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The scent of dry canvas and expensive solvents was usually the only thing that kept Park Sunghoon sane. At twenty-three, he worked as an assistant curator for the J.H. Gallery, a position that sounded far more glamorous than it felt.

In reality, it was eight hours of meticulous paperwork, four hours of fending off entitled patrons, and a constant, low-level thrum of anxiety about money.

He was, by all appearances, perfectly composed. His tailored trousers were always sharp, his dark hair was styled with effortless precision, and his jawline could still cut glass. Sunghoon carried the residual elegance of a professional figure skater—a graceful poise that disguised the frantic internal calculus of rent, utility bills, and the cost of the single, slightly wilted latte that was his daily luxury.

Tonight, however, the composure was fracturing.

He stood in his cramped, overly expensive apartment, staring at an eviction notice printed in aggressive, unyielding black ink. The gallery’s last quarter had been disastrously slow, leading to sudden, unannounced cuts across all junior salaries. Sunghoon had been floating on credit and pure willpower for six weeks, and now the water was rising too fast.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Jake said, leaning against the doorframe of the tiny kitchen. Jake, along with Heeseung, Jay, Jungwon, and Sunoo—the rest of their inseparable high school crew—had migrated to Seoul with Sunghoon. They were his family now, the only solid ground he had left.

Sunghoon crumpled the notice. It felt thin and cheap, utterly disproportionate to the weight of the disaster it represented.

“Worse. I saw my checking account balance.”

“Still bad?” Jake’s face softened with immediate concern. He pushed off the frame and walked closer, his expression mirroring the collective anxiety the group carried for one another.

“Bad enough that the only thing separating me from a cardboard box is two weeks’ worth of ramen and a prayer.” Sunghoon ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up for the first time all day. The gesture felt aggressive, a sudden act of internal violence.

“I can’t ask Mom again. She’s already struggling. And I already owe Heeseung for the cab fare last month.”

Heeseung, who had been sitting on the worn velvet couch—a gift from Sunoo’s grandmother—pushed himself up.

“Don’t even think about that. We can pool something, Hoon. Seriously. We’re family. Jay and I just got our bonuses, and Jungwon is working his ass off like crazy.”

“No,” Sunghoon said, the word coming out too quickly and too sharply. His pride, sharp and brittle, was the last thing he had to protect. The truth was, his friends were also just starting their careers; they were supporting him emotionally, but he couldn’t take their limited savings.

“I appreciate it, but I’m tired of borrowing. I’m tired of feeling like a charity case just because I decided I needed to work in an industry that pays less than being a barista.” He sighed, the frustration pulling at his shoulders.

“I need a solution, not a band-aid. I need something drastically, impossibly cheap, in a neighborhood where I won’t get stabbed.”

Jungwon, who had been quietly scrolling through housing apps on his phone, frowned. “The problem is, ‘drastically cheap’ means an hour commute, or it means sharing a place with three strangers. You need to be close to the gallery.”

“I know! That’s why I’m stuck!” Sunghoon threw his hands up, instantly regretting the dramatic gesture. He hated losing control. “I just need a landlord who is blind, deaf, and doesn't believe in security deposits.”

The silence that followed was heavy with shared worry and the palpable, low-grade fear of failure that haunted every young professional in Seoul. Living here, trying to maintain an acceptable level of sophistication while constantly teetering on the financial edge, was exhausting.

It was Jay who eventually broke the silence. He stood up from the armchair and walked over to the mini-fridge, pulling out a half-finished bottle of sparkling water.

“Call Choi Soobin.”

Sunghoon blinked. He stared at Jay as if he’d just suggested they take up skydiving. “Soobin? Why?”

Jay uncapped the bottle and took a slow, deliberate drink.

“He’s connected. That guy knows everyone who owns property in the city. He’s running some kind of real estate adjacent start-up now, right? He doesn't deal with the small stuff, but he knows people who do. He knows the quiet, undocumented deals.”

Heeseung nodded slowly. “Jay’s right. Soobin has weird reach. What’s the worst he can say? No?”

Sunghoon hesitated. He hadn't talked to Soobin in ages.

“I don’t know…” Sunghoon hedged, his voice thin. “It feels like a massive favor to ask.”

Jake put a reassuring hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Hoon, you are literally looking at a black-and-white threat to your immediate survival. Swallow your pride for five minutes and call the man who can help you. Do it right now. Before you convince yourself otherwise.”

Sunghoon looked from Jake’s determined face to the crumpled eviction notice in his hand. Survival required swallowing the bitterest pills.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Soobin’s contact.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if he asks me to join a pyramid scheme, I’m blaming all of you.”

Soobin was a mutual friend, a kind, slightly chaotic figure they had all met a year after high school graduation, bridging the gap between their group and a few others. Soobin knew their present, but mercifully, he knew nothing of their past, which suited Sunghoon just fine.

The topic of Ni-ki had become a silent, six-year-long scar. Heeseung, Jake, Jay, Jungwon, and Sunoo were all keenly aware that mentioning their youngest friend was forbidden, and after the initial efforts to keep in touch with him faded, they all tacitly agreed to let the relationship—and the memory of the young man—go. The wound was not healed, merely suppressed.

The breakup had been Sunghoon’s decision.

He was seventeen, Riki was fifteen. They were a study in contradictions even then. Sunghoon, all sharp lines and delicate features, was physically smaller than most of his male peers but carried the confidence and maturity of an older boy, bolstered by his skating discipline.

Riki, while tall for his age, was still gangly, sweet, and possessed a devastatingly cute face—the kind that made people want to pinch his cheeks. Everyone, including Riki, had assumed Sunghoon was the big spoonin their relationship. Sunghoon certainly acted the part, taking Riki's hand in public, guiding him, and always being the one who initiated.

But Riki’s need, his young, overwhelming passion, had terrified Sunghoon. Riki had quickly become clingy, dependent, and utterly consuming. Sunghoon, staring down the barrel of college admissions and a demanding schedule, felt himself drowning under the weight of Riki's devotion.

The final words were simple, cruel, and cowardly, delivered a month before Riki was due to fly back to Japan temporarily with his family: “You’re too much, Riki. I need space to breathe. We should end this.”

The image of Riki’s wide, tear-filled eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, and the complete silence he offered in response—that was the memory that had made Sunghoon sever every single link.

He deleted the photos, blocked the numbers, and instructed his friends to do the same, citing the pain was too much to bear. It was easier to cut the cancer out completely than to live with the phantom ache.

It was a cold, pragmatic decision, and Sunghoon had lived with the guilt ever since, cloaking it in the elegance of his curated life.

Sunghoon hesitated for an hour, the eviction notice a lump in his pocket. He paced his small living room, the weight of the situation finally crushing his resistance. Finally, he called Soobin.

Soobin was immediately sympathetic, his voice warm and non-judgmental through the phone speaker.

“Classic Seoul. You’d think the arts would be less brutal. Don’t worry, Hoon. Let me think. I know some people in the low-key rental game.”

Sunghoon paced his small living room while the receiver was on mute, listening to the muffled sounds of Soobin talking to someone else in the background.

Every nerve ending felt tight. 

After five minutes, Soobin was back, sounding energized, almost giddy.

“Okay, I have a something, but you have to promise to be flexible on the details. This isn’t a normal lease, okay? It’s a huge unit in Gangnam, a luxury loft, honestly. Prime location, the whole deal. My friend, his name is Riki, he’s a model, and he’s almost never in town. Like, seriously, he’s away three weeks out of every month, sometimes longer, for shoots overseas. He mostly uses the place as a massive closet and a base for his visa.”

Sunghoon’s internal alarm bells should have rung at the name, but Riki wasn't an uncommon name, well maybe not that uncommon given they’re in Seoul but still.. And Sunghoon knows Soobin, so surely he would know if it’s that Riki, right? 

Sunghoon was too focused on the words luxury loft and cheap. His mind, focused solely on the financial black hole, skimmed over the details. A model. Overseas. Gangnam. 

“How cheap?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low, a thin rasp of desperate hope.

“Dirt cheap. We’re talking about just covering utility costs and a nominal fee for occupying the space. He just needs someone responsible to keep the place occupied and handle basic logistics—throwing the trash, making sure the lights don’t get shut off, that kind of thing. He offered it to me first, but I'm moving in with Yeonjun next month, so I can’t take it. Look, it’s about a third of what you’re paying now. A literal third, Hoon. No security deposit, non-negotiable, first-come, first-served. It’s an insane deal.”

A third of the price. That wasn't just survival; that was a reprieve. It was breathing room. It was enough to stop the frantic, desperate scramble and actually focus on his career again. The shame of being financially rescued was instantly outweighed by the sheer relief of solvency.

“I’ll take it,” Sunghoon said, without a second’s hesitation. The pride dissolved under the pressure of necessity. “What do I need to do?”

“Just show up. I told him your situation—that you're clean, quiet, and work in the arts. He’s a total pro, very straightforward. He’ll meet you there tomorrow afternoon to give you the key and the tour. He’s flying out again the day after, so you’ll basically have the place to yourself for a while. It’s the perfect situation.”

Perfect. Sunghoon repeated the word to himself, a mantra against the rising tide of his financial fear. The relief was so intense it made him physically tremble. He had been given a lifeline, a random act of fate delivered by a tangential friend. He didn't care about the name, the vague title of 'model,' or the luxury address. He cared only about the number: one-third the cost.

I just need to sign the papers, get the key, and then he’s gone. It’ll be fine.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The next day, Sunghoon was a whirlwind of motion. He didn’t tell his friends about the address, simply saying he’d found a "temporary space" and would call them once he was settled. He couldn't face the questions about how he’d pulled off a move this fast.

The building itself was intimidating. A glass tower in the heart of Gangnam, flanked by high-end boutiques and exclusive cafés. The lobby was all marble and brushed steel. Sunghoon felt utterly out of place, a beggar in a ball gown.

He took the express elevator up, his single, heavy suitcase—containing the only things he truly valued—bumping softly against the stainless steel wall. The elevator music was classical and soothing, doing nothing to calm his nerves. This wasn't just a downgrade in rent; it was a profound upgrade in lifestyle, one he was only barely affording by leveraging a friend's generosity.

He reached the floor and walked down the silent, carpeted hallway. Unit 1704.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, fixed his jacket, and raised his hand to knock.

The door opened almost instantly, before his knuckles could connect with the wood.

And Sunghoon froze.

The man standing in the doorway was a stranger, yet intimately familiar, a terrifying fusion of the past and a brutal, intimidating present.

The face was the same structure, but everything else was fundamentally, overwhelmingly changed. This man was not the slightly awkward, easily flustered fifteen-year-old Sunghoon had once dominated with a soft kiss.

This man was a force.

He was significantly taller than Sunghoon, perhaps six feet, his frame broadened with dense, powerful muscle, expertly conditioned for the runway and the camera. The movement of his arm as he held the door open was fluid and strong, hinting at the hours of dedicated physical upkeep required for his career. His shoulders were wide, his chest deep, and his jawline was sculpted, giving him a dangerous, intense masculinity. His hair was dyed a startling, glossy black, cut in a contemporary style that only emphasized his now-sharp features.

And his eyes. They weren't the bright, earnest eyes of the boy who looked up at Sunghoon in adoration. These eyes were hooded, dark, and utterly self-possessed, radiating a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. They were the eyes of a man who knew exactly what he was capable of, both on and off the camera.

There was a moment of silence that stretched into an eternity, filled only by the distant sounds of city traffic. Sunghoon’s mind screamed the name, recognizing the ghost in the machine, the boy transformed into a terrifying, beautiful specter.

Riki.

Nishimura Riki. His Riki.

The shock was a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. The years melted away, replaced by the terrifying realization that the small, pliable partner he had discarded had somehow grown into a massive, intimidating figure of utter dominance. The power dynamic, which had been subtle six years ago, was now a blatant, insurmountable physical reality.

Ni-ki didn't react with shock. There was a flicker of something—not pain, not happiness, but a cold, calculating recognition—that vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same bored professionalism he had adopted over the phone with Soobin.

“You must be Park Sunghoon-ssi,” Ni-ki said, his voice deeper, rougher, and far more resonant than Sunghoon remembered, a low baritone that sent a tremor down Sunghoon's spine. The formal honorific felt like a knife-twist, confirming their new, impersonal distance.

Sunghoon could only manage a slow, shaky nod.

Ni-ki stepped back, opening the door wider to reveal the sleek, expansive loft apartment—a monument to his success, and a cruel reflection of Sunghoon’s current failure.

“Welcome,” Ni-ki said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was a smile of pure, unsettling victory. “I’m Riki. Come in. Let me show you your room.”

He hadn't mentioned their past. He hadn't acknowledged their history. He was playing the landlord, the successful, imposing figure who held all the power, and Sunghoon was nothing but a desperate tenant in his space. Sunghoon swallowed, his throat dry. He knew, in that instant, that this was going to be the longest and most volatile six months of his life.

Sunghoon stepped across the threshold, feeling as though he were walking into a cage. The apartment was exactly what the exterior promised: high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city, and a stark, minimalist aesthetic that screamed "expensive and uninhabited."

His luggage felt heavy and cheap against the polished concrete floor.

"The unit is split-level," Ni-ki explained, gesturing with a negligent flick of his hand. He was wearing loose, expensive-looking track bottoms and a simple shirt, yet he looked like he belonged on a billboard. "My room, the master suite, is up there." He pointed toward an elevated section of the loft accessible by a floating steel staircase. "It has its own bathroom and a secured walk-in closet for my work clothes. That space is off-limits. You won't have access to it."

The exclusion was not just practical; it was a clear declaration of territory and superiority.

"Your room is back here," Ni-ki continued, leading Sunghoon toward a recessed corner on the main floor. "It’s significantly smaller, but the rent reflects that. You’ll be sharing the guest bathroom," he paused, his eyes sweeping over Sunghoon's face with that same cold, measuring gaze. "It's the one by the kitchen."

Sunghoon forced himself to focus on the details, trying to anchor himself in the transactional nature of the situation rather than the dizzying reality of who stood beside him. "The kitchen and living area are shared, correct?"

"Yes. Use them. I'm rarely here," Ni-ki confirmed. "But," he stopped, turning to face Sunghoon fully. The difference in their heights was profound, forcing Sunghoon to tilt his head back slightly, a posture that immediately felt subordinate. Ni-ki used his body expertly, leaning just slightly into Sunghoon's personal bubble.

"I need quiet. I'm jet-lagged often, and my agency requires strict recovery. If you have guests, they stay in your room, and they leave by eleven. No exceptions. And no parties. This is a residence, not a common area."

