Into The Thrill-Chapter 13.2

It was very late to be calling someone he’d basically just met for the first time today, but since Park Jong-hoon had texted suggesting they meet tomorrow to finalize the contract, Haewon couldn’t delay the call.

“Hello?”

—“Yes, Haewon. Did you get my text?”

“I’m calling because... I don’t think I can accept the offer you made today.”

—“Why all of a sudden? I thought you liked it. Playing with a band is easier than with a symphony. You don’t have to worry about a thing—just play like you usually do.”

His voice showed clear confusion at Haewon’s rejection. There was a clatter of movement, like he’d stood up in a hurry.

“Today’s rehearsal was really great. It was a fresh kind of stimulation. I’m not worried—I just have something that came up.”

—“What came up? If it’s because of the orchestra, I can talk to Myungjun.”

The Myungjun he referred to was the concertmaster of HanKyung Symphony.

“It’s something personal that came up suddenly. It was a great offer, and I’m sorry. I’ll hang up now.”

Before he could say anything else, Haewon ended the call.

He’d already made up his mind. Woojin had taken time off thinking of him, wanting to be with him—how could some concert compare to that?

If there was another opportunity, if it was meant to be, it would happen.

Just because it was good music didn’t mean he had to be a part of it to feel complete. Haewon wasn’t the kind to cling to things once they were out of his hands.

“Who was that?”

He had just ended the call with Park Jong-hoon and was staring at his phone with a faint trace of regret when Woojin, fresh from the shower, asked.

“No one.”

“No one? Then why are you on the phone at this hour?”

He gestured with his eyes at the clock, which read eleven at night.

“You take calls at two or three in the morning. And who was that guy who kept calling you nonstop that morning last time?”

“You know who.”

“I only kept quiet because I know. If it had been someone I didn’t know, I’d have beaten the shit out of him.”

“So who was it?”

“Really, no one. I got an offer for a performance today, and I turned it down.”

“What kind of performance?”

Woojin asked as he rubbed a towel through his wet hair. Haewon sat down on his thighs like they were his rightful seat, naturally taking the towel from Woojin’s hands to dry his hair for him.

Woojin sat back leisurely, eyes fixed on Haewon’s busy movements as he worked between the towel and the curtain of black hair that covered Woojin’s view.

“It was a crossover with a gugak band. Better than I expected. The composer had heard an album I worked on before and said he wanted to do a performance together.”

“When?”

“I ran into him today after my lesson with Professor.”

“You should’ve done it. Sounds fun.”

“I thought so too. But I’d rather go on a trip with you.”

“You’re really going to choose going on a trip with me over your career?”

Woojin pulled Haewon in by the waist, increasing their contact. The intent in his movement was obvious. Haewon chuckled and kept drying his hair.

“I don’t like being in the spotlight. I prefer sitting at the edge of the second violin section.”

“Don’t say that. Do it.”

“The performance is coming up fast. Rehearsals start tomorrow. Then when would we go on the trip? It’s not like you don’t have work.”

“So going on a trip with me is more important than your work?”

Woojin, unable to understand at all, drew Haewon’s gaze from his task. Haewon pulled the towel away and looked at him.

“You’re good. Even someone like me, with no musical ear, can tell your performance is something special.”

“...”

“Don’t throw this away. Call him back. Tell him you’ll do it.”

“...No.”

“Do as I say. You think chances like this come often? You don’t know what the future holds. Call him. Now.”

“It’s my work. I’ll handle it. Don’t interfere.”

“Haewon.”

“You really are an old man—nagging all the time. You’re gonna nag my teeth right out of my mouth.”

Haewon pretended not to notice Woojin’s sigh, frustrated by the lack of understanding, and went back to rubbing his towel over Woojin’s head.

He hadn’t known Woojin cared this much about his career. That Woojin saw him this way, acknowledged him like this.

It made him grateful, and a kind of emotion he’d never felt before welled up inside him.

He felt... comforted. Gently reassured. His eyes grew moist without him meaning to. Afraid Woojin would notice, he kept his gaze away, focusing only on drying his hair. Woojin had taken this time out just for him. He didn’t want to ruin that.

Haewon mattered more. He liked Woojin too much. That was the problem.

“Ah.”

Haewon had pulled too hard, and Woojin’s head jerked sideways. Woojin winced.

“Sorry.”

“You’re unbelievable. If you don’t want to, just say so. Don’t take it out on my hair.”

Haewon draped the towel over his head, pulling it down to cover Woojin’s forehead and eyes. He stared, one feature at a time—the high nose bridge, the philtrum, Woojin’s lips, his firm jawline, the body beneath him bearing his weight. Then Haewon bent forward and kissed Woojin’s lips.

“...I love you.”

He kissed him again, cupping his face half-covered in the towel like a mask. Woojin didn’t respond. Instead, he opened Haewon’s lips and pushed a hot tongue inside.

