Beom's gaze drifted to Sasha, who caught his eye and held it with a challenging look, as if daring him to react. Beom stared back, feeling a strange mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling within him. This whole scene was getting far too strange. He didn't want to be part of it anymore.
"Since I'm done, I should just go shower and leave them to it," Beom thought to himself, pushing down the growing urge to distance himself from the scene unfolding in front of him. He began to shift off the bed, heading toward the bathroom, when suddenly he felt a weight on his lap.
Sasha had thrown Aaliyah onto him without warning, her body landing awkwardly across his thighs, bringing a startled gasp to Beom's lips.
"Ugh!...is this guy crazy?" Beom thought, his eyes snapping up to glare at Sasha. The disbelief must have shown in his expression, because Sasha simply smirked, as if he found Beom's discomfort amusing, and continued to thrust into Aaliyah, unfazed by Beom's presence or reaction.
Beom felt trapped, his skin prickling with unease as he sat there, trying to keep himself steady while Sasha continued, his movements unrelenting. Every small shift and sound made Beom's discomfort intensify, and he could feel his pulse quicken with an unshakable sense of awkwardness.
"Ugh!" he muttered under his breath, feeling his frustration mounting as he struggled to hold himself together.
"It feels like I'm the one getting violated," Beom thought, cringing internally. He desperately wanted to push them both off, to remove himself from the entire situation, but he was momentarily frozen, unsure of how to escape without making things even more awkward.
Sasha turned his attention back to Beom-ki, his expression unreadable. Without warning, he pushed Aaliyah gently aside, her eyes fluttering closed as she drifted into an exhausted daze. Then Sasha's gaze locked onto Beom-ki. In a quick move, he lifted Beom-ki's leg onto his shoulder, his smirk growing as he watched Beom-ki's stunned expression.
"HEY! No—let go of me, you jerk!" Beom-ki yelled, instinctively shoving at Sasha's chest, his mind racing with irritation and disbelief. But Sasha's strength outweighed his resistance, and he barely budged. Beom-ki gritted his teeth, feeling the frustration mount as he struggled to free himself from Sasha's grip.
The smirk on Sasha's face only grew wider, almost as if he found amusement in Beom-ki's resistance. He shifted, drawing closer, and Beom-ki's pulse quickened, both with anger and discomfort. Sasha's hold was firm as he pressed Beom-ki's legs together, his grip unyielding.
Beom-ki's thoughts swirled. What does he think he's doing? This isn't a joke—does he really think I'd let him get away with this? He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, but his frustration only grew. His gaze locked onto Sasha's, determined not to let his discomfort show.
"Let me go, you idiot," he muttered under his breath, summoning every bit of defiance he could muster.
Sasha pressed his hips forward, his shaft pressing firmly between Beom-ki's thighs. The sudden, intrusive contact sent a shock through Beom-ki's entire body, making him jolt involuntarily.
"...NGHH," he gasped, voice shaky and tense as he wriggled, desperate to push Sasha off. His heart hammered, a mix of frustration, confusion, and a touch of panic filling his mind as he struggled to break free.
"Stop... let go!" Beom-ki managed to say, his tone bordering on pleading, though he hated the vulnerability it revealed. What is he doing? His thoughts spun in every direction, each one clamoring for him to break Sasha's grip and escape this uncomfortable situation.
But Sasha only chuckled softly, leaning in closer, his gaze dark and unreadable as he looked down at him. His expression was calm, as if he knew he held all the power in this moment. His grip tightened, preventing Beom-ki from squirming away, and that maddening smirk never left his face.
Why won't he stop? Beom-ki thought, feeling both trapped and utterly helpless. He gritted his teeth, frustration surging through him as he tried to twist out of Sasha's hold, only to find himself more securely pinned.
"Haah… stop, stop it… nghh," Beom gasped, struggling against Sasha's unrelenting grip. His hands pushed at Sasha's chest, but it was futile. His body betrayed him, heat pooling in his cheeks as an unwelcome sensation crept through him, leaving him flustered and furious.
Sasha tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. "Oh, well, well, well… look at you," he said, his voice smooth yet taunting. "You're not as against this as you want me to believe."
Beom's eyes widened in shock. "Shut up!" he barked, his voice cracking as he tried to wrestle free. But Sasha was stronger, his grip firm yet almost playful, like a cat toying with its prey.
"Adorable," Sasha chuckled, his tone dripping with amusement. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Beom's ear. "You're so easy to read, Beom. I don't even have to try."
Beom's mind raced, a swirl of indignation, confusion, and something he refused to acknowledge. His muscles tensed, his attempts to push Sasha away growing weaker as frustration mixed with shame. "I said stop," he hissed, though his voice had lost its edge, sounding more like a plea than a demand.
"No, stop… stop it!" Beom gasped, his voice trembling as he struggled against Sasha's hold. His attempts to push Sasha away were futile as Sasha slammed him back against the wall with unsettling ease.
"Stay still," Sasha murmured, his voice low and commanding, as he gripped Beom's thighs tightly, trapping him in place. Beom felt his breath hitch, his struggles weakening under Sasha's relentless movements.
"Haah… stop, st—" Beom's words were cut short as Sasha let out a deep groan, tilting his head back. A sudden, humiliating warmth splashed across Beom's face, leaving him stunned. His chest heaved as he blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened.