"Understood," Sunghoon replied, his voice thin. He hated that his composure was failing, hated the way his old instincts were reacting to this new, imposing version of Riki.

The tour finished quickly. Ni-ki handed him a heavy magnetic keycard. "Rent is due on the first. Wire it to the account details I emailed to Soobin. We don't need to interact further unless there's a serious maintenance issue."

He was dismissing him. Treating him like hired help. Sunghoon felt a spark of the old pride—the pride that had allowed him to walk away six years ago.

"Thank you, Riki-ssi," Sunghoon said, focusing on the ceiling fan instead of the man. "I'll ensure I adhere to the terms."

Ni-ki didn't move for a beat. He simply watched Sunghoon, an almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes. "Good."

And with that, Ni-ki ascended the steel staircase, leaving Sunghoon alone on the ground floor, surrounded by the cold, expensive air of the apartment.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The following day, Ni-ki left before dawn for a flight, just as promised. Sunghoon didn't see him go, only finding a note on the counter listing Wi-Fi codes and garbage schedules—formal, impersonal, signed simply Riki.

Sunghoon spent the next three weeks immersed in the surreal luxury of the empty apartment. He brought in his few possessions: his books, his work laptop, and the handful of personal items that represented his current, respectable life.

But no matter how clean or quiet he was, the apartment was a constant, unsettling reminder of his failure and Ni-ki’s success. The sheer cost of the space was oppressive. Occasionally, an assistant or courier would deliver a box—high-end clothing, new camera equipment, or a personalized skincare package—all addressed to "Nishimura Riki, Model." His portfolio, a heavy, leather-bound volume, lay casually on the coffee table, daring Sunghoon to look at the images of his ex-lover staring out with that same, intense, vacant confidence.

Sunghoon slowly started to relax, sinking into the quiet routine. He worked late, came home, and often ate dinner alone in the vast kitchen. He even dared to use the sleek, stainless steel appliances, feeling like an intruder in a magazine spread.

Then, Ni-ki came home.

He returned late one Tuesday evening, smelling faintly of stale airplane air and expensive cologne. Sunghoon was in the kitchen, reading a book while nursing a glass of water.

The silence of the loft amplified every sound of Ni-ki's arrival—the thump of his hard-sided luggage, the smooth zip of his travel bag, the heavy, deliberate cadence of his footsteps.

Ni-ki barely looked at Sunghoon. He dropped his bags near the staircase. "I'm back for three days. Agency schedule," he announced, his voice devoid of any warmth, treating Sunghoon as little more than furniture.

He headed straight to the refrigerator, pulling out a protein shake. He was wearing a fitted grey crewneck that clung to his shoulders and torso, highlighting the devastating change in his physique. Sunghoon found himself staring, utterly mesmerized by the sheer volume of his body, the sculpted lines that were now his livelihood.

The rest of the night was agonizing. Ni-ki worked out noisily in the small home gym area—a luxury Sunghoon hadn't even realized existed until now. The sight of Ni-ki’s broad, sweating back, the concentration etched on his sharp profile, was painfully distracting. Sunghoon retreated to his room, locking the door for the first time since he moved in, feeling a desperate need for a barrier between himself and the man who now commanded the space.

The next day, the tension ratcheted up further. Ni-ki seemed to intentionally occupy the shared space, claiming it with his sheer physical presence. He used the kitchen counter to sort through professional photos, glossy prints of himself looking impossibly handsome and cold, taken in exotic locations. He left half-used containers of protein powder and his massive gym bag in the living area, forcing Sunghoon to navigate around his belongings.

Sunghoon felt the old possessiveness flare—the need to restore order, to remind the younger man of propriety. But he held his tongue, bound by the contract and his financial need. He was the tenant, Ni-ki was the lord.

The second night of Ni-ki's stay brought the first deliberate, physical escalation.

Sunghoon was in the kitchen, preparing a quick, solitary dinner: instant ramen, dressed up with an egg and some leftover scallions. He stood facing the stovetop, entirely focused on his frugal meal.

Ni-ki entered the kitchen without a sound, his movements carrying that predatory grace he'd honed over the years—silent and deliberate, like a shadow closing in. Sunghoon had no warning until a large, enveloping shadow fell over him, blocking out the overhead light.

Ni-ki needed a specific type of herbal tea—a premium brand he swore by for de-bloating before photoshoots—which was stored on the highest shelf in the cabinet directly above the stove. Sunghoon heard the low, rough cadence of Ni-ki's breath hot against the nape of his neck, so close it raised goosebumps along his skin. Before Sunghoon could step aside or even react, Ni-ki leaned forward, pressing his imposing chest and broad shoulders firmly against Sunghoon's back.

It wasn't a mere brush or accidental graze. Ni-ki pressed in with unmistakable intent—hard, immediate, and utterly invasive. Sunghoon found himself pinned against the cool edge of the stovetop counter by the sheer, unyielding mass of Ni-ki's body. His spine bowed involuntarily under the weight, his chest compressing slightly against the metal as Ni-ki's heat seeped through both their shirts.

To reach the tin of tea tucked into the far corner of the high cabinet, Ni-ki extended his long arm upward, which only leveraged his body more aggressively downward onto Sunghoon. The solid, muscular plane of Ni-ki's abdomen and pelvis ground deliberately into the small of Sunghoon's back, the defined ridges of his abs and the firm bulge of his hips making direct, lingering contact. Sunghoon could feel it all: the chiseled hardness of Ni-ki, the radiating body heat that bordered on scorching, and the implicit, overwhelming surge of raw male power in that press. He was trapped completely, sandwiched between the unmovable counter and this evolved, dangerous version of his ex-boyfriend—vulnerable, exposed, with his back arched just enough to accentuate the curve of his spine.

It was sexual aggression masked as everyday necessity, a power play delivered through physical dominance.

Sunghoon's breath hitched sharply, caught in that hazy space between a startled gasp and a suppressed moan. He couldn't move an inch, every nerve ending alight and screaming with the intensity of the invasion. The scent of Ni-ki's expensive cologne—woody and sharp—mingled with the fresh, salty tang of sweat from his recent workout, overwhelming Sunghoon's senses and stirring unwelcome flickers of memory and heat low in his belly.

The contact stretched on for four agonizing seconds, each one feeling eternal as Ni-ki's body molded against his. Finally, Ni-ki's fingers closed around the tin of tea, and he pulled back with smooth, controlled ease, his body gliding away as if the entire encounter had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Excuse me," Ni-ki murmured, his voice low, flat, and completely devoid of apology. He kept his gaze fixed on the tea tin in his hand, avoiding Sunghoon's eyes entirely.

Sunghoon's heart hammered wildly against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed in his ears. His hands, white-knuckled around the handle of the ramen pot, trembled visibly, nearly sloshing the contents. He could still feel the phantom imprint of that pressure on his lower back—the heat, the grind, the deliberate claim. Forcing himself to turn slowly, he met Ni-ki's eyes for just a fraction of a second, searching for any sign of remorse.

There it was: a subtle, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Ni-ki's mouth. A ghost of a smirk, laced with satisfaction and something deeply knowing, like he'd just tested a boundary and found it delightfully pliable.

"Thank you," Sunghoon managed, the lie tasting like ash. He was thanking the man who had just assaulted his personal space and weaponized his body against him.

Ni-ki gave a noncommittal hum and walked toward the master suite stairs, leaving Sunghoon alone with his suddenly boiling water and his furiously rising shame and desire. He knew the touch hadn't been an accident. Ni-ki was sending a very clear message: I own this space, and I can touch you whenever and however I please.

Sunghoon did not eat his ramen that night. He spent the rest of the evening fighting the desperate, humiliating urge to seek out Ni-ki, to confront him, to see just how far the power reversal went. Instead, he retreated, burying himself under the covers, listening to the muffled sounds of the successful model settling into his elevated, private sanctuary.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Ni-ki left the next morning, but the apartment felt charged with his lingering presence. The sleek, modern design that had initially offered Sunghoon a lifeline now felt like a gilded cage built by his past lover. Sunghoon's initial shame quickly morphed into simmering anger. He hated the way Ni-ki was making him feel—small, subordinate, and desperate. Every clean line of the architecture was a testament to Ni-ki's success and Sunghoon's failure.

The anger was amplified when, three weeks later, Ni-ki returned for a brief layover, but this time, he wasn't alone.

Sunghoon was scrolling through work emails, trying to draft a politely assertive response to an entitled collector, when the main door opened.

"Just leave the bags here, it’s fine. I’ll send for them later," Ni-ki’s voice echoed in the cavernous space. It was the same rich, deep baritone, but now it was coated in the casual warmth he reserved for company.

He walked in with a tall, stunningly attractive man—a fellow model, perhaps, judging by his lean build, sculpted cheekbones, and the expensive scent that trailed him. The guest was laughing, his hand resting casually on the small of Ni-ki’s back, a proprietary touch that made Sunghoon’s stomach clench.

"This is Jungmo," Ni-ki said, glancing briefly at Sunghoon, who had instinctively stood up, hands clenched at his sides by the small dining table. "He's crashing here tonight before his Busan shoot."

Ni-ki offered no introduction of Sunghoon, treating him as part of the apartment's existing décor—a fixture, like the overly complicated espresso machine or the stack of fashion magazines. Sunghoon felt a rush of white-hot resentment. He was invisible, a necessary utility, while this stranger was receiving Ni-ki's charming, slightly smug attention.

All evening, Ni-ki and Jungmo occupied the shared living space, making Sunghoon feel like the interloper. They spoke in low tones, occasionally bursting into laughter over industry anecdotes Sunghoon couldn't comprehend. Ni-ki was completely relaxed, lounging on the massive Italian leather sofa, his arm draped along the back, his powerful thigh resting against Jungmo’s.

Sunghoon watched, pretending to be engrossed in a catalogue of Flemish painting, his blood pressure steadily rising. He hated the easy intimacy, the way Jungmo openly admired Ni-ki's portfolio pictures on his tablet, the shared glances that screamed sexual possibility.

"You're lucky to have this space, Riki," Jungmo murmured, running his hand over the expensive leather of the couch, his fingers lingering near Ni-ki’s back. "It's so private. Perfect for... relaxing. I hate hotel rooms."

Ni-ki just smiled, a small, knowing upturn of his lips, glancing pointedly at Sunghoon across the open space before addressing Jungmo: "It serves its purpose. I prefer to keep my private life separate from the noise. I don’t like distractions when I’m trying to settle in."

The implication was clear: Sunghoon was the noise, the boring, necessary annoyance keeping his lease cheap. The subtle cruelty of using a guest to assert his dominance in his own home was a calculated move Sunghoon immediately recognized as punishment.

Sunghoon couldn't take it anymore. The thick, sweet smell of Jungmo's cologne and the sound of Ni-ki's genuine laughter felt like physical assaults. He slammed the catalogue shut with more force than necessary and stood up abruptly. "I'm going out."

Ni-ki’s eyes finally slid over to him, sharp and assessing, but the movement was minimal. “Okay,” Ni-ki replied, without any inflection, his focus immediately returning to Jungmo. The dismissal was brutal. "Don't worry about the noise when you come back. We're early sleepers."

Sunghoon didn't dignify that with a response. He snatched his keys and left, the metallic clang of the door shutting echoing in the sudden silence behind him. He walked aimlessly for three hours, the cold Seoul night doing little to soothe the hot, acidic jealousy churning in his stomach.

He didn't return until after midnight. The living area was silent, bathed in the soft, diffused light of the city below. Ni-ki's door, which led to the master suite on the mezzanine level above, was slightly ajar, a sliver of light illuminating the floating staircase.

He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, his body humming with frustrated, anxious energy. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of unfamiliar cologne and something sharper, muskier, and undeniably sexual. He could hear the faint, low rumble of voices, quickly cut off.

As he approached his own room on the ground floor, preparing to retreat, he heard it—a low, throaty moan drift down from the master suite. It was quiet, quickly muffled, almost a grunt of surprise, but undeniably intimate and raw.

Sunghoon froze, his heart hammering in his chest, the glass shaking slightly in his hand. Then, the rhythmic creak: a slow, heavy pulse of the expensive bed frame above.

The realization that Ni-ki was sleeping with someone—in this apartment, in the master suite that overlooked the entire space, after all these years of agonizing silence—was a physical punch to the gut. The old possessiveness, the childish jealousy he thought he'd outgrown, came flooding back, thick and choking.

He didn't know which was worse: the muffled sound of Ni-ki's pleasure, or the bitter knowledge that Ni-ki had moved on to a type of confident, successful partner that Sunghoon, in his current state, could never be. Ni-ki wasn't just bigger and richer; he was happier and sexually satisfied, while Sunghoon was paralyzed by the past, his dignity pinned down by a low rental rate.

Sunghoon retreated to his room and lay wide awake, listening to the agonizing silence, feeling the powerful, abstract presence of Ni-ki's body looming above him, dominating the vertical space of the loft, dominating his every thought. The territorial mark had been made, and Sunghoon felt the sting of it deep in his chest.

The next morning, Jungmo was gone, but the territorial scent of another man lingered in the air. Ni-ki was in the kitchen, making coffee, looking effortlessly flawless in his expensive clothes.

Sunghoon stared at the discarded coffee cup on the counter—a clear message that someone else had shared the morning. He needed to reassert his existence. He needed to prove he wasn't just a ghost in Ni-ki's luxury closet.

He called Sunoo, one of his closest friends, and forced a casual, bright tone. "Hey, I just moved into a loft downtown. You have to come see it. Bring Jungwon, too. We can get drinks and come back here."

Sunoo was thrilled, making plans for that Friday evening.

When Sunghoon returned home from the gallery on Friday, he found Ni-ki had just landed and was in a foul mood—jet-lagged, tired, and scowling. He was standing in the cavernous, gleaming kitchen, pouring himself a bottle of imported mineral water. Perfect.

Sunghoon’s heart was pounding, a desperate, dangerous excitement blooming in his chest. He was tired of being the invisible utility. He needed to push back.

"I have two guests coming over tonight," Sunghoon announced, leaning against the counter, deliberately invading the edge of Ni-ki’s personal space. He met Ni-ki's gaze directly, his posture rigid. "Sunoo and Jungwon. They'll be gone by eleven, as per the rules."

Ni-ki stopped peeling a banana, his dark eyes narrowing. He was wearing an expensive black silk robe over his sleepwear, a look that was both luxurious and casually intimidating. "Guests?" The single word was laced with ice.

"Yes. Friends of mine. We're celebrating my move. I'll keep the noise level low." Sunghoon forced himself to remain steady, despite the way Ni-ki’s proximity made his skin prickle with awareness.