—

“He’s a professor of instrumental music at the college of music, does modern and classical concerts. Name’s Park Jong-hoon. Age thirty-seven. He’s well known as a crossover composer.”

“Is it true you met him for the first time today?”

—“Yes, it is.”

“Do you normally make offers like that to someone you just met?”

Woojin’s questions weren’t multiple choice. They weren’t directed at the source—more like questions he was asking himself.

He was asking whether it made sense to entrust an important part of a performance that had taken years to prepare to someone you just met.

The source said nothing.

“Thank you for your time.”

Woojin hung up.

The rooftop where he had burned Taeshin’s diary was swept by a chilly wind.

It would’ve been a problem if Haewon had insisted on performing and refused to let it go, but he had reacted exactly the way Woojin had wanted.

The cigarette between his lips curled with a smile.

...

Haewon was a creature made for him.

He was definitely someone who had been prepared in advance—meant for Woojin.

Otherwise, such behavior wouldn’t be possible.

This stubborn little thing, who never listened to reason, would move exactly as Woojin wanted if gently held, handled delicately with minimal effort. He only said what Woojin wanted to hear, only made the expressions Woojin wanted to see.

No matter how hard he worked, it was rare for the world to respond so perfectly to his will. Woojin had learned the limits of control firsthand since childhood, and had long since let go of expectations when it came to people.

But the perfectly controllable existence that was Moon Haewon was astonishing.

Rarely did effort yield such ideal results. Woojin knew from experience—before, and going forward—this kind of prize was one in a million.

He ground out the half-smoked cigarette on the floor and went back down to the officetel.

Haewon was asleep, lying facedown on the bed.

His bare back looked smooth.

Woojin sat down beside him and ran his hand down the line of Haewon’s spine. Haewon, lightly dozing, flinched. Woojin lay down beside him, wrapped his arms around him, and gently pressed Haewon’s back against his chest.

Haewon turned just his face to look at him. After a long stare, he reached out and cradled Woojin’s cheek, pressing their lips together with a soft, ticklish sound.

"Where should we go?"

"Wherever you want."

"Hmm."

Rolling around on the bed, Haewon lay with his head resting on Woojin’s thigh, flipping through his phone. He was diligently searching for flights and hotels. Now that they were actually planning to go, he realized there wasn’t anywhere in particular he wanted to visit. As long as it was somewhere he could be alone with Woojin and have him all to himself, it didn’t matter.

He stopped searching for flights. If something came up and they had to return suddenly, it would be a mess. He also didn’t want a repeat of Bangkok—where Woojin’s attention had been glued to his phone and laptop the whole trip.

"We can go somewhere far."

"What if something comes up and we have to rush back? What if your phone starts burning up?"

"Are you worried about me now? You’re the one who told me to quit."

"You’re sexiest when you’re out there ruining someone. That ruthless, dirty prosecutor mode."

Haewon sat up, straddled Woojin’s thighs, and pushed him back onto the bed.

He unfastened the loosely done buttons and spread open Woojin’s shirt, placing both hands on the man’s chest. He ran his hands along the dense muscles, then traced down his abs to his pubic bone with a firm, deliberate touch.

"What are you doing?"

"You were good. I want to reward you for behaving."

"...Now I’m curious."

Propping himself up halfway on his elbows, Woojin watched Haewon settle between his legs.

Haewon had refused to perform oral sex ever since he’d gotten cut at the corner of his mouth from being forced too deep. Woojin had to suppress the sudden surges of impulse.

But today, unexpectedly, Haewon positioned himself between his legs, undid his belt, and unzipped his pants on his own.

As he lowered the zipper, Haewon lifted his gaze to look at Woojin.

Their eyes met. In Woojin’s eyes was a cloudy, charged anticipation for the obscene act about to happen.

"You really like this, huh? More than my hand?"

"...No. I like your hand better."

"Then should I use my hand instead?"

"Sure."

If he had to choose, Woojin actually preferred Haewon’s hand to his mouth. The raw intensity couldn’t compare to a wet mouth, but Woojin still liked Haewon’s hands better.

Those long, slender fingers that tangled in his hair, dragged across his cheek—every time they touched him, his breath caught and his chest shivered. Haewon’s hands touching him turned him on.

"Liar."

"Then use your mouth. You said I was good today."

"You were good. A work-obsessed man took vacation because of me. It’s not like they pay you more for working that hard."

"I get it, now just do it already."

He was unusually impatient, like he couldn’t wait. He’d made Haewon anticipate it—he wanted his due reward. Haewon smirked at how cute Woojin looked in that moment.

He pulled the zipper all the way down and slid the pants off. Black boxer briefs were revealed. Haewon tugged down the waistband, and Woojin’s already-erect cock sprang up, stiff and ready.

A musky, masculine scent mixed with the faint trace of lotion wafted through the air. Haewon ran his hand through the thick pubic hair around it.

"...Ugh."

He gripped the balls beneath it with a full palm and rubbed them roughly, drawing a pained moan from Woojin’s mouth.

It was so large and veiny, it was hard to believe it was the same kind of thing attached to his own body.

Haewon wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few gentle strokes. The weight of it made it sway slightly up and down. Sticky fluid leaked from the tip, glistening over the head.

"It’s like a rock but so springy. Amazing."

"Shut up."

"It’s hard."

"Hurry up already."

He was driving Woojin crazy. Haewon kept playing around, touching but not doing anything, and Woojin scowled in frustration. Only then did Haewon lower his head. His hair fell forward with him. He parted his lips slightly and flicked out his tongue, licking the wet surface of the head.

Woojin, half-lying down and watching him, ran his fingers through the back of Haewon’s hair, then pushed his head down toward his pelvis. Haewon closed his eyes. It tasted strange. He’d always hated oral sex—then and now.

Usually so composed, so in control above him, Woojin couldn’t suppress the cracks in his breathing whenever Haewon used his mouth.

Even with his usual cold mask, Woojin exerted heavy pressure with his hand, silently urging him to go deeper, harder.

Haewon opened his mouth as wide as it would go and took him in. He wrapped his tongue fully around the shaft and sucked hard. Woojin’s hips jerked and froze.

The air in the officetel quickly grew hot.

The wet sounds of sucking mixed with Woojin’s ragged breaths, making everything hazy. With Woojin pushing down on his head, Haewon had no choice but to take him all the way down, nearly to the back of his throat. The shaft, enveloped by slick membranes, grew even harder. It was so big that his jaw ached.

Unable to contain himself, Woojin grabbed Haewon’s head with both hands and forced it down. Gagging slightly, Haewon pounded his fists against Woojin’s thighs.

Finally, the weight pressing on the back of his head lifted. Haewon pulled the deeply embedded shaft from his throat and coughed, gasping for air, his face flushed red.

"Haah, haah—if it tears again, I’m never doing this again."

"Fine. I won’t touch. Just keep going."

"No. I don’t want to anymore."

Still coughing from the sting in his throat, Haewon wiped his soaked lips on the back of his hand and let go of Woojin’s cock like tossing something away.

Whenever Woojin gripped his hair and forced it in, it felt like being violated—like he was being raped—and it made him feel disgusting. Their relationship had always been mutual—Haewon had never been forcibly used. Woojin had hurt him before, yes, but never through brute force when Haewon truly didn’t want it.

Being physically overpowered made him feel small and afraid, even if it was Woojin—someone he loved.

Woojin’s cock, still standing tall, glistened with fluid in the dim light. Letting out a sigh, Woojin didn’t try to soothe or pressure Haewon. Instead, he reached down and grabbed it himself.

Haewon, who had been deliberately turning away with a sour look, glanced at him. Woojin was stroking himself as if Haewon’s rejection had no effect. Haewon’s gaze trailed from his groin up to Woojin’s face.

"..."

Their eyes met.

Woojin stared at him with that cold, metallic sharpness, like he’d been waiting. His eyes pierced through.

The raw way he stroked his own cock, gripping it tight like it was something dangerous, left Haewon shaken. The look in his eyes—so full of hunger—was chilling.

Motionless, trapped, Haewon sat and watched as Woojin jerked himself off with a soaked hand. His breathing quickened, his hips started to move.

He wasn’t imagining any specific scene. He wasn’t recalling Haewon’s mouth on him from moments ago.

He was just staring at Haewon with terrifying intensity, like he was drawing the pleasure directly from him.

His hand moved faster.

"Hhngh, ahh..."

Woojin’s body shuddered, his expression tensed—and cum spurted from his cock. He groaned like an animal and collapsed backward. His hand slowed, still gliding over the stiff shaft.

"...Haa."

He exhaled heavily. He gently stroked the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) semen-slick shaft, then pulled tissues from the side table to wipe himself clean.

He pulled up the boxer briefs and pants Haewon had lowered earlier, buckled his belt, and picked up the documents he’d been reading before Haewon provoked him.

And without a word, as if none of it had just happened, he got back to work.

Feeling both awkward and a little guilty, Haewon fumbled over and reached toward Woojin’s lap.

Woojin didn’t even look up from the document.

"Hands off."

"You pushed down on my head so hard—it really hurt."

"If you didn’t want to, then don’t. No one forced you."

"I don’t like doing things by force."

"Fine. I was wrong. Now forget it and let go."

Still a little sulky, Haewon lightly grabbed the firm shaft through Woojin’s pants and gave it a flick.

"You can’t just jerk off in front of someone like that. That was embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Who was the one who said no after getting me that hard?"

Woojin tossed the papers down and sat up. Haewon absentmindedly drew patterns on his thigh with a finger.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"That’s because you... You pushed on my head and forced it. That’s why I got mad."

"You can’t even handle that?"

"I don’t want to handle that."

"I’m sorry, but you..."

"..."