Sasha's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's it," he cooed, his tone thick with triumph. "Beg for me. Let me hear you." He leaned down, his lips brushing against Beom's ear, his voice dropping to a dark whisper. "It just makes me want to push you even further…to see just how much you can take this cock."
Without warning, Sasha's hand snaked up to Beom's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. He pulled sharply, forcing Beom's head back so that their eyes met. "You'd better start moving with me," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "or maybe I'll take this even further than you'd like." His teeth grazed his bottom lip as he watched Beom, daring him to resist.
Beom's body responded instinctively, a shiver of something he refused to acknowledge rippling through him. His resolve was crumbling, and he hated it, hated that Sasha had this effect on him. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the sounds slipping from his mouth, the quiet pleas that betrayed his internal conflict.
Sasha's chuckle was dark and deeply satisfied. "That's it…keep begging. It only fuels me more." His fingers tightened in Beom's hair as he leaned in, his voice little more than a whisper, laced with a twisted sense of pleasure. "So…take it. Show me how much you can handle."
"I hate you, haah" Beom muttered, his voice cracking between breathy moans, defiance laced with vulnerability. Even as he said it, he could feel himself losing control, his body betraying him. Sasha smirked, the sound of Beom's resistance only fueling his desire, and a low, rough groan escaped his lips.
"Fuck…" Sasha muttered under his breath, his tone raw with need. His movements became more intense, each thrust slow but unrelenting, as though he was savoring every moment. His jaw clenched, muscles taut, as he felt himself edging closer. The air was thick, their shared breaths mingling in the heated silence of the room, broken only by the rhythm of their bodies moving together.
With a final, powerful thrust, Sasha reached his peak, his whole body tensing as he surrendered to the moment. A rough gasp tore from him as he released, his breathing harsh and uneven, filling the room with the weight of his satisfaction. Beom lay beneath him, chest heaving, barely able to catch his breath. His face was flushed, eyes half-lidded, still in a daze as he sank back onto the bed, overwhelmed and exhausted.
Sasha's gaze drifted downward, taking in the sight of his release slowly slipping from Beom. A twisted satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, his smirk deepening as he reached out, grabbing Beom's leg and pulling him closer. Beom's eyes shot open, a mixture of surprise and alarm flashing across his face as he tried to pull back, but Sasha's grip was firm, unyielding.
"You thought I was done?" Sasha's voice was a dark whisper, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he leaned in, his breath hot against Beom's ear. He let his hand drift down to Beom's side, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between them. "This is only the beginning," he murmured, his voice dripping with anticipation.
Beom's heart pounded in his chest, and a shiver ran through him as he met Sasha's intense gaze. He knew that look, the one that promised more, that hinted at the endless possibilities Sasha had in mind. Beom's mind raced, a mix of defiance and trepidation surging through him, but he found himself unable to look away, caught in Sasha's unwavering stare.
Sasha chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound that sent a chill down Beom's spine. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, his tone taunting yet strangely gentle. "We're just getting started. You're going to remember every moment of this." With a firm grip still holding Beom in place, he leaned in, his lips grazing Beom's ear, his words a dark promise.
Beom's breath hitched, his body instinctively tensing, but somewhere beneath the resistance, he felt the faintest thrill. He hated himself for it, hated Sasha even more, but in that moment, he was completely at Sasha's mercy.
"It's been four days now… seven days in total… How can someone rape a person non-stop, day and night for 7 days straight...is he some sort of sex machine?" Beom thought, his mind hazy with exhaustion. His body felt like it had been pushed far beyond its limits—every inch of him was sore, aching from the relentless strain. He could barely move, his muscles heavy and unresponsive, his eyes too weary to even open fully.
His body was covered in traces of Sasha's actions, marking him in ways he could still feel, even as his senses dulled from sheer exhaustion. A faint whisper escaped his lips, his voice barely audible. "W-Water… please… I just… I need water…" he muttered, the words slurred and desperate.
Sasha glanced over, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he took in Beom's pitiful state. "Oh, you're thirsty, huh?" he drawled, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.