Beom's shock quickly turned to fury, his eyes narrowing into a glare that could cut steel. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom, even as his heart pounded in his chest.
Sasha chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wicked grin. He tilted his head, looking down at Beom with an air of smug satisfaction, his gaze unwavering. "I told you one day I'll shower you with my cum," he said, his voice oozing amusement.
Sasha's gaze flicked downward, his smirk deepening as he took in the situation. His eyes glimmered with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "So it's true," he thought to himself, his mind piecing together. "He really did have that surgery… I thought it was just talk."
Beom's chest heaved, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. "Get off me," he growled through gritted teeth, his voice low and sharp, carrying a dangerous edge.
"Huh? What was that?" Sasha replied, feigning innocence, his grin growing wider. He leaned in slightly, as if daring Beom to repeat himself.
"I said," Beom snapped, his glare burning holes into Sasha, "get. Off. Me."
Sasha chuckled, the sound low and mocking, as he finally stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender. "All right, all right, no need to get so worked up," he said, his voice dripping with false charm. "You're just so entertaining, Beom."
The moment Sasha moved away, Beom bolted, his legs carrying him to the washroom before he could think twice. He slammed the door shut behind him, his breathing uneven as he leaned against the sink. For a moment, he just stood there, gripping the edges of the porcelain basin, his knuckles turning white.
His eyes lifted slowly to the mirror, and he froze. Sasha's release was smeared across his face, the sight enough to make his stomach churn. "Shit," Beom muttered, his voice shaking with disgust and disbelief. His hands shot out to turn on the tap, and he splashed cold water onto his face with frantic urgency.
As the water cascaded over his skin, he scrubbed at his cheeks, his jaw tightening with every passing second. "This is disgusting," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with equal parts anger and shame. He couldn't believe he had let things get this far, couldn't believe the situation he now found himself in.
The image of Sasha's smug grin lingered in his mind, taunting him. "That bastard," Beom hissed under his breath, gripping the sink again as he stared into the mirror. His reflection was a mix of emotions—anger, humiliation, and a flicker of something else he couldn't quite name.
He turned off the tap, water dripping from his chin as he grabbed a towel and wiped his face clean. I won't let him get away with this, he thought, his eyes narrowing with determination. Whatever game Sasha was playing, Beom was done being the pawn.
As Beom entered the room, he was surprised to find Aaliyah standing there, pulling her shirt on with a casual elegance. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile soft and lingering as her gaze met his.
"I really had a lot of fun, Beom. I hope to see you again," she murmured, her voice low and warm. Then, to his surprise, she rose on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before leaving the room with a final, knowing smile. Beom felt a warmth creep across his face, a small blush blooming as he replayed the moment.
Then, it hit him—memories of Sasha's taunting actions flashed through his mind, and the blush was instantly replaced by frustration. "Shit… that asshole." He grabbed a towel and scrubbed his face, wiping away any trace of the earlier incident with irritation.
Settling on his bed, Beom opened his laptop, ready to go over his surveillance footage on Namjoon. But when he checked the recording, Namjoon's spot was empty. Confusion twisted his expression. "Where is Sasha?" he thought. "I need to find him… I need answers." He threw on his jacket and set out, the frustration simmering in his chest pushing him forward.
After searching a while, he made his way to the train's restaurant, eyes scanning the area for any sign of Sasha. His gaze swept over the tables until he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. "Wait… where have I seen that face before?" Beom thought, eyes narrowing as he tried to piece it together. A flash of memory hit him—the man worked at the same restaurant as Merlin before it exploded. The connection left his heart pounding. Could this guy be tied to that incident? His mind raced as he took a step forward.
The gunshot shattered the stillness of the train carriage, the sound bouncing off the metal walls and sending a wave of shock through Beom's entire body. Instinct kicked in, and he threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullet that ripped past him, grazing the space he'd just occupied. What the hell? His thoughts spun as he gathered himself, eyes snapping to the figure darting down the narrow corridor ahead.
"Hey, wait!" he shouted, breaking into a sprint. His footsteps pounded against the floor of the moving train, but the man didn't turn or slow. The gap between them widened as the stranger dashed around a corner, leaving Beom scrambling to keep up. I need answers. I need to know why he's here.
He pushed himself harder, weaving past passengers and ignoring their startled expressions as he chased the shadowy figure. But by the time he rounded the next corner, the man had vanished, leaving nothing but empty seats and the soft hum of the train as it sped through the night.
Beom's pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the carriage, eyes sharp as he searched for any sign of movement. And then—
"WHAM."
A sharp, jolting pain exploded at the back of his head, sending a white-hot flash through his vision. He stumbled forward, hands instinctively clutching the back of his head as the world around him spun. Why is it always my head? he thought bitterly, the pain crashing over him in waves. He tried to steady himself, but his legs gave out, and he sank to the floor, vision blurring as he fought to stay conscious.
Through the haze, he saw a figure—a man with blonde hair, standing over him with an unreadable expression. Sasha? The realization made his stomach twist. His mind raced, trying to piece together why Sasha was here, if he was the one behind the attack.
"S… Sasha?" Beom croaked, his voice barely audible as his strength faded. But before he could get an answer, the darkness closed in, pulling him under. His last thought was one of desperation and confusion, wondering if he could really trust the man standing over him—or if he'd walked straight into a trap he hadn't seen coming.