Ni-ki slowly ate the banana, chewing deliberately, savoring the moment, his stare unwavering. He was communicating disapproval through sheer, muscular silence, forcing Sunghoon to stand there and absorb the quiet hostility.

"Just make sure they stick to your room," Ni-ki finally said, his voice low and dangerous, a predatory purr. "And I mean in your room. I don't appreciate strangers in my space."

"They're not strangers," Sunghoon retorted, unable to resist fanning the flames. "They're my friends. They're part of the same group you used to be in."

Ni-ki threw the banana peel with practiced ease into the recycling bin, the small sound echoing loudly. He stepped closer, crowding Sunghoon against the counter, using his considerable height to make Sunghoon feel physically pressed down. "They are strangers to me, Sunghoon-ssi," Ni-ki corrected, using the formal address like a sharp, cold weapon. "The lease agreement is very clear. Don't test the boundaries."

The warning was heavy, thick with sexual implication, a challenge wrapped in a threat. It thrilled Sunghoon, a desperate, dangerous excitement. He was finally engaging. He can’t kick me out for having a glass of wine with my friends,Sunghoon told himself. He just wants me to submit.

Sunghoon’s friends arrived at 7 PM. They were instantly awed by the sheer size and luxury of the apartment, a fact that momentarily soothed Sunghoon's wounded pride.

"Sunghoon, how are you affording this? Did you rob a bank?" Sunoo whispered, his eyes wide as he took in the panoramic view of the Seoul skyline.

"Soobin's friend is an angel," Sunghoon simply said, guiding them quickly to his small, neat room—a comfortable but clearly subordinate space compared to the rest of the loft.

They settled in, laughing loudly, sharing wine and gossip. Sunghoon felt a temporary relief, a sense of belonging that the cold, impersonal elegance of the loft lacked. He relaxed, letting the warm comfort of his old friendships smooth over the edges of his paranoia.

Around 9 PM, they ran out of the Merlot Sunoo had brought and decided to get more wine from the kitchen. Jungwon volunteered to go, but Sunghoon, emboldened by the wine, decided to lead the expedition. He wanted Ni-ki to hear their easy enjoyment.

As they entered the vast living area, the laughter died in their throats.

Ni-ki was there.

He was lounging on the sofa, not working out, not reading, just waiting. He had changed from the silk robe into simple, black sweatpants and a fitted black tank top, his arms exposed, highlighting the impressive curve of his biceps and the defined V of his torso. He had the architectural track lighting dimmed to a sensual, low glow, making the atmosphere look intentional, cinematic, and deeply threatening. He was utterly relaxed, yet coiled with tension.

Sunghoon's friends, who hadn't seen Ni-ki since high school—and only briefly, since he was the youngest and peripheral to their group—were stunned into silence by the transformation. The "cute Riki" was nowhere in sight.

"Oh," Jungwon managed, surprised and slightly intimidated by the sheer scale of the man before them. "Riki... is that you?!"

Ni-ki slowly sat up, unfolding his long, powerful limbs, taking his time, making the process of simply standing into a performance of strength. His eyes, cold and dark, swept over Sunghoon's friends, dismissing them instantly, then settled on Sunghoon with a calculated weight.

"Hello," Ni-ki said, his tone flat, entirely indifferent. There was no warmth, no recognition of history, just the acknowledgment of two insignificant interruptions.

Sunoo, ever the friendly one, tried to bridge the awkward gap. He stepped forward with a bright, nervous smile. "Wow, Riki! You're huge! You look amazing. We haven't seen you since high school. We were just getting wine, sorry to bother—"

"Don't bother," Ni-ki interrupted, his voice dropping slightly, cutting through Sunoo's explanation with effortless authority. He stood up fully, his entire frame radiating immense physical power, making himself a physical monument to Sunghoon’s mistake. "The room is for sleeping, not socialising. You are currently occupying my main living space, which is not included in the rent agreement. Please keep your voices down, or I will ask you to leave."

The sudden coldness and immense physical presence of the man silenced the room. Sunghoon's friends, sensing the heavy, hostile tension radiating off Ni-ki, immediately backed away, instinctively retreating toward the hallway. They were used to Sunghoon being the cool, dominant one in any social situation. Seeing him cower, even subtly, under the gaze of his terrifying roommate was unsettling.

"We should go back to my place," Jungwon whispered urgently to Sunoo. "The atmosphere is a little... intense."

Sunghoon felt the color rise in his face, hot and stinging. Ni-ki hadn't just enforced a rule; he had humiliated him in front of his closest friends. The counter-move had failed, turning into a public demonstration of Ni-ki's absolute control over him and his space. Sunghoon was suddenly furious, the anger burning away the last vestiges of his fear.

"Riki," Sunghoon began, stepping forward, his voice tight with humiliation.

Ni-ki finally moved, taking two slow, deliberate steps toward Sunghoon. He stopped when he was inches away, forcing Sunghoon to look up into his dark, furious eyes.

"It's eleven-thirty, Sunghoon-ssi," Ni-ki stated, his voice a low growl only Sunghoon could hear. "Your friends need to leave."

He was using the rules as a pretext for a power play. Sunghoon was trapped, forced to comply. The rage and the intoxicating fear blended together, tightening a knot of desperate desire deep in his core.

"We were just finishing up," Sunghoon managed, turning stiffly to usher his friends out.

As Sunoo and Jungwon quickly gathered their coats, Sunghoon apologized profusely, claiming Ni-ki had a major shoot early and was just stressed. They left quickly, glancing back at the silent, intimidating figure still standing in the center of the loft.

When the door clicked shut, Sunghoon turned, his entire body shaking with fury and anticipation. He walked back towards Ni-ki, ready for the explosion.

"You had no right to do that," Sunghoon hissed, his hands balled into fists. "They were quiet! You humiliated me in front of my friends."

Ni-ki smiled then, and it was a predatory, terrifying sight. He took a final step, closing the remaining distance. His immense hand reached out, not to strike, but to lightly, possessively cup the back of Sunghoon’s neck. The contrast between the sheer size of Ni-ki's hand and Sunghoon's delicate neck was brutal.

"Your friends," Ni-ki drawled, his thumb gently rubbing the fine hairs on Sunghoon's skin, "don't belong in my territory, Sunghoon. And neither did that model date I brought home. I was making a point."

His eyes were burning now, no longer bored, but utterly focused on Sunghoon.

"The rules of this house," Ni-ki murmured, his face close, his hot breath brushing Sunghoon's ear, "are dictated by the landlord. And right now, the landlord has a complaint."

The hand on Sunghoon's neck tightened, pulling Sunghoon’s face up slightly, forcing him to meet the victorious, dominant gaze.

"You haven't paid me what you owe me for six years, Hyung," Ni-ki whispered, his voice dangerously low, finally discarding the formal address. "And I think it's time you started making up the difference."

The hand on Sunghoon's neck tightened, not painfully, but with an absolute, undeniable authority. Ni-ki's stare was volcanic, burning away the years of quiet sophistication Sunghoon had cultivated. It was the look of the passionate, demanding Riki of the past, amplified tenfold by the body of the successful, imposing man before him.

Sunghoon’s rage evaporated, replaced by a devastating cocktail of fear and desperate, electric need. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the core, that this was the moment of reckoning. Ni-ki wasn't interested in an argument; he was interested in a claim.

"You think this is about money?" Sunghoon gasped, trying to pull away, but the grip on his neck was immovable. "You set this up! You used Soobin! You wanted me here—"

"Of course, I set it up," Ni-ki interrupted, his voice a low growl of pure satisfaction. "I wanted to see if you still looked the same when you were desperate. You do. Just as beautiful, just as afraid to lose control."

He shifted his weight, pressing his body flush against Sunghoon’s, a deliberate echo of the kitchen incident, but this time, there was no pretense of retrieving tea. Ni-ki's hands moved from Sunghoon's neck to bracket his jaw, tilting his face up sharply.

"You called me too much, Hyung. You told me I was consuming you," Ni-ki’s eyes darkened, the memory stinging him even after all these years. "You said you needed space to breathe. Did you truly think you could take everything I gave you—all that adoration, all that submission—and then just walk away, leaving me feeling small?"

"That's not fair—" Sunghoon began, trying to summon his dignity.

"Fair?" Ni-ki’s tone was mocking. "Nothing about what you did was fair. But this," he leaned in, his lips hovering an inch from Sunghoon’s, "this is balanced. I'm not the baby brother anymore, am I?"

He didn't wait for an answer. The kiss was not tender, nor was it a suggestion. It was an aggressive, possessive takeover. Ni-ki’s mouth slammed onto Sunghoon’s, hard and demanding. Sunghoon's hands, which had been raised to push him away, immediately found themselves fisted in the thick fabric of Ni-ki’s tank top, clinging instead of resisting.

Ni-ki tasted like expensive coffee and jet fuel and something primal that Sunghoon had spent six years denying. He angled his head sharply, forcing Sunghoon's mouth open, his tongue immediately invading, dominant and thorough.

The sheer size difference was the new, inescapable reality. Ni-ki’s height allowed him to easily lean over Sunghoon, trapping him against the invisible boundary of the cold, vast loft. Sunghoon felt utterly consumed, his old sense of being the mature, initiating partner utterly crushed under the weight of Ni-ki’s current physical power.

Ni-ki broke the kiss, dragging his mouth roughly down Sunghoon's jaw and throat. "You walked away from the boy who would do anything for you," he panted, his voice thick with lust and lingering resentment. "Now you’re staying for the man who will make you beg to stay."

He didn't release Sunghoon, instead pulling him roughly, but effectively, toward the back of the apartment. Sunghoon stumbled, completely off balance, fueled only by the electric need now overriding his terror.

"My room, Riki," Sunghoon managed, weakly trying to direct him to his smaller, safe space.

Ni-ki ignored him, his immense hand now gripping Sunghoon's arm like a vise. He marched Sunghoon past the small, safe guest room, past the shared bathroom, and straight toward the floating steel staircase.

"No," Ni-ki declared, looking up at his sanctuary. "You’re not a guest tonight, Hyung. You're a trespasser."

He took the steps two at a time, half-dragging, half-carrying Sunghoon up to the upper level—the restricted, private territory of the model. 

They burst into the master suite, a space that was even more cavernous and luxurious than the downstairs. The bed was enormous, dressed in high-thread-count sheets. The room smelled exclusively of Ni-ki: clean laundry, expensive musk, and something intensely masculine.

Ni-ki threw Sunghoon onto the mattress. Sunghoon landed with a soft bounce, momentarily dazed. Before he could sit up, Ni-ki was over him, his knees sandwiching Sunghoon's hips, pinning him down with efficient, brutal weight.

Ni-ki’s dark eyes locked onto his. "You liked being in charge, right, Hyung? You liked thinking you had the power to make the rules." He reached down and yanked the bottom of Sunghoon’s dress shirt, pulling the fabric taut. "Now you listen to mine."

He tore the button-down shirt open, the sound of ripping fabric sharp in the silent room. Ni-ki's hands, immediately gripped Sunghoon's waist, pulling him up into a desperate, grinding kiss. The shirt was discarded, landing somewhere on the expensive carpet.

The sight of Ni-ki’s body, magnified and intimidating in the soft light of the suite, was intoxicating. His chest was corded muscle, his arms thick and powerful. Sunghoon couldn't resist. His hands explored the defined landscape of Ni-ki’s back, feeling the solid, unforgiving power that was now completely dominating him.

Ni-ki pulled away just long enough to speak, his voice ragged. "I want to hear you admit it. I want you to say my name."

"Riki," Sunghoon whispered, tears of confusion and arousal stinging his eyes. "Please."

"No," Ni-ki commanded, his fingers digging into Sunghoon’s hip bones, applying just enough pressure to hurt slightly. "My name is Ni-ki. And you will use it when you ask me for things."

He stared at Sunghoon, waiting. The silence was absolute.

The power play was complete. Sunghoon's fragile self-control shattered. He was desperate, trapped, and utterly aroused by the man who was demanding his submission.

"Ni-ki," Sunghoon finally managed, the word a plea and a surrender. "Please... don't stop."

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Ni-ki's face—the first genuine smile Sunghoon had seen all night, and it was devastating. "Good boy, Hyung."

Ni-ki's grin widened, predatory and triumphant, as Sunghoon's plea hung in the air like a surrender. "Good boy," Ni-ki repeated, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Sunghoon's chest. He didn't waste another second. His large hands gripped Sunghoon's hips, flipping him onto his stomach with effortless strength, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. Sunghoon's face pressed into the silk sheets, his breath coming in sharp gasps as Ni-ki's body covered him from behind, that towering frame pinning him down like a conquered prize.

"You've been testing me for too long, hyung," Ni-ki growled into Sunghoon's ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Sunghoon's spine. One hand fisted in Sunghoon's hair, yanking his head back just enough to expose his neck. 

Ni-ki's teeth sank into the sensitive skin there, biting hard enough to leave marks—bruises that would bloom like ownership stamps by morning. Sunghoon whimpered, his cock already throbbing against the sheets, leaking pre-cum in sticky trails that soaked the fabric beneath him.

Ni-ki's free hand roamed possessively, sliding down Sunghoon's ripped-open shirt to claw at his abs, nails digging into the taut muscles. He ground his hips forward, letting Sunghoon feel the massive bulge straining against his pants, thick and insistent against Sunghoon's ass. 

"Feel that? That's what you've been begging for without even knowing it. Now you're gonna take every fucking inch." His words were filthy, laced with that raw edge of revenge, as he released Sunghoon's hair only to shove his face back down, smothering his protests in the pillow.

With rough efficiency, Ni-ki tore at the remnants of Sunghoon's clothes, yanking his pants down over his thighs until they bunched at his knees. Sunghoon's ass was exposed now, pale and firm, clenching instinctively under the cool air of the suite.

Ni-ki palmed it greedily, spreading the cheeks apart to expose the tight, pink hole that winked at him. 

"Look at this pretty little hole," Ni-ki taunted, spitting directly onto it, watching the saliva drip down and mix with the sweat already beading there. He rubbed his thumb over the rim, pressing just enough to make Sunghoon buck and moan, his body betraying him with a needy arch.

"Please, Ni-ki..." Sunghoon gasped, his voice muffled, but Ni-ki wasn't having it. He slapped Sunghoon's ass hard, the crack echoing in the room, leaving a red handprint that stung like fire. 

"Beg louder. Tell me you want my cock stretching you open." Another slap, harder, and Sunghoon's cry was desperate, his hole twitching under the assault.

"I want it! Fuck, Ni-ki, please—just fuck me!" The words tumbled out, humiliating in their rawness, but Sunghoon's dick pulsed harder, aching for the dominance that was unraveling him.