Without a second thought, Sasha reached for a nearby bottle of alcohol, his grin widening. He moved closer, and with a cruel chuckle, tipped the bottle over, pouring the cold liquid down Beom's trembling body. The alcohol stung as it touched sensitive skin, and Beom gasped, the sensation sharp and biting.
"There you go," Sasha sneered, watching as the alcohol trickled down Beom's form. "Drink up." He chuckled, his voice laced with mockery, clearly enjoying Beom's helplessness.
Beom shivered, his body overwhelmed by the sting and chill of the alcohol, his mind drifting somewhere between desperation and numb resignation.
Sasha's voice carried a mocking lilt, the kind that made Beom's blood boil even in his weakened state. "Wow, I can't believe you're still alive, Beom," Sasha said, his tone equal parts amused and sinister. "You really are one tough agent. But let me do you a favor—let's speed this up, shall we?" His smirk widened as he pushed himself off the bed, moving with an unsettling calm.
Beom's gaze followed Sasha as he approached a safe embedded in the wall. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the lock, though the ease in his movements suggested he had done this countless times. Beom's heart pounded in his chest, every beat a cruel reminder of how little control he had left. He tried to shift his body, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish from exhaustion and the lingering effects of whatever ordeal Sasha had already put him through.
The metallic clink of the safe unlocking sent a chill down Beom's spine. Sasha swung the door open, revealing a collection of small glass vials, each filled with a different colored liquid. They glinted menacingly under the faint light, an eerie rainbow of destruction. Beom's stomach twisted as Sasha reached for one with a dark, almost viscous liquid swirling inside.
Sasha plucked the vial out with an almost reverent care, as if it were his prized possession. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding the vial up as he turned back to face Beom. The syringe in his other hand gleamed, a sharp instrument of terror. His voice was casual, but the malice lurking beneath it was palpable, making Beom's skin crawl.
Beom's breath hitched as he watched Sasha draw the liquid into the syringe. His mind raced, cycling through every possible scenario, every bit of training he'd ever received. Stay calm. Look for an opening. Don't show fear. But how could he not? His chest tightened with dread, his instincts screaming that whatever was in that syringe was far worse than anything he'd endured so far.
Sasha took a step closer, his boots echoing ominously against the floor. "This," he began, holding the syringe up like a trophy, "is called Oblivion. Appropriate name, don't you think?" His smirk deepened, his blue eyes glinting with sadistic delight. "A drug designed to strip you of everything. Your strength, your will, your mind. It's a work of art, really."
Beom swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. Oblivion… The name alone sent a shiver down his spine, conjuring images of darkness, of endless suffering. He clenched his fists weakly, his nails biting into his palms. I can't let him use that on me. I can't let him win.
Sasha tilted his head, clearly savoring the terror flashing across Beom's face. "Don't look so worried," he said mockingly. "It won't kill you right away. No, no, that would be too easy. First, it will course through your veins, making you feel warm, almost safe. Like a lullaby." His grin grew darker. "And then, the real fun begins. Your nerves will catch fire, one by one. Your body will betray you. And you? You'll feel every single moment of it."
Beom's chest heaved as his breathing grew erratic. He wanted to fight back, to spit some scathing remark, but his voice caught in his throat. His mind churned with desperation. Not like this. This isn't how it ends. There has to be a way out. Think, Beom. Think!
Sasha knelt beside him, holding the syringe just inches from Beom's face. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice dripping with twisted admiration. "You should feel honored. Not many get to experience my personal masterpiece." His grin widened as he tilted his head, studying Beom like a predator savoring its prey.
Beom's jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with fury despite his fear. "You're insane," he spat, his voice hoarse but defiant.
Sasha chuckled, his expression unfazed. "Perhaps," he admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "But that doesn't change your reality, does it?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Beom's ear. "Now, let's see how long you can las, Beom."
The sting of the needle was sharp and cold, its impact reverberating through Beom-ki's body as Sasha pressed the plunger. The dark liquid—Oblivion—pushed into his bloodstream, carrying with it a promise of agony and finality. Beom felt the change almost instantly, a molten heat spreading from his veins to his core. His limbs became unbearably heavy, as though iron weights had been tied to every muscle. Breathing became laborious, the air around him thick and unyielding.