroom door creaked open, snapping Beom out of his thoughts. Sasha walked back into the room, freshly showered, a towel slung casually around his neck. His expression was smug, as if he were utterly unbothered by what had just transpired.
Beom's eyes darted to him, his trembling intensifying. The audacity of Sasha to act so nonchalant after everything! Does he even care how uncomfortable he's made me? Does he even have an ounce of shame?
Sasha's gaze landed on Beom, and a sly grin spread across his face. "What's with you?" he asked, his tone teasing. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Beom's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "I might as well have," he muttered under his breath. His voice was shaky, betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him.
Sasha raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he studied Beom with that same infuriating smirk. "Oh, come on," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about what you saw."
Beom shot up from his bed, his fists trembling at his sides. "Still thinking about it?" he snapped. "How could I not? You practically turned this room into a... a..." He struggled to find the words, his face growing hotter with every passing second. "A damn live performance!"
Sasha chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the room. "Relax," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not like you haven't seen stuff like that before."
Beom's eyes widened in indignation. "Not like that!" he barked. "Not with you! Not... that close!" He paced the room, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
How is he so calm about this? Beom thought, his mind racing. Does he even realize how messed up this is? Or is this just another day in the life of Sasha the Shameless?
Sasha watched him with amusement, clearly enjoying Beom's meltdown. "You're acting like a kid," he said, shaking his head. "It's natural, you know. Adults do this kind of thing all the time."
Beom stopped pacing and turned to face him, his eyes blazing. "Not in the same room as someone else who's trying to sleep!" he shouted. "Do you have any concept of boundaries? Or basic decency?"
Sasha shrugged, completely unbothered. "What can I say? When the mood strikes, you don't let it go to waste."
Beom groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This guy is impossible, he thought, his shoulders slumping. How am I supposed to work with someone like this?
He sank back onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. This mission is going to kill me—not because of the danger, but because of him.
Sasha's smirk softened just a bit, his teasing demeanor shifting ever so slightly as he sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed the towel against his damp hair, glancing at Beom, who still sat with his face buried in his hands.
"Alright, alright, enough of the dramatics," Sasha said, leaning back against the wall. "We've got more important things to focus on than your... delicate sensibilities."
Beom lifted his head, shooting Sasha a glare. "Delicate?" he snapped. "You turned this room into a circus, and I'm the delicate one?" He exhaled sharply, trying to reel in his frustration. "You're unbelievable."
Sasha shrugged, tossing the towel onto his bed. "I've been called worse. But seriously, let's talk about Vladivostok. We need to get our heads straight before we arrive."
Beom sat up straighter, crossing his arms. "Fine," he muttered. "Anything to get off this topic."
Sasha leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Paul said the Seraphim Code—or AK-257, as you so cleverly pointed out—isn't in Moscow. If he's telling the truth, Vladivostok is a whole different beast."