Satisfied, Ni-ki chuckled darkly and unzipped his own pants, freeing his cock. It sprang out heavy and veined, the thick shaft curving slightly upward, the head already slick with pre-cum. 

He was huge—bigger than Sunghoon had imagined in his fleeting, forbidden thoughts—and he stroked himself once, twice, smearing the wetness along the length before lining up at Sunghoon's entrance. No lube, no mercy; just spit and the natural slickness of arousal. Ni-ki pushed in slow at first, the blunt head breaching the tight ring of muscle with a burn that made Sunghoon's eyes water.

"Fuck, you're tight," Ni-ki groaned, his hips snapping forward to bury half his length in one thrust. Sunghoon screamed into the pillow, the stretch agonizing and exquisite, his walls clenching around the invading cock like a vice. Ni-ki didn't stop, feeding more in with shallow pumps, each one forcing Sunghoon's body to yield. 

"Take it, hyung. Take my cock like the slut you are." He bottomed out finally, balls slapping against Sunghoon's taint.

Sunghoon was trembling, tears pricking his eyes from the overwhelming pressure, but his cock was dripping steadily now, untouched and begging for friction. Ni-ki leaned over him, chest to back, and started to move—pulling out almost to the tip before slamming back in, setting a brutal rhythm that shook the bedframe. Each thrust punched the air from Sunghoon's lungs, his prostate getting hammered relentlessly, sparks of pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.

"That's it, moan for me," Ni-ki demanded, one hand snaking around to wrap around Sunghoon's throat, squeezing just enough to make his head swim. The other hand reached for Sunghoon's cock, fisting it roughly, jerking in time with his hips. Sunghoon's pre-cum made the slide slick, his shaft throbbing in Ni-ki's grip as he fucked into him from behind. The room filled with obscene sounds: the wet slap of skin on skin, Sunghoon's choked gasps, Ni-ki's grunts of possession.

Ni-ki pounded harder, angling his hips to hit that spot inside Sunghoon over and over, making his vision blur with ecstasy. "You love this, don't you? Say it." He released Sunghoon's throat to slap his ass again, the sting pushing Sunghoon closer to the edge.

"Yes—fuck, Ni-ki!" Sunghoon babbled, his body on fire, every nerve alight as Ni-ki's cock dragged against his walls, filling him completely.

Not content with just this position, Ni-ki pulled out abruptly, leaving Sunghoon's hole gaping and empty, clenching around nothing. He flipped Sunghoon onto his back like he weighed nothing, shoving his legs up and apart until his knees nearly touched his shoulders. Sunghoon's cock bobbed against his stomach, red and leaking, as Ni-ki spat on his hole again and plunged back in, folding him in half. 

Face to face now, Ni-ki could watch every expression—Sunghoon's flushed cheeks, parted lips, the way his eyes rolled back with each deep thrust.

"Look at me while I fuck you," Ni-ki ordered, grabbing Sunghoon's jaw to force his gaze up. Their eyes locked, and Ni-ki's thrusts turned punishing, his balls slapping against Sunghoon's ass as he chased his own release. He leaned down to capture Sunghoon's mouth in a bruising kiss, tongues tangling messily, all teeth and dominance. Saliva dripped from the corners of Sunghoon's lips as Ni-ki fucked his face and his hole simultaneously.

Sunghoon's hands clawed at Ni-ki's back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, but Ni-ki didn't care—he ripped it off himself, tossing it aside to bare his broad chest, muscles rippling with each powerful snap of his hips. Sweat slicked their bodies, making every slide and grind filthier, the air thick with the musk of sex.

Ni-ki broke the kiss to trail bites down Sunghoon's neck, sucking marks into his collarbone while his hand pumped Sunghoon's cock faster, thumbing the slit to spread the pre-cum. "Gonna make you cum first," he murmured against the skin, voice husky. "Milk my cock with that tight ass." His pace quickened, hips pistoning like a machine, the headboard banging against the wall in rhythm.

Sunghoon was lost, his body arching off the bed as the pressure built, coiling tight in his gut. "Ni-ki—oh god, I'm gonna—" His words cut off in a strangled cry as orgasm hit him like a freight train, cum spurting in thick ropes across his abs and chest, some even hitting his chin. His hole spasmed around Ni-ki's cock, squeezing rhythmically, pulling him deeper.

Ni-ki groaned, feeling the contractions, but he didn't stop—didn't even slow. He fucked Sunghoon through it, overstimulating him until tears streamed down his face, his spent cock twitching painfully in Ni-ki's fist. "Good boy, cumming so hard for me. But we're not done. Not even close."

He pulled out again, Sunghoon's cum-smeared body slumping, but Ni-ki wasn't giving him a break. He hauled Sunghoon up by the armpits, positioning him on all fours at the edge of the bed. Kneeling behind, 

Ni-ki spread his cheeks wide, admiring the puffy, reddened hole leaking his pre-cum. "Time to really break you in," he said, spitting once more before shoving his cock back inside, bottoming out in one go.

Sunghoon collapsed forward, forehead to the sheets, ass up as Ni-ki mounted him like an animal. The new angle let Ni-ki go deeper, his hips slapping against Sunghoon's thighs with bruising force. He reached around to pinch and twist Sunghoon's sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp yelps that only spurred him on. "Scream louder. Let the whole building know who's owning this ass tonight."

The pounding was relentless, Ni-ki's stamina endless as he chased his peak, grunting with each thrust. Sunghoon's body rocked forward with the force, his overstimulated cock dragging against the sheets, hardening again despite the ache. Ni-ki's hand dipped low, scooping up some of the cum from Sunghoon's stomach and smearing it over his hole where his cock pistoned in and out, making everything slicker, messier.

"Filthy, aren't you? Covered in your own load while I fuck you raw," Ni-ki taunted, his voice breaking slightly as pleasure built. He slapped Sunghoon's ass repeatedly, turning the cheeks a deep red, the pain blending with pleasure in a haze that had Sunghoon begging incoherently—more, harder, please.

Ni-ki's thrusts grew erratic, his cock swelling inside Sunghoon as he neared the edge. "Gonna fill you up, hyung. Pump this greedy hole full of my cum until it leaks out." One hand gripped Sunghoon's hip hard enough to bruise, the other fisting his hair to yank his head back, arching his spine.

Sunghoon's back arched painfully under the pull of Ni-ki's fist in his hair, his scalp burning from the tension as Ni-ki's cock throbbed deep inside him, the veined shaft pulsing against his stretched walls. 

Sweat poured down their bodies, mixing with the remnants of Sunghoon's earlier release, creating a slick sheen that made every movement glide with obscene ease. Ni-ki's breaths came in ragged huffs, his control fraying at the edges as he hammered forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

"Fuck—take it all," Ni-ki snarled, his voice cracking with the force of his orgasm. His balls drew up tight, and he unloaded, hot spurts of cum flooding Sunghoon's ass in thick, relentless waves. Each pulse filled him fuller, the excess pressure forcing some of the creamy load to squelch out around Ni-ki's pistoning cock, dripping down Sunghoon's thighs in messy rivulets. 

Sunghoon moaned brokenly, the warmth spreading through him like liquid fire, his own spent dick twitching feebly against the sheets as the sensation pushed him into a hazy aftershock.

Ni-ki rode out his climax with shallow thrusts, grinding deep to push every drop inside, marking Sunghoon from the inside out. When he finally stilled, he didn't pull away immediately—instead, he leaned down, his chest heaving against Sunghoon's back, and bit the lobe of his ear hard enough to draw a gasp. 

"That's just the start, hyung. You're mine now, and I'm gonna use every hole to prove it."

With a wet pop, Ni-ki withdrew, his cock slick and half-hard, coated in cum. Sunghoon's hole gaped open, red and abused, a thick glob of semen oozing out to trail down his crack. He collapsed fully onto the bed, chest rising and falling in exhausted pants, but Ni-ki wasn't done. 

Grabbing Sunghoon by the shoulders, he flipped him onto his back again, the movement rough and unyielding. Sunghoon's legs splayed wide, his cum-streaked abs glistening under the dim light, cock lying limp and oversensitive against his thigh.

Ni-ki straddled Sunghoon's chest, knees pinning his arms down, his heavy balls resting on Sunghoon's sternum. That thick cock hovered inches from Sunghoon's face, still glistening with their mixed fluids, the musky scent filling his nostrils—salty, earthy, intoxicating. "Open up," Ni-ki commanded, tapping the swollen head against Sunghoon's lips, smearing a bead of leftover cum across them like gloss. Sunghoon's mouth parted on instinct, tongue darting out to taste the bitter tang, but Ni-ki wasn't patient. He gripped the base of his shaft and shoved forward, forcing the head past Sunghoon's teeth and onto his tongue.

Sunghoon gagged as the girth stretched his jaw wide, the flavor exploding on his taste buds—his own ass, Ni-ki's cum, the faint salt of sweat. Ni-ki didn't ease in; he thrust deeper, hitting the back of Sunghoon's throat with a wet glurk. 

"Suck it clean. Taste what I did to you." His hips rocked steadily, fucking Sunghoon's mouth with controlled snaps, the shaft sliding over his tongue, veins dragging against the soft palate. Saliva bubbled at the corners of Sunghoon's lips, dripping down his chin as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking obediently despite the burn in his throat.

Ni-ki's hand tangled in Sunghoon's hair again, holding his head steady as he picked up speed, the sloppy sounds of oral penetration filling the room—gags, slurps, the occasional choke when he bottomed out. Sunghoon's eyes watered, tears streaking his cheeks, but he didn't pull away; his tongue swirled around the underside, lapping at the sensitive frenulum, drawing a hiss from Ni-ki. 

"Yeah, just like that. Choke on my cock, hyung. Show me how much you want it." Precum leaked steadily now, mixing with Sunghoon's spit to create a frothy mess that coated his chin and neck.

The face-fucking turned brutal, Ni-ki's thighs flexing as he drove in deeper, nose bumping against Sunghoon's with each plunge. Sunghoon's throat convulsed around the invading length, muscles milking it involuntarily, and Ni-ki groaned low, his free hand reaching back to fondle Sunghoon's balls, rolling them roughly to keep him on edge. 

"Bet your ass is clenching right now, empty and leaking my load. You love being used like this, don't you?" Sunghoon could only hum around the cock, vibrations sending jolts up Ni-ki's spine, his own arousal stirring faintly as the degradation sank in.

Ni-ki pulled out abruptly, strings of saliva connecting his cock to Sunghoon's swollen lips, the shaft bobbing shiny and wet. He wasn't fully hard yet, but the sight of Sunghoon's wrecked face—red lips, tear-streaked cheeks, chin slick with drool and cum—had him throbbing back to life. 

"Look at you," Ni-ki murmured, voice rough with lust. He shifted down, releasing Sunghoon's arms but keeping him pinned with his weight, and crashed their mouths together in a devouring kiss.

It was messy from the start—no finesse, just raw hunger. Ni-ki's tongue plunged into Sunghoon's mouth, tasting himself on every surface, licking up the remnants of their shared filth. Sunghoon kissed back desperately, moaning into it as their lips mashed together, teeth clashing in the frenzy. 

Saliva swapped freely, dripping from the seal of their mouths to trickle down Sunghoon's jaw, mixing with the tears and the cum still smeared on his skin. Ni-ki sucked on Sunghoon's lower lip hard, biting until it bruised, then soothed it with a swipe of his tongue before diving back in, exploring every crevice.

Their faces grew slicker with each passing second, the kiss turning into a sloppy grind of mouths—Ni-ki's stubble scraping Sunghoon's chin, noses bumping, breaths mingling in hot pants. Sunghoon's hands finally free, he clutched at Ni-ki's shoulders, nails digging into the sweat-damp muscle as he arched up, chasing the contact. Ni-ki's cock, rigid again, trapped between their stomachs, leaked fresh precum onto Sunghoon's abs, sliding through the drying patches of his earlier load.

Ni-ki broke for air only to spit into Sunghoon's open mouth, watching him swallow it down with a whimper before sealing their lips again. The makeout devolved further, tongues wrestling outside their mouths at one point, slick and visible, before Ni-ki hauled Sunghoon closer by the nape, deepening the kiss until it was all wet smacks and guttural moans. Spit bubbled and popped between them, some landing on Sunghoon's chest, adding to the filthy canvas of their bodies.

"Taste good, covered in me," Ni-ki growled against Sunghoon's lips, nipping at his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks like he was fellating it. Sunghoon shuddered, his cock stirring fully now, hardening against Ni-ki's thigh as the overstimulation twisted into fresh need. The kiss stretched on, endless and consuming, until Sunghoon was lightheaded, lungs burning, but neither pulled away—lost in the possessive tangle, bodies pressed so close that every heartbeat synced in the chaos.

By the time the sun began to paint the city skyline outside the massive windows, Sunghoon was physically exhausted, aching in a way that was both humiliating and deeply satisfying.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sunghoon woke up alone.

The massive bed was empty beside him. The sheets were tangled and smelled intensely of sweat, sex, and Ni-ki's cologne. Sunghoon’s body felt heavy, bruised in all the best ways, and profoundly, dangerously addicted.

He sat up, clutching the sheet to his chest. The shame hit him first—the shame of his complete, utter surrender. He had been so easily manipulated, so quickly dominated by the man he had once viewed as a precious, submissive boy.

He found his clothes scattered on the floor. Ni-ki had left him a new, crisp white t-shirt—a designer brand, two sizes too big for Sunghoon, but probably Ni-ki's standard size. It was a gesture of ownership, a flag planted in enemy territory.

Sunghoon stumbled into the enormous, marble-clad master bathroom. He looked at his reflection—hair messy, eyes dark with exhaustion and residual lust. He looked like he had been thoroughly used.

He found Ni-ki in the kitchen downstairs, standing at the sleek island, talking quietly on the phone in rapid, smooth Japanese. He was already dressed in fresh athletic wear, looking composed, professional, and utterly flawless—as if the chaotic violence of the previous night had never happened.

The phone call ended. Ni-ki turned, finally acknowledging Sunghoon, who was descending the staircase in the oversized white t-shirt.

Ni-ki’s eyes swept over him—the messy hair, the exposed legs, the way the shirt dwarfed him. The look was possessive, a hint of the previous night’s fire still lingering, but his voice was flat, purely transactional.

"I need you to cover the last week of next month. Paris. I'm going to be gone for three weeks straight," Ni-ki stated, ignoring the sexual tension humming between them. "I left my agency's contact number on the counter. Water the plants, collect the mail. Don't touch my workspace upstairs."

Sunghoon stood on the last step, gripping the steel railing. The immediate switch back to the landlord/tenant dynamic was jarring.

"You don't get to treat me like a maid after that," Sunghoon finally said, his voice trembling slightly with residual emotion.

Ni-ki set his coffee cup down, the clink echoing in the huge room. He walked toward Sunghoon slowly, his shadow enveloping the smaller man.

"Oh, but I do, Hyung," Ni-ki murmured, stopping inches away. He reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Sunghoon’s ear, a gesture that was both tender and utterly condescending. "That was the first payment. The rent is still cheap, but the cost of staying in my good graces is very, very high."

He stepped back, returning to the island. "You pay me now in compliance, Sunghoon. You exist here on my terms, in my space, and you satisfy me when I return. If you have a problem with that, the door works perfectly, and Soobin already has five people lined up to take the unit."

The threat was implicit and effective. Sunghoon couldn't leave. He needed the cheap rent. And, shamefully, terrifyingly, he needed Ni-ki's touch.

"When you return," Sunghoon asked, forcing the words out, "will you bring another guest?"

Ni-ki paused, picking up a designer duffel bag. He smiled slowly, a lazy, sexy smile that made Sunghoon's knees weak.

"That depends entirely on how well you behave while I'm gone, Hyung," Ni-ki said. "Prove that you're worth keeping exclusive."

He tossed Sunghoon a small, metallic object—a spare magnetic access card. "I'm leaving now. Don't burn the place down. And clean up your mess upstairs."

And just like that, Ni-ki was gone, leaving Sunghoon standing alone in the silent loft, clutching the keycard, feeling utterly owned.

The day after Ni-ki left, Sunghoon's friends descended. Sunoo had been worried after the abrupt exit and the undeniable tension in the apartment.

The day after Ni-ki left again—following a brief, frosty exchange in which Ni-ki had merely nodded in dismissal—Sunghoon's friends descended. Sunoo had been worried after the abrupt exit the night before and the undeniable, hostile tension that had crackled in the apartment.

"Sunghoon, what was that?" Sunoo demanded, sitting on the edge of Sunghoon’s small bed. Jungwon and Jake flanked him, looking serious. They were all huddled in the single small bedroom, the door closed against the echoing emptiness of the main loft, creating a pocket of familiarity in the vast, cold space.

Sunghoon was back in his own space now, feeling slightly more grounded, but the memory of Ni-ki’s immense form dominating the living room still haunted him.

"Nothing," Sunghoon lied smoothly, already feeling the familiar, bitter taste of deceit. He was an expert at lying to his friends about Ni-ki; he’d been doing it for six years. "Riki is a high-strung model. Big agency. He gets jet-lagged and becomes... territorial. It was unprofessional, but I need this apartment."

"He was so rude," Jungwon muttered, frowning at the immaculate carpet. "He’s changed so much. Remember little Riki who used to follow you everywhere? He was always so sweet, dragging his feet behind you at the convenience store."

The comment was a fresh stab of pain, sharp and precise. Little Riki. The one who used to fit perfectly under Sunghoon's chin, the one whose hand Sunghoon could easily engulf with his own. That memory was the ghost Sunghoon was desperately trying to exorcise.

"People grow up, Jungwon," Sunghoon said, forcing himself to sound detached and mature. "He’s successful now. He has a lot on his plate. He’s running an international career, not worrying about our high school drama."

Jake, who was always the most perceptive, crossed his arms. "Hoon, that was more than stress. There was hostility. He looked at you like... like he was measuring you for a coffin. Did you two know that it was going to be him before Soobin-hyung introduced you to the apartment?"

The question hung heavy in the air. Sunghoon knew he couldn't afford to tell the truth. He'd never told his friends the exact reason for the breakup—he'd only said it was messy. If they knew the full extent of the emotional abuse he'd inflicted, and the humiliating sexual reversal he was currently experiencing, they would force him to leave.

"No," Sunghoon lied, meeting Jake's discerning eye firmly, injecting confidence into the denial. "Soobin only gave me his first name. I didn't connect it until he opened the door. It was a complete shock. But I can't back out now, Jake. I signed the paperwork, and I'm financially committed for three months."

"And you're okay with this?" Heeseung asked, walking in, carrying a takeout box that instantly filled the room with the comforting smell of kimchi fried rice. "Living under a petty tyrant just to save some money?"

"It's more than saving money, Heeseung," Sunghoon insisted, pushing the narrative of stoic independence. "It's freedom. When he’s gone—which is most of the time—I have the entire loft to myself. It’s quiet, it’s safe, and I can actually save up a security deposit for a place I choose later. It's worth it." He forced a careless smile, gesturing toward the food. "Now, did you bring the kimchi fried rice, or are we starving?"

Sunoo, ever the caregiver, immediately started distributing the food. But Jungwon wasn't letting it go.

"I just can't reconcile it," Jungwon said, shaking his head as he accepted his bowl. "Riki used to be so timid around you. I remember when he cried because he thought you were mad at him for eating your ice cream. He was just… soft. Now he looks like he could break me in half."

"That's the industry," Sunghoon said, taking a massive bite of rice to avoid speaking further, hoping the food would distract them. "It hardens people. He had to grow a spine. It doesn't mean anything to us."

It means everything to me, Sunghoon thought, the kimchi fried rice suddenly tasting like ash. It means the boy I discarded for being too needy is now a man who can pin me down without effort. It means the one time I chose pragmatism over passion, I lost control, and now I’m paying the price.

He successfully diverted the conversation, forcing them to focus on food and the upcoming gallery exhibition. 

But the unease lingered in the quiet glances his friends exchanged. His friends were fiercely protective, and Sunghoon knew that if they suspected even a fraction of what was really happening in Unit 1704, they would try to intervene, ruining his tenuous financial security and forcing him to face the emotional reality of his new relationship with Ni-ki. 

He couldn't let that happen. He needed the rent relief, and he needed to prove, to himself and to Ni-ki, that he was still the one in control of his own life, even if he was suffocating under the weight of Ni-ki’s newfound dominance.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sunghoon spent the next three weeks immersed in work, trying to bury the memory of the master suite under a pile of invoices. But every corner of the loft was now tainted. The kitchen counter was no longer just a place to make ramen; it was the site of the first intentional touch. The silence was no longer peaceful; it was a waiting game.

He found himself wandering up the steel staircase when he was certain the unit was empty, drawn to the forbidden territory. He stood at the edge of the master suite, staring at the huge, untidy bed, remembering the crushing weight of Ni-ki’s body, the rough feel of his hands, and the sound of his demanding voice.

The feeling wasn't shame anymore. It was a gnawing, desperate longing. He was addicted to the total, unthinking submission, the feeling of being utterly overpowered by the boy he had dismissed as "too much."

He went back downstairs, found the agency contact card Ni-ki had left, and flipped it over. He pulled a sharpie from his desk and wrote a single word on the back, placing it back on the kitchen island where Ni-ki would see it upon his return:

Wait.

It was a small, silent act of emotional defiance, a tiny attempt to inject a feeling into their purely physical contract. Sunghoon wasn't sure if he was asking Ni-ki to wait for him, or if he was commanding Ni-ki to wait to see how badly he needed him when he got back.

He just knew he had to hold onto some semblance of control, even if it was just the control of anticipation. He needed to be wanted on his own terms, not just used as a means of repayment.

He knew that if he didn't set a boundary, however fragile, the game would consume him entirely. But he also knew that, deep down, he was already lost.

The two weeks Ni-ki was absent stretched Sunghoon’s nerves thin. The apartment felt too vast, too quiet, and too clean. Sunghoon kept returning to the agency card on his desk, running his finger over the sharpie mark he’d left: Wait. It was an impulsive, foolish attempt at staking some claim, a desperate desire to impose his will on the man who had effortlessly overturned their entire history.

He was working late at the gallery one Tuesday, the cold evening rain streaking the windows, when his phone buzzed with a short, non-committal text.

Ni-ki: Flight delayed. Landing 2 am.

Sunghoon rushed home. He needed to be awake, composed, and ready to meet the inevitable demand, but the delay forced him into a state of wired exhaustion.

He was sitting on the sleek, granite kitchen island at 2:30 am, nursing a glass of water, when the door finally swung open.

Ni-ki didn't look like a victorious tyrant or a flawless international model. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in 48 hours. He was wearing a soft, oversized wool coat, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his travel bag, and his face was drawn. The exhaustion stripped away the intimidating model façade, revealing the 21-year-old underneath.

He dropped his suitcase by the door with a loud thud, not bothering to turn on the main lights. He paused, his sharp gaze finding Sunghoon perched on the island in the dim ambient light filtering from the city.

He walked past Sunghoon without a word, heading straight for the staircase. But then he stopped at the desk, his eyes catching on the agency card. He picked it up, turned it over, and saw Sunghoon’s handwriting.

"Wait," Ni-ki repeated, his voice raspy and dull with fatigue. He didn't sound angry; he sounded profoundly tired and hurt. "You left this for me?"

"Yes," Sunghoon admitted, sliding off the counter. "It was... a challenge. I was tired of being treated like a time slot in your schedule."

Ni-ki turned fully, slowly. He took two steps closer to Sunghoon, dropping the card back onto the desk. "You were always the one who set the schedule, Hyung. You decided when we met, when we separated, and when we were done. Don't pretend I’m the only one with control here."

His eyes were bloodshot, dark with exhaustion, but the intensity was undeniable. "I flew hours, worked a fifteen-hour day, and then sat on a delayed plane for three more. I need sleep. But the second I saw that, all I felt was this," he pointed a trembling finger at his own chest, "this desperate need to secure you before you find another way to slip away from me."

He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sunghoon's waist and pulling him against his chest with a possessive, almost desperate force. It was a hug, but one saturated with ownership.

"You smell like home, Hyung," Ni-ki whispered into Sunghoon's hair, a confession of deep, hidden need. "And you told me to wait. I can't. I can’t risk waking up and finding you gone again."

The raw vulnerability in the statement disarmed Sunghoon completely. He reached up, his hands finding the hard, muscular planes of Ni-ki’s back.

Ni-ki didn't take him to the bed. He initiated the encounter right there in the shadow of the massive living room, pushing Sunghoon back against the cold, metal railing of the staircase.

This time, the dominance was less about punishment and more about possession. Ni-ki's actions were driven by a frantic need for reassurance. He used his height and size to envelope Sunghoon entirely, trapping him against the unyielding metal, kissing him with a demanding urgency that bordered on desperate.

He stripped Sunghoon with rough, efficient movements, every touch and kiss a declaration of ownership. "You are not leaving," he panted against Sunghoon's neck, teeth nipping lightly. "You are mine. You live here, you sleep here, and you are mine until I decide otherwise."

Sunghoon's breath hitched as Ni-ki's words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, echoing the fear that had gnawed at him during those endless months apart. The loft's dim light cast long shadows across the cold concrete floor, but Ni-ki's presence filled the space, his broad frame towering over Sunghoon like a shield against the world. There was no escape from the intensity in his eyes—dark, stormy, laced with a desperation that twisted Sunghoon's gut.

Ni-ki's hands, calloused from endless hours of work and travel, gripped Sunghoon's hips with a firmness that bordered on bruising, but there was a tremor in them, a subtle plea hidden beneath the dominance. He pulled Sunghoon closer, their bodies aligning in the chill of the room, heat radiating from Ni-ki's skin like a promise. “Say it,” Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and gravelly, lips brushing the shell of Sunghoon's ear. 'Say you won't leave me again.'

Sunghoon's response was a soft gasp, his fingers threading through Ni-ki's damp hair, pulling him into a kiss that started slow, almost tentative—a clash of lips that deepened with every shared breath. Ni-ki's tongue slipped past Sunghoon's teeth, exploring with a hunger tempered by need, tasting the salt of unshed tears and the faint bitterness of exhaustion. 

Their mouths moved together in a rhythm born of longing, wet and unhurried at first, until Ni-ki's restraint snapped. He backed Sunghoon against the nearest wall, the rough texture scraping his back through his thin shirt, but the pain was distant, overshadowed by the press of Ni-ki's erection grinding against his thigh.

Clothes came off in a frenzy of tugs and rips—Ni-ki's fingers fumbling with Sunghoon's buttons, exposing pale skin inch by inch, while Sunghoon yanked at Ni-ki's belt, the leather whipping free with a sharp crack. 

Shirts hit the floor, followed by pants pooling at their ankles, until they stood bare, cocks hardening in the cool air, brushing together in a slick slide that drew twin groans. Ni-ki's shaft was thick, veins prominent along its length, the head already leaking a pearl of precum that Sunghoon smeared with his thumb, eliciting a shudder from the younger man.

“You're everything to me,” Ni-ki whispered, his forehead resting against Sunghoon's, eyes locked in a gaze that stripped away pretenses. He dropped to his knees then, the concrete biting into his skin, but he didn't care—his focus was solely on Sunghoon, on worshiping the body he'd missed for so long. 

Strong hands parted Sunghoon's thighs, and Ni-ki leaned in, tongue flicking out to trace the underside of Sunghoon's cock from base to tip. Sunghoon's head fell back against the wall with a thud, a moan escaping as Ni-ki took him into his mouth, lips stretching wide around the girth.

The suction was immediate and intense, Ni-ki's cheeks hollowing as he bobbed forward, taking more with each pass until his nose nudged Sunghoon's pubic bone. Saliva dripped freely, coating Sunghoon's balls and trickling down his perineum, the wet heat contrasting the room's chill. Ni-ki hummed around the length, vibrations buzzing through Sunghoon's core, making his knees buckle. One hand braced against the wall, the other tangled in Ni-ki's hair, guiding him deeper, fucking his mouth with shallow thrusts that matched the desperate rhythm of their heartbeats.

But Ni-ki pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting his swollen lips to Sunghoon's glistening cock. He didn't rush things, though—his eyes locked onto Sunghoon's flushed face, drinking in the way his chest heaved, the desperation etched in every line. 

Ni-ki's hand wrapped around Sunghoon's throbbing shaft, fingers curling tight at the base, thumb swiping over the slick head to spread the pre-cum beading there. He started slow, a deliberate stroke from root to tip, twisting his wrist just enough to make Sunghoon's hips buck forward involuntarily.

Sunghoon let out a shaky moan, his hands pressing flat against the wall for support as Ni-ki's grip tightened, pumping faster now, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the dim space. Ni-ki leaned in closer, his free hand sliding up Sunghoon's thigh, nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin, urging his legs to part wider. 

“You feel so good like this,” Ni-ki whispered, voice rough with want, his strokes varying—long and firm one moment, then short and teasing the next, focusing on the underside where veins pulsed hot under his palm. Sunghoon's cock twitched in his fist, leaking steadily, and Ni-ki smeared it all back down the length, making each pull slicker, smoother.

He kept at it, unrelenting, watching Sunghoon's face contort with building pleasure, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. Ni-ki's own arousal strained against his pants, but he ignored it, focused entirely on drawing out every whimper, every twitch from Sunghoon. 

He slowed deliberately when Sunghoon's thighs started to tremble, edging him closer to the brink before easing off, thumb pressing into the slit to coax out more pre-cum. 

“Not yet,” Ni-ki murmured, lips brushing Sunghoon's ear, his hand never stopping completely, just shifting to feather-light touches that kept the fire simmering.

Sunghoon's pleas started then, soft and broken—”Ni-ki, please, I need…”—but Ni-ki just smiled against his neck, nipping at the skin there as he resumed a steady rhythm, faster now, his grip unyielding. 

The heat built in Sunghoon's core, coiling tighter with every slide of Ni-ki's fingers, the pressure mounting until his balls drew up, body arching into the touch. Ni-ki felt it coming, the way Sunghoon's cock swelled in his hand, and he pumped harder, twisting at the head, urging him over the edge. Cum spurted hot across Ni-ki's knuckles, ropes of it painting Sunghoon's stomach and the wall in front of him, his cries echoing off the concrete as waves of release crashed through him.

Ni-ki didn't let go right away, milking every last drop with gentle squeezes, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on Sunghoon's hip. He pressed a kiss to Sunghoon's shoulder, tasting the salt of sweat there, as Sunghoon sagged against the wall, spent but still humming with aftershocks. 

“That's my doll,” Ni-ki breathed, finally releasing the softening cock, bringing his cum-slick hand to his mouth to lick it clean, eyes never leaving Sunghoon's dazed expression.

But Ni-ki wasn't done—not by a long shot. He spun Sunghoon around gently, pressing his chest to the wall, the shift a quiet yielding that screamed trust. Ni-ki's fingers traced Sunghoon's spine, dipping lower to part his cheeks, exposing the tight pucker that clenched under his gaze. 

He spat into his palm, rubbing the moisture over his own fingers before pressing one against Sunghoon's entrance, circling slowly, teasing the rim until it relaxed just a fraction. Sunghoon shivered, pushing back instinctively, and Ni-ki took the cue, sliding the digit inside with careful pressure, feeling the heat envelop him.

He worked it in deeper, crooking his finger to brush against that sensitive spot inside, drawing a sharp gasp from Sunghoon. Ni-ki added a second finger soon after, scissoring them gently to stretch the tight ring of muscle, his free hand reaching around to toy with Sunghoon's spent cock, coaxing it back to half-hardness with lazy strokes. 

The dual sensations had Sunghoon moaning steadily now, his body rocking between Ni-ki's hand in front and the fingers thrusting behind, building a fresh wave of arousal. Ni-ki twisted his fingers, curling them repeatedly against the prostate, each press sending jolts of pleasure up Sunghoon's spine, making his knees buckle.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” Ni-ki groaned, his voice thick as he pumped his fingers faster, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet. He leaned in, chest flush against Sunghoon's back, nipping at his earlobe while his thumb circled the stretched hole around his knuckles. 

Sunghoon's walls clenched around the intrusion, pulling Ni-ki deeper, and he obliged, adding a third finger, the stretch burning sweetly now, filling Sunghoon in a way that made his head spin. Ni-ki's other hand abandoned the cock to grip Sunghoon's hip, holding him steady as he fucked him open with deliberate thrusts, angling to hit that spot over and over until pre-cum dripped from Sunghoon's tip again.

“You take it so well... feels amazing clenching around me like that.” He withdrew his fingers eventually, but only to slick his hand over his own cock, the head flushed and leaking as he aligned it with Sunghoon's prepared entrance.

He pushed in slowly at first, the head breaching with a pop that made Sunghoon cry out, walls fluttering around the thick intrusion. Inch by inch, Ni-ki sank deeper, the stretch intense, filling Sunghoon completely until his hips met soft flesh. They paused there, breaths syncing, Ni-ki's arms encircling Sunghoon's waist, holding him close as if afraid he'd vanish. 

“You're home,” Ni-ki murmured, lips pressing kisses to Sunghoon's shoulder, a tender contrast to the fullness inside him. He started moving then, shallow rocks of his hips at first, letting Sunghoon adjust to the girth splitting him open, each drag pulling whimpers from his throat.

Ni-ki's hands roamed, one sliding up to pinch a nipple, rolling it between fingers until it hardened, the other gripping Sunghoon's thigh to hitch his leg higher, opening him up more. He thrust deeper now, the slap of skin echoing as he bottomed out, grinding against the prostate with every push. 

Sunghoon's cock, hard again, bobbed untouched between them, smearing pre-cum on Ni-ki's thigh. Ni-ki reached for it, wrapping his fingers around the base and stroking in time with his hips, the combined rhythm making Sunghoon's vision blur with pleasure.

They built a steady pace, Ni-ki's cock sliding in and out with wet ease, stretching Sunghoon's hole around its thickness, the veins dragging against sensitive walls. 

Sunghoon pushed back to meet each thrust, his body arching, chasing the friction that sent sparks through his nerves. Ni-ki's breaths grew labored, sweat dripping down his back, but he didn't falter, angling his hips to hit that spot relentlessly, free hand tracing Sunghoon's collarbones, memorizing every gasp and shudder.

Midway through, they sank to the floor together, Ni-ki maneuvering them down without breaking connection, the concrete cold against his back as Sunghoon straddled his lap now, sinking fully onto the cock with a shared groan. 

Sunghoon rode him with abandon, hands braced on Ni-ki's chest, nails digging in as he lifted and dropped, the thick length spearing deep inside. Ni-ki thrust up to meet him, hands on Sunghoon's ass, spreading the cheeks to watch his own cock disappear into the tight heat, the rim stretched taut around him.

Their mouths crashed in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, sharing breaths between thrusts. Ni-ki's hand slipped between them again, jerking Sunghoon's cock in firm pulls, thumbing the head to spread the slickness. 

Sunghoon's pace faltered as pleasure coiled tight, his walls squeezing Ni-ki's shaft like a vice, pulling him deeper. Ni-ki flipped them suddenly, pinning Sunghoon beneath him on the floor, legs hooked over his shoulders as he pounded in harder, the new angle letting him go even deeper, balls slapping against Sunghoon's ass with every snap of his hips.

Sunghoon's responses dissolved into pleas, his body arching as the coil wound tighter, Ni-ki's thrusts relentless now, cock dragging over every sensitive inch inside. Ni-ki leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his hand worked Sunghoon's length faster, the dual assault pushing him toward the edge. 

But Ni-ki slowed just enough to draw it out, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, teasing the brink without letting go. Sunghoon clawed at his back, begging incoherently, and Ni-ki obliged with a particularly deep grind, fingers tightening on the cock in his fist.

He kept them there, locked in the rhythm, bodies moving as one—thrust, stroke, clench—building the tension higher, sweat-slick skin sliding together, the air thick with moans and the musk of sex. Ni-ki's own release hovered close, but he held back, focused on Sunghoon's every reaction, every flutter around his cock, determined to make this last.

Sunghoon's ass clenched tight around Ni-ki's cock as he exploded, ropes of hot cum blasting across his own abs and Ni-ki's hand still jerking him off. 

His whole body shook, moans turning into desperate gasps, but Ni-ki didn't slow down. He kept pounding that slick hole, feeling the spasms milk his thick shaft, until Sunghoon slumped forward, spent but still hard enough to beg for more. 

Ni-ki slid out with a wet pop, his cock throbbing, veins bulging, covered in lube and ass juices. No way was he done—Sunghoon's hole winked at him, pink and puffy, begging to be wrecked again.

Ni-ki grabbed Sunghoon's hair, yanking him up to his knees on the dirty floor. 

“Suck it clean,” he growled, shoving his cock right into Sunghoon's open mouth. Sunghoon gagged as the head hit the back of his throat, but he wrapped his lips tight, tongue swirling over the salty mix of cum and lube. 

Ni-ki thrust forward, fucking his face hard—hips snapping, balls slapping Sunghoon's chin with every deep plunge. Spit drooled down Sunghoon's chin, pooling on his chest, mixing with the drying cum. 

“Yeah, choke on it, take my cock down your throat like a good slut.” Sunghoon's eyes watered, but he sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks, one hand cupping Ni-ki's balls to massage them while the other stroked the base he couldn't swallow.

Ni-ki face-fucked him rough for what felt like forever, pulling out only to slap his cock against Sunghoon's tongue, watching the strings of saliva connect them. Sunghoon moaned around it, his own dick twitching back to full hardness just from the abuse. 

Finally, Ni-ki hauled him up, spinning him to face the wall and dropping to his knees. He spread those firm cheeks wide, exposing the stretched asshole, still leaking from the pounding. Ni-ki dove in, tongue lapping flat over the rim, tasting the musky tang of ass and lube. He rimmed Sunghoon deep, pushing his tongue inside the hot, clenching hole, fucking it with wet thrusts while his hands kneaded the globes.

Sunghoon bucked back, grinding his ass on Ni-ki's face. “Fuck, yes—Ni-ki,” Ni-ki obliged, spitting right on the hole before plunging his tongue in again, swirling it around the walls. He added a finger, then two, scissoring them open while his mouth sucked on the rim, lips sealed tight. 

Sunghoon's cock leaked pre-cum onto the floor, and Ni-ki reached around to grip it, stroking fast and firm, thumb rubbing the slit to smear the wetness. Sunghoon's legs trembled, ass pushing back greedily as Ni-ki's tongue and fingers worked him over, the slurping sounds echoing loud.

When Sunghoon was whining and close again, Ni-ki stood, pinning his wrists to the wall with one hand. He lined up his cock and rammed in balls-deep, no mercy, the tight heat sucking him in. 

“Take it, you greedy bitch” Ni-ki grunted, hips slamming forward, cockhead battering Sunghoon's prostate with every thrust. Sunghoon cried out, body jolting, ass clenching around the invading dick. 

Ni-ki's free hand roamed—tugging balls, twisting nipples hard enough to make Sunghoon yelp, then dropping to yank his cock in brutal strokes. The wall shook with their rhythm, sweat dripping down their backs.

Ni-ki spun him around, hoisting one leg over his arm and driving back in, face-to-face now. He fucked up into that ass, deep and relentless, their sweaty chests sliding together. Sunghoon's arms locked around Ni-ki's neck, nails digging in as he rode the thrusts. 

“Harder—please, Ni-ki!' Their mouths crashed, tongues battling sloppy and wet, Ni-ki biting Sunghoon's lip before sucking on it. The angle let his cock grind right over the spot that made Sunghoon see stars, hole fluttering around him.

But Ni-ki wanted more control. He pulled out, pushing Sunghoon down to all fours on the cold concrete. Mounting him like a dog, Ni-ki gripped his hips and slammed home, pounding that ass with savage force. 

Sunghoon's face pressed to the ground, ass up high, taking every inch as Ni-ki leaned over him, chest to back, one hand shoving him down while the other jerked his leaking cock. 

“Your ass is mine—gonna fill it up soon,” Ni-ki snarled, teeth nipping his shoulder, leaving red marks.

Sunghoon pushed back, meeting the brutal pace, his moans muffled against the floor. Ni-ki sat back then, pulling Sunghoon onto his lap reverse, impaling him fully. 

He bounced that ass up and down his cock, hands bruising the hips as he thrust up hard. Sunghoon's head lolled back, cries bouncing with each drop, his hole stretched wide around the thick base. Ni-ki's fingers dug into the cheeks, spreading them to watch his cock disappear inside, then one hand wrapped Sunghoon's throat lightly, holding him steady as he fucked up relentlessly.

They flipped again—Sunghoon on his back, knees shoved to his chest in a full mating press. Ni-ki folded him in half, cock spearing deep, jackhammering with short, powerful strokes that made Sunghoon's eyes roll back.

“'Look at you, ass gaping for my dick—cum for me again.” Sunghoon's cock rubbed between their abs, untouched but spurting pre-cum everywhere. Ni-ki kissed him filthy, tongue fucking his mouth in time with his hips, the squelch of ass on cock obscene and loud.

Ni-ki slid down, swallowing Sunghoon's cock whole, sucking like a vacuum while three fingers rammed his ass, curling to pound the prostate. Sunghoon arched, fucking Ni-ki's mouth, hands yanking his hair. 

“Oh fuck, g–gonna cum, Ni-ki!' Ni-ki hummed around him, vibrations shooting through, fingers twisting inside the slick heat. He pulled off just as Sunghoon teetered, denying him, then flipped to side-fuck, leg over shoulder for leverage. Cock grinding in circles, Ni-ki stroked him slow, mouth on his neck, sucking hickeys while pressing a thumb against his taint.

They rolled into lotus, Sunghoon straddling Ni-ki's lap, rocking on that dick as legs wrapped tight. Hands everywhere—Sunghoon scratching Ni-ki's back, Ni-ki lifting and dropping that ass, their eyes locked. 

“Ride me, baby—milk my cock with your tight hole.” Sunghoon ground down, taking it all, whispers turning to gasps. Ni-ki broke it by straddling Sunghoon's chest, feeding his cock back into that eager mouth for another round of face-fucking, slower but deep, fingers plunging ass again.

Positions blurred—Ni-ki spanking Sunghoon over his knee, hand cracking red on the cheeks before fingering the hole open wide. 

They tumbled to the floor, Sunghoon reverse riding, ass cheeks bouncing as he slammed down, Ni-ki's thumbs teasing the rim where cock met hole. Sunghoon came twice more—once painting Ni-ki's chest, once shooting across the floor, but Ni-ki kept going, edging himself, cock pulsing but not releasing.

He bent Sunghoon over again, eating his cum-filled ass, tongue scooping out the mess before fucking back in. 

They 69'd on their sides, cocks deep in throats, gagging and slurping. Ni-ki pinned him missionary, legs wide, pounding slow then fast, hand choking lightly as Sunghoon begged. “Don't stop—ugh, Ni-ki!' Sweat soaked them, bodies marked with bites, bruises blooming. Ni-ki's balls tightened, but he held off, flipping to doggy once more, railing hard. The night stretched, endless fucking, holes stretched, cocks raw, but they chased more, lost in the heat.

They didn't separate immediately. Ni-ki's arms wrapped around Sunghoon's torso, pulling him down into a full embrace, their sweat-mingled bodies collapsing sideways onto the cold surface. His cock softened inside, but he stayed buried, an intimate anchor. Kisses peppered Sunghoon's temple, his jaw, soft and reverent now. 

“Stay with me,” Ni-ki whispered one last time, voice fading into exhaustion. Sunghoon nodded against his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Ni-ki's skin. Sleep claimed Ni-ki first, his breathing evening out into deep, contented sighs, holding Sunghoon captive in the warmth of his massive frame—the loft silent save for the steady rhythm of their hearts beating as one.

By the end, Ni-ki didn't move. He simply wrapped Sunghoon tightly in his arms, his massive body curled around the smaller man on the cold floor, holding him captive. He fell asleep almost instantly, the sound of his deep, exhausted breathing the only noise in the loft.

Sunghoon lay pinned, aching but oddly reassured. Ni-ki’s dominance was his defense mechanism; his rage was just fear of abandonment given a powerful physical outlet.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sunghoon woke up in Ni-ki's arms on the floor. Ni-ki was still deeply asleep, his grip absolute. Sunghoon couldn't move, and he didn't want to. He spent a quiet hour simply watching the rise and fall of the younger man's chest, taking in the serene, innocent face that rarely showed itself now.

When Ni-ki finally stirred, the instant he saw Sunghoon's face, the possessive intensity snapped back into place.

"Good morning, Hyung," Ni-ki murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He tightened his grip, pulling Sunghoon impossibly closer. "You're still here."

"Where else would I be?" Sunghoon replied, his voice soft.

"Anywhere easy," Ni-ki said simply, releasing him finally, rolling onto his feet with the fluid grace of a seasoned dancer.

They spent the morning in strained silence, the unspoken contract hanging between them. Ni-ki was moody and distant, catching up on emails and scheduling calls, but he refused to let Sunghoon move too far. If Sunghoon was in the kitchen, Ni-ki would work on the island, his massive frame a constant, silent obstruction. If Sunghoon went to his room, Ni-ki would follow to use the adjacent shared space. He was marking his territory, and Sunghoon was the prize, watched constantly.

Later that afternoon, Sunghoon was organizing papers for the gallery at his small desk when Ni-ki approached him. He didn’t announce himself, simply stopping a few feet away, holding an old, familiar photograph.

It was a high school photo: Sunghoon, 17, beaming, arm draped proudly around a tiny, bright-eyed Riki, 15. Riki was clutching Sunghoon’s waist, looking up at him with unadulterated adoration. The photo was dog-eared and worn, clearly saved, handled, and kept.

"Where did you keep this?" Sunghoon asked, surprised, his voice thin. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt at the sight of his younger, crueler self.

"It was in a box you left" Ni-ki said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, making it all the more chilling. He didn't look at the picture; he looked only at Sunghoon, his dark eyes like a pair of thermal sensors. "We used to hang out with Jake, Sunoo, Jay, all of them. They were my friends too, Hyung. They came to my performances. They came to my house."

The accusation was painful because it was entirely true. Sunghoon had been the gatekeeper, and when he'd closed the gate on Riki, everyone else had been locked out as well. "I know, Riki, I'm sorry—"

"No," Ni-ki cut him off, holding the picture away, emphasizing the visual contrast between the past and the present. His voice held a low, dangerous rumble. "When you broke up with me, you didn't just break up with me. You took them with you. You were older, you were the center of the group. You let me vanish. You let them forget the tiny kid who was already obsessed with you. And the tiny kid who also needed the friends who helped you pick yourself up"

He tossed the photo onto Sunghoon’s lap. It landed with a soft, accusatory flutter. "You didn't just break up with me. You isolated me. And I had to rebuild everything, every friendship, every success, completely alone. That's why I treat this apartment like a vault, Sunghoon. I won't lose this space again, and I won't share you with people who only ever saw me as your cute accessory."

Sunghoon felt a rush of genuine, suffocating regret. He hadn't realized the collateral damage of his self-preservation. He had been so focused on his own feeling of being 'suffocated' that he hadn't considered Riki's complete social abandonment, the silent years Riki must have spent alone.

"They missed you, too," Sunghoon admitted, picking up the photo, the image of Riki's innocent face burning into his mind. "They still ask. I told them you were traveling, focused on your career. I protected you."

"And you don't tell them we share a bed now," Ni-ki countered, stepping closer, his presence immediately dominating the conversation and the small space around the desk. He placed both hands on the arms of Sunghoon’s chair, leaning in until their noses were inches apart. Sunghoon could smell the clean, expensive scent of Ni-ki's cologne and the warm, slightly salty musk of his skin. "You keep me a secret. You still see me as the mistake you need to hide."

The atmosphere shifted instantly from emotional hurt to raw, immediate lust, hot and blinding. Ni-ki's frustration and need were palpable, thrumming in the air like a pulled wire.

"If I'm a secret, Hyung," Ni-ki breathed, his eyes dark and demanding, the pupils blown wide with need, "then you will keep me so completely satisfied that you won't be able to think about anything else when you're with your friends."

He pressed his mouth to Sunghoon’s, hard and seeking, a violent, desperate claiming. This was pure possession, driven by the desire to erase the memory of their lost friendship circle and the years of rejection. Ni-ki didn't want comfort; he wanted confirmation that Sunghoon valued him—needed him—more than his entire past life and reputation.

Ni-ki used his size not just for strength, but for engulfment. He didn't ask; he took. He shifted Sunghoon back in the chair, trapping him beneath the bulk of his body, the broad expanse of his chest pressing the air from Sunghoon's lungs. His kiss was fierce, focused, and overwhelming, demanding Sunghoon meet his intensity.

Sunghoon's breath came in ragged gasps, his body still trembling from the raw confrontation that had ripped open old wounds between them. Ni-ki's eyes burned with a mix of unresolved anger and fierce possession, his hand gripping Sunghoon's jaw firmly as he pulled him closer. The air in the room hung heavy with the scent of sweat and unspoken regrets, but Ni-ki wasn't done asserting his claim—not by a long shot.

“You've hurt me enough,” Ni-ki growled, his voice low and edged with command. “Now you're going to make it right. On your knees.” His free hand slid down to the front of his jeans, palming the growing bulge there, his gaze never leaving Sunghoon's face. There was no room for hesitation in his tone; it was a demand wrapped in the heat of their shared history.

Sunghoon's heart pounded, a flush creeping up his neck as he sank to his knees without protest. The emotional storm had left him vulnerable, and Ni-ki's dominance felt like the anchor he needed. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for Ni-ki's belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the metal clinking softly in the tense silence. Ni-ki watched him intently, his chest rising and falling faster, anticipation building like a coil ready to snap.

Once the belt was undone, Sunghoon tugged down the zipper of Ni-ki's jeans, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his boxers. It sprang out, thick and veined, already leaking a bead of precum at the tip. Sunghoon's mouth watered at the sight, his own arousal stirring despite the ache in his chest. He wrapped his hand around the base, feeling the heat pulsing through the shaft, and looked up at Ni-ki for approval.

Ni-ki's lips curled into a smirk, his fingers threading through Sunghoon's hair, guiding him forward. “Suck it,' he ordered, his voice rough with need. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Sunghoon leaned in, his tongue flicking out to lap at the precum smeared across the head. The salty tang hit his taste buds, making him hum softly as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive underside. Ni-ki groaned, his hips twitching forward involuntarily, but he held back, letting Sunghoon set the initial pace. Sunghoon took his time, tracing every ridge and vein with wet, deliberate strokes, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the length before parting them to take the tip into his mouth.

He sucked gently at first, hollowing his cheeks to create a warm suction that made Ni-ki's breath hitch. His hand pumped the base in slow, twisting motions, spreading the saliva that dripped from his lips down the shaft. 

Ni-ki's grip tightened in his hair, a silent urging to go deeper. Sunghoon obliged, relaxing his throat as he slid more of Ni-ki's cock inside, the girth stretching his mouth wide. He gagged slightly when the head bumped the back of his throat, but he pushed through, breathing through his nose to maintain the rhythm. 

“Fuck, that's it,” Ni-ki murmured, his voice strained as he watched Sunghoon's lips stretch around him. The sight was intoxicating—Sunghoon's eyes watering just a bit, his tongue pressing flat against the underside as he bobbed his head. Ni-ki's free hand braced against the wall behind him, his muscles tensing with the effort to stay still. But the heat building in his core was relentless, urging him to take more control.

Sunghoon built the pace gradually, his mouth working Ni-ki's cock with increasing fervor. He alternated between deep throating, taking him all the way until his nose brushed Ni-ki's pubic bone, and pulling back to lavish attention on the head with quick, sucking pops. 

Saliva coated everything, slick sounds filling the room as he slurped and moaned around the thickness. His own cock throbbed painfully in his pants, ignored for now as he focused on pleasuring Ni-ki, on erasing the pain with every devoted stroke.

Ni-ki couldn't hold back anymore. With a low growl, he thrust his hips forward, fucking into Sunghoon's mouth in shallow pumps. Sunghoon's hands gripped Ni-ki's thighs for balance, nails digging into the fabric as he let Ni-ki use him. The dominance sent a thrill through him, mixing with the emotional rawness to heighten every sensation. Ni-ki's cock slid in and out, hitting the back of his throat repeatedly, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the intensity.

“Take it all,” Ni-ki demanded, his pace quickening. He watched as strings of spit connected Sunghoon's lips to his shaft each time he pulled back, the messiness only fueling his arousal. Sunghoon's tongue never stopped moving, flicking against the frenulum on every upstroke, making Ni-ki's knees weaken. The room echoed with wet, obscene noises—gags, slurps, and Ni-ki's increasingly desperate grunts.

Sunghoon reached up, cupping Ni-ki's balls in one hand, rolling them gently as he sucked harder. The added stimulation drew a sharp curse from Ni-ki, his thrusts becoming erratic. He was close, the pressure coiling tight in his gut, but he wanted to draw it out, to savor the power Sunghoon was giving him. “Deeper,” he rasped, pushing Sunghoon's head down until his cock was buried to the hilt, holding him there for a few agonizing seconds.

Sunghoon's throat convulsed around him, milking the length as he fought for air. When Ni-ki finally released him, Sunghoon gasped, coughing lightly before diving back in with renewed hunger. He hollowed his cheeks even more, sucking with a vacuum-like pressure that had Ni-ki's toes curling. His hand twisted at the base, syncing with the bobs of his head, while his other hand teased lower, pressing a finger against Ni-ki's perineum.

The dual assault pushed Ni-ki to the edge. “Shit, Hyung—your mouth feels so fucking good,” he panted, his hips snapping forward. Sunghoon moaned in response, the vibration traveling straight through Ni-ki's cock, intensifying the pleasure. He could feel the veins pulsing against his tongue, the shaft swelling as release neared.

But Ni-ki pulled back suddenly, denying himself just a moment longer. He stroked himself lazily, his fingers wrapping around the slick shaft, sliding up and down in slow, deliberate pumps. The wetness from Sunghoon's mouth coated his cock completely, making each glide smooth and shiny, the skin glistening under the dim light. 

He smeared the saliva further, twisting his wrist at the top to rub the precum and spit mixture over the swollen head, teasing the sensitive slit with his thumb. A low groan escaped his lips as the friction sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, but he kept his movements unhurried, savoring the control. 

Sunghoon knelt there, his knees pressing into the hard floor, lips swollen and red from the earlier sucking, a thin trail of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes locked onto Ni-ki's, wide with raw need, pupils dilated and breath coming in short pants. The vulnerability in his gaze only fueled Ni-ki's dominance, making his cock twitch in his hand.

“Lick my balls,” Ni-ki commanded, his voice a rough whisper laced with authority. He guided Sunghoon's face lower with a firm hand on the back of his head, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair. 

Sunghoon didn't hesitate, leaning forward eagerly, his hot breath fanning over Ni-ki's heavy sac first. His tongue darted out, flat and wet, lapping at the taut skin in broad, slow strokes. He started from the base, dragging upward along the seam, tasting the musky saltiness mixed with his own saliva. 

Ni-ki's thighs tensed, the sensation making his balls draw up slightly, but he spread his legs wider for better access, his free hand bracing against the wall.

Sunghoon hummed softly, the vibration rumbling against Ni-ki's skin as he pressed his lips to one ball, kissing it lightly before opening his mouth to suck it in. He pulled gently, his cheeks hollowing as he created a warm, wet suction, tongue swirling around the orb inside his mouth. He rolled it carefully, feeling the weight and texture, the fine hairs tickling his lips. Ni-ki's breath hitched, his stroking hand faltering for a second as pleasure shot through him. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he murmured, watching Sunghoon's head bob slightly, devoted to the task.

After a minute, Sunghoon released the first ball with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the damp skin. He immediately turned to the other, sucking it into his mouth with the same tender pulls, his tongue pressing and flicking against it. He alternated between sucking and licking, sometimes nuzzling his nose into the crease where thigh met groin, inhaling Ni-ki's scent deeply. 

His hand never stopped its work on Ni-ki's cock, pumping steadily now, fingers tight around the base and sliding up to just below the head before twisting back down. The rhythm was hypnotic, up and down, slick sounds accompanying each stroke, while his mouth lavished attention below.

Ni-ki's control frayed at the edges, the dual sensations overwhelming. The firm grip on his shaft milked him rhythmically, veins pulsing under Sunghoon's palm, while the hot, teasing mouth on his balls sent jolts straight to his core. He thrust shallowly into Sunghoon's hand, unable to stay completely still, his hips rocking forward in small increments. 

“Deeper with your tongue,” Ni-ki ordered, pushing Sunghoon's face closer. Sunghoon complied, extending his tongue to trace lower, lapping at the sensitive spot behind the balls, pressing flat against the perineum. He sucked harder on the sac as a whole now, pulling both balls into his mouth briefly, stretching his lips wide around them, humming vibrations that made Ni-ki's knees buckle slightly.

Sweat beaded on Ni-ki's forehead, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to cum right then. Sunghoon's eagerness was intoxicating, his tongue working tirelessly, licking in circles, sucking with varying pressure, sometimes grazing his teeth ever so lightly for that edge of sensation. 

The hand on the cock sped up, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke to collect more precum, using it to lubricate the length. Ni-ki's balls tightened further under the assault, drawing up as the pleasure built layer by layer. He released his own grip, letting Sunghoon take full control of stroking him, which only heightened the intimacy.

Sunghoon sensed the shift, his pumps becoming more insistent, twisting at the base to squeeze gently, feeling the throb of Ni-ki's arousal. He pulled back from the balls just enough to blow cool air over the wet skin, making Ni-ki shiver, before diving back in. 

His lips sealed around one ball again, sucking rhythmically in time with his hand's strokes—suck, pump, suck, pump. The wet slurps and soft moans from Sunghoon filled the air, mixing with Ni-ki's ragged breathing. He reached up with his free hand, fingers trailing over Ni-ki's inner thigh, nails scratching lightly to add another layer of stimulation.

Minutes stretched on, the teasing drawing out Ni-ki's endurance to its limit. His cock leaked steadily now, a steady drip of precum that Sunghoon smeared with each stroke, making everything slippery and loud. The balls were thoroughly soaked, shining with saliva, and Sunghoon's chin glistened from the effort. He alternated pressures—gentle laps turning into firm sucks, then back to feather-light kisses—keeping Ni-ki on the edge without tipping him over. Ni-ki's hand tightened in Sunghoon's hair, not pulling yet, just holding as his body tensed.

“Enough,” Ni-ki finally said, his voice hoarse and strained, barely above a whisper. The word came out like a growl, laced with desperation. He hauled Sunghoon back up by the hair, the pull firm but not painful, guiding his face level with his cock. 

Sunghoon's eyes met his, filled with hunger, lips parted and ready. Without another word, Ni-ki shoved his cock back into that eager mouth, the head sliding past the plush lips and over the waiting tongue. Sunghoon sealed around him immediately, sucking hard as Ni-ki thrust forward, burying half his length in one go.

This time, there was no holding back. Ni-ki's hips snapped forward in deep, relentless thrusts, the head of his cock battering the back of Sunghoon's throat on every plunge. Sunghoon gagged at first, the sudden depth making his eyes water, but he relaxed quickly, opening his throat to take it. 

His hands gripped Ni-ki's thighs, fingers digging into the muscle for leverage as he braced himself. Ni-ki set a brutal pace, pulling out until just the tip remained between Sunghoon's lips, then slamming back in, balls slapping against Sunghoon's chin with each impact.

The room echoed with the wet, obscene sounds—gags turning into muffled moans as Sunghoon adjusted, his throat convulsing around the invading shaft. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the force, mixing with the saliva that bubbled at the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto his shirt. 

Ni-ki watched it all, the sight of Sunghoon's face flushed and messy pushing him harder. “Fuck your throat,” he grunted, one hand on the wall for balance, the other controlling Sunghoon's head, pushing him down to meet each thrust.

Sunghoon's tongue pressed flat against the underside, rubbing along the vein with every slide in and out, adding friction that made Ni-ki's vision blur. He hollowed his cheeks on the withdrawals, creating suction that pulled at the cock like a vice, then relaxed to let it plunge deep again. 

His own arousal strained against his pants, but he ignored it, focused entirely on Ni-ki's pleasure. Ni-ki varied the thrusts—sometimes shallow and fast, teasing the head against his tongue, then deep and slow, grinding against the back of the throat until Sunghoon choked.

Ni-ki's pace quickened, hips pistoning faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder. Sunghoon's gags softened into eager slurps, his body rocking with the force, knees shifting on the floor. He reached one hand up to fondle Ni-ki's balls again, rolling them in his palm, tugging lightly to heighten the build-up. The other hand braced behind him for stability. Ni-ki's grunts filled the air, low and animalistic, his abs clenching with each drive. 

“Take it deeper,” he demanded, forcing Sunghoon's nose to brush his pubic bone, holding there as the throat milked him rhythmically.

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered, tears flowing freely now, but he didn't pull away, humming vibrations around the buried cock. When Ni-ki pulled out, Sunghoon gasped for air, coughing wetly before Ni-ki thrust back in, fucking through the recovery. Strings of spit connected them each time, thick and messy, coating Ni-ki's shaft and Sunghoon's chin. 

The intensity built, Ni-ki's thrusts erratic, chasing the peak. He angled his hips to hit different spots, dragging along the roof of the mouth, then straight down the throat.

Sweat slicked both their bodies, Ni-ki's shirt clinging to his chest as he pounded relentlessly. Sunghoon's moans vibrated constantly now, sending shocks through Ni-ki's length. He squeezed the balls harder, feeling them tighten, knowing release was close. Ni-ki's hand in the hair yanked sharper, controlling the depth, making Sunghoon's head bob in time. The pressure coiled in Ni-ki's gut, hot and insistent, every thrust pushing him nearer.

He slowed for a moment, drawing it out, shallow thrusts that let Sunghoon lick and suck the head, tongue swirling around the ridge. Then back to full force, slamming in until his balls pressed tight against Sunghoon's skin. Sunghoon's throat worked overtime, swallowing around the intrusion, pulling more pleasure from Ni-ki. The tears on Sunghoon's face glistened, his expression one of pure submission and bliss.

Ni-ki's orgasm built like a tidal wave, slow at first, then crashing over him without mercy. His thrusts stuttered, hips jerking as the first spurt erupted deep in Sunghoon's throat. 

“Swallow it,” he growled, voice breaking, burying himself to the hilt. Hot ropes of cum shot out, thick and pulsing, coating the throat walls. 

Sunghoon gulped greedily, his swallowing muscles contracting around the cock, milking every drop with rhythmic squeezes. He didn't spill a bit, throat working overtime to take it all down, even as Ni-ki shuddered through the waves.

Ni-ki held him there, grinding shallowly as the aftershocks rippled, more cum leaking out in smaller bursts. Sunghoon's tongue lapped at the underside, encouraging it all, until Ni-ki's hand loosened in his hair. He pulled out slowly, the softening cock dragging over lips and tongue, a final spurt landing on Sunghoon's waiting tongue. Sunghoon swallowed that too, licking his lips clean, eyes locked upward in sated devotion. Ni-ki panted, body trembling from the release, the dominance easing into a possessive afterglow.

Sunghoon licked his lips clean, looking up at Ni-ki with a mix of satisfaction and lingering vulnerability. The emotional scars still lingered, but in that moment, the intimacy had bridged them, if only temporarily. Ni-ki pulled him up into a bruising kiss, tasting himself on Sunghoon's mouth, the dominance softening into something almost tender.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sunghoon couldn't shake Ni-ki’s confession about the lost friends. He realized he had been deeply selfish six years ago, and Ni-ki was now weaponizing that guilt to control him. This wasn't just about rent; it was about emotional jurisdiction.

The next day, Ni-ki was gone for a high-profile photoshoot, leaving Sunghoon alone. Sunghoon used the time not for rest, but for a calculated, aggressive move.

He wasn't trying to confess or apologize; he was trying to assert his rights as a co-tenant. The apartment was vast and cold, but the small room he rented was still his, and he was determined to use it as an anchor of independence.

He called Jake. "Hey, Jake. I need a favor. Can you come over tonight? I need to use your corporate printer for some gallery documents—mine is still packed. Around seven? I'll buy you coffee."

"Oh, thank god," Jake sighed. "Is he being creepy? I was worried after last time."

"It's fine," Sunghoon lied, his voice tight. "Just... pretend you're only here for the printing. He’s territorial, but I pay the lease. I won't let him dictate who I conduct business with."

This was a reckless move. Sunghoon was deliberately provoking Ni-ki, but framing it as a matter of professional necessity and equal tenancy rights—a challenge Ni-ki couldn't easily dismiss as mere jealousy.

Jake arrived at 7 PM. They settled at the small dining table adjacent to Sunghoon’s room, a flurry of papers and Sunghoon’s laptop spread out. Sunghoon explained the printing need, but they quickly devolved into easy, familiar gossip, the air filled with the relaxed intimacy only old friends shared.

Sunghoon was about to launch into his prepared speech about the accidental reunion and the tense atmosphere when the front door latch clicked. Ni-ki, hours ahead of his expected return from the set, walked in.

He stopped dead just inside the doorway, his eyes taking in the scene: Jake operating the massive, industrial-looking printer that Sunghoon had 'borrowed' from a friend and placed right in the common area, Sunghoon calm and confident, and the air of casual business filling the space.

Ni-ki was wearing a sleek, black leather jacket over a tight, dark shirt—looking every bit the intimidating international model, his travel bags still slung over one shoulder. The sheer, hostile difference between his exhausted, predatory aura and Jake’s focused, casual presence was jarring.

Jake immediately stood up, sensing the shift in the air, his hand slightly raised. "Riki. Hey. Sorry, I'm just here talking to Sunghoon about work."

Ni-ki didn't look at Jake. His gaze was glued to Sunghoon, and the fury was cold, not hot. It was a terrifying, controlled anger.

"You brought a commercial operation into my residence," Ni-ki stated, his voice dangerously even, ignoring Jake completely. "The lease is explicitly clear, Sunghoon-ssi. This space is for residential use only. You are running a business from my home."

Sunghoon stood up, meeting the challenge. "It's a printer, Riki. I'm printing documents. I'm a tenant; I have a right to conduct basic work."

"The agreement is not a right, it is a privilege," Ni-ki corrected, his voice dropping. "And this privilege is contingent on not disrupting my environment with your outside noise." He finally shifted his gaze to Jake, a brutal assessment in his dark eyes. "I need to speak to my tenant. Alone."

Jake, seeing the raw, hostile power radiating off Ni-ki, backed away immediately, gathering his bag and the printed papers. "Right. Okay. I get it. I'll see you at the gallery, Hoon. Call me."

Sunghoon let Jake leave. He didn't try to stop him; he needed the confrontation. He needed to push Ni-ki past the point of petty dominance and force him to acknowledge the true, desperate tension between them.

The door clicked shut, leaving the heavy silence of the loft around them.

"This is not a game of co-habitation, Sunghoon," Ni-ki finally said, dropping his bags and walking toward him slowly, like a predator tracking prey. "You broke the rule. The consequence isn't eviction. You know the cost."

"The cost is what?" Sunghoon challenged, folding his arms. The challenge felt suicidal, but necessary. "That you 'punish' me with sex? That you remind me that you're bigger and stronger than I am? That you're going to take all your anger out on me for being a normal tenant?"

Ni-ki stopped just inches from him, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and intense longing. "No. The cost is that you deliberately force a confrontation where I am the one with absolute power. You tried to prove your independence by violating my space, and you failed."

He grabbed Sunghoon’s arms, pulling him hard against his chest. "I don't punish you, Sunghoon. I claim you. You want me to stop being territorial? Then give me a reason to trust you. Make me your priority here."

His hands were rough, possessive, and instantly moved to strip Sunghoon's shirt from his body. The confrontation dissolved into raw physical aggression, driven not by lust alone, but by a desperate need to re-establish emotional priority.

"You will not use my home to run your other life," Ni-ki growled, his mouth slamming onto Sunghoon’s. "You will not hide this from your friends. This is the truth, Sunghoon. You need me more than you need your lease. And you will feel it until it's the only truth you can think about."

Ni-ki drove him backward, not toward the stairs, but against the solid, cold surface of the kitchen island—the site of their previous, charged physical touch. He claimed Sunghoon with furious, punishing urgency, demanding every inch of surrender. The dominance was absolute, but the verbal commands were all focused on priority and belonging.

"Say my name!" Ni-ki ordered, his voice raw. "Say you prefer this to your soft, quiet life! Say you want me!"

Sunghoon was overwhelmed, but in the heat of his surrender, he finally realized the key: Ni-ki wasn't trying to hurt him. Ni-ki was trying to secure him.

"Ni-ki," Sunghoon gasped, clutching the younger man's shoulders, "I want you. I choose you."

The admission, spoken in the throes of their violent intimacy, was the turning point. Ni-ki paused, his intensity momentarily breaking. He looked down at Sunghoon, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Say it again," he commanded, his voice shaking slightly.

"I choose you," Sunghoon repeated, his voice stronger now.

Ni-ki didn't punish him further. Instead, he pulled Sunghoon into a fierce, suffocating embrace, clinging to him desperately. He wasn't the model or the landlord; he was the scared, abandoned boy who finally felt chosen.

The aftermath was quiet, intimate, and profoundly different from their previous encounters. Ni-ki didn't jump up and return to his emails. He stayed, spooning Sunghoon tightly on the small bed, his chin resting on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

"Why did you say that?" Ni-ki whispered, his breath warm against Sunghoon's ear.

"Because it’s true," Sunghoon admitted, his voice tired. "I came here because of money, but I stayed because of this. Well not this this” Sunghoon adds as he lightly laughs at what he thought. 

“You didn't stop being Riki when you got… big. You just got bigger and harder to handle. And I realized that running away from 'too much' was the mistake."

He reached back, threading his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Ni-ki’s neck. "You're right about our friends, Riki. I isolated you. I was selfish. And I’ve been lying to them about you because I’m scared to admit how much I need this... this intensity."

Ni-ki stiffened slightly at the use of his old name, but he didn't correct him. He just held Sunghoon tighter.

"You have to stop hiding me, Sunghoon," Ni-ki said finally, his voice firming up. "If you want me to stop punishing you, if you want me to stop being the landlord and the tyrant, then you have to stop treating me like a mistake. You have to integrate me into your life."

"How?" Sunghoon asked.

"Start small," Ni-ki instructed. "You called Jake over to talk about me. You were going to explain things. Explain them. Tell him that we're living together and that we have a history. You don't have to talk about the rent or... everything else. Just acknowledge me."

He pulled back, his intense eyes searching Sunghoon's face. "The payment is no longer just compliance in bed, Sunghoon. The payment is honesty. Prove that you choose me publicly, and I will stop acting like I have to fight everyone for you."

This was the pivotal shift. Ni-ki was setting a boundary rooted in emotional need. He was offering a path toward the wholesome connection Sunghoon wanted, but the price was exposure and vulnerability.

Sunghoon knew this was terrifying. If he admitted the truth, he risked losing the sympathetic ear of his friends, and possibly their support if they saw the intense, unequal nature of his relationship with Ni-ki. But he couldn't keep lying.

"Okay," Sunghoon agreed, nodding slowly. "I'll call Jake. I'll tell them."

Ni-ki smiled then, a genuine, soft curve of his lips that banished the model's cold facade entirely. He looked like the boy Sunghoon had loved, only bigger.

He leaned down and kissed Sunghoon. It was a gentle kiss, tender and slow, completely devoid of the usual power play. It was the first kiss that felt like a connection, not a claim.

"Good," Ni-ki whispered, pulling the blanket up around them both. "Now sleep, Hyung. And tomorrow, we stop being a secret."

He held Sunghoon close, his powerful body a protective shell rather than a prison. Sunghoon drifted off to sleep, feeling safe for the first time since he moved into the loft. He knew the fight was far from over, but at least now, they were fighting for the same goal: each other.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Sunghoon woke up to an empty bed the next morning. Ni-ki had already left for a local shoot, leaving a hastily written note taped to the bathroom mirror: Call Jake. Tell him the truth. I’ll check in at noon.

The message was demanding, but the tone felt less like a threat and more like a pivotal, