无标题

“So?” The Officer smiles at him from above, their bodies still tightly pressed against each other.

“So what? You won this round.” He feels the thick layer of sweat on his body seeping through the tanktop, sticking to the other man’s wet t-shirt, their scents melting into one. The fight is over but neither of them has moved. He will never ask why because there’s no need to. Humans are not made to sustain themselves with no physical contact at all. Only he knows how hard he’s tried to fight it, but certain urges are called instinct for a reason — people long for it, even when it’s laced with pain.

“I did.” The Officer shifts his weight a little but still doesn’t let go.

His heart beats against another warm chest. Once, twice, three times. And now it’s passed the usual amount of time they allow themselves to linger. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

He hates how clever that is, perfectly deflecting the question while being technically true. There’s a tingling sensation on his skin, a rush of warmth on his cheeks. “Ok, get off then.”

“You’re sure? We still have time.”

The weight on him shifts, heavier on his waist and legs and lighter on his chest. He immediately takes a deep breath, and instantly regrets it when he hears how loud it is.

“Time for what?” Ultimately, both of them know the answer, so it’s less of a question, more like a test to see if the other man dares to say it out loud.

The Officer’s eyes glint with a newfound excitement, the tease in his smirk growing into something undeniable. “How about we play a game? Just you and I.”

In-ho watches the other man’s face slowly lower down and move to his side. Suddenly all sensations around his body are concentrated on this one spot on his neck. He feels the hot breath tickling his nerves, a thin layer of moisture making the hairs on his skin stand up.

“Red light means stop. Green light means keep going.” The Officer lightly nudges his collarbone with the tip of his nose. “You call the shots.”

In-ho doesn’t speak, although he knows he should say ‘red light’ now, or better just order the Officer to stop. Don’t even entertain his game. Nothing good will come of it. Yet he stays silent. His mouth slightly parts when a kiss lands on his neck. The lips are soft and slightly dry, a little harsh against the vulnerable spot right above his artery. Then there’s the tip of a tongue, skillfully tracing the shape of the pulsating vein. He closes his eyes and sighs.

He hears a chuckle right on his earlobe. “Green light?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

He grits his teeth. “Green light.”

“Yes, sir.”

The kisses tenderly travel down to his collarbone, leaving a trail of fresh red marks. He briefly wonders if the Frontman uniform’s collar is high enough to cover everything, and then his mind is pulled sharply back to the present by an intense wave of pleasure on his left nipple.

He moans loudly and grabs the other man’s hair, yanking the head up from his chest.

“What, you said green light.” The Officer palms his sweaty abdomen under the tanktop and squeezes his chest, a calloused thumb brushing over the wet nipple.

His body arches up to meet the pressure, yearning for more despite his mind telling him the opposite. A hand tentatively reaches between his legs, pressing on the bulge.

His eyes snap open. The weight of reality suddenly crashes down upon him. He grabs the Officer’s wrist firmly. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?” The Officer gently massages his sensitive parts.

“Stop. Hey!” He pushes against the other man with serious conviction this time. Their eyes meet, and he’s face to face with his own desire. He hardens his resolve. “Red light.”

The Officer stays still, neither following his command nor resisting. He starts counting in his head. He’ll allow five seconds before he attacks.

“Alright, your choice.” The other man sighs around the four second mark.

In-ho watches him get up and quickly gather his things from the floor, a clear resignation in his demeanor. Then he hears the door open and close again, leaving him alone in this large enclosed area.

*

His body refuses to calm down. Even after he gets back to his own quarter, his chest is heaving and his heart races against his ribcage. He leaves a trail of dirty clothes on the floor and steps straight into the shower. He seizes up instinctively as cold water hits the muscles on his back. A chill shoots up from his spine, sending waves of shivers through his entire body.

He looks down. As expected, his desire has shrunken back to normal. It’s simple biology. He allows himself to slowly relax, turning the water to a comfortable temperature. He shampoos his hair half distracted. Warm water mixed with bubbles runs down along his body. But today his skin is strangely perceptive. The smooth sensation feels like thousands of soft fingertips tantalizing his nerves, impossible to ignore.

He looks around pointlessly — of course no one is here because he’s the only one with access to this floor, except Oh Il-nam and the VIPs. But he’ll literally shoot himself in the head if any of them comes into his shower.

Inhaling deeply, he savors the fullness in his lungs, the inevitable suffocation that comes with excess. His left hand reaches down and wraps around himself, already getting hard again. Water plus leftover shampoo aren’t enough to function as lube, but he likes the slightly rough touch. Pain is a form of stimulation too, and it’s been too long since he’s known pleasure without it. He rubs himself back and forth, forehead against the cool ceramic while warm water continues to pour down his back.

In-ho lets his eyes close, and his mind wanders seamlessly into the room downstairs. What is the Officer doing now? He left the training room several minutes earlier, so he should be out of the shower already. Unless he’s doing the same thing.

The thought sends a joint through his body. His fully aroused member jumps in his hand. But no, he doesn’t think the other man would like to take care of this type of business in the shower. He doesn’t know why. It’s just a very strong feeling. The Officer will rush through the shower because it merely serves the function of cleansing. Afterwards, he’ll lie in bed naked and enjoy everything properly.

He’ll use body lotion as lube. A generous amount on his large palm, slowly rubbed along his fully hardened length, coating the dark red flesh in a thick layer of white. His legs are apart, maybe knees slightly pushed up. A half bottle of whiskey on his nightstand and an open box of cigarettes next to it. And his face… what would he look like in bliss? Eyes half lidded without focus, lips parted as scandalous sounds escape from them. Will they sound deep and raw like his usual tone, or softer in this special occasion?

In-ho hears a long groan and only then realizes it’s his own. His rhythm is becoming sloppy, his right hand balling into a fist against the wall. He can feel himself growing agitated but the final release will not come. He makes himself return to his imagination, like hitting the resume button on a paused adult movie. The scene is as voluptuous as earlier, but instead of arousal, he’s consumed in shame. What kind of commander does this? Fantasizing about a soldier for his selfish gratification. He can get out of the shower and go downstairs right now, and the Officer will make all this come true. But that possibility doesn’t entice him.

It terrifies him.

All of a sudden his mind shifts, just when he’s about to give up and turn off the water. The entire scene goes dark like he just remotely turned off the light in the Officer’s room. When it comes back on, it’s much dimmer. Not in a bad way like a low quality movie, but more intimate, like a secret he stumbles upon rather than a pornographic setup. It’s the inside of a limo: leather seats, bottles of expensive champagne and the golden piggy bank. It should be his limo now, but not in this scene. His hands are tied up behind his back and his body feels boneless.

“Player 132.”

He snaps to look towards his left. A pink soldier wearing a square mask is leaning casually on the other side.

“It’s you.” The truth is he doesn’t know who’s behind the mask besides a number. “Number 7.”

“Yes. Don’t you miss me? It’s been a while.”

Number 7 closes their distance. He struggles to move away but none of his muscles work under whatever drug they gave him earlier.

“Don’t run.” The soldier holds his chin up. “I’m giving you what you want.”

“Wha…”

He doesn’t finish the question, because the next second, a gloved hand reaches between his legs and grabs him roughly. He screams out in pain, both his body and mind frozen in shock. The soldier chuckles, a familiar sound but he can’t think as the other man relentlessly gropes him. He throws his head back and desperately tries to twist his hands free, the rope leaving rings of red marks on his wrist.

“Stop fighting and enjoy it.”

The irrefutable command sends his body over the edge. His heart skips a beat, his back arches, his vision going blank along with the vivid imagination. His throat makes an awkward, primal sound as he spills hot fluid all over the shower wall.

The water is still warm, but all he feels is a bone deep chill.

*

A week later, In-ho stands over 456 players in the control room. After the first game, the light will go out for more than half of them.

“Preparations are ready.”

He looks at the Officer. “Begin.”

The other man gives him a polite nod and pushes a button on the panel. The broadcast starts to explain rules to the players. Same recording every year. He can recite the whole thing without missing a word. He turns to leave, and as he walks past the Officer, he extends a hand and lightly brushes against the other man’s arm. It lasts less than a second, the touch barely there at all. Other people in the room surely won’t notice with their eyes fixed on the screen. But the Officer never needed anything more than a mere hint.

He watches the game on his couch over a glass of whiskey as usual. Five minutes later, he receives a request to enter the top floor.

The Officer takes off his mask as soon as the elevator door opens, not bothering to hide the smug look on his face. “So? Green light this time?”

“Green light, and do not ask me again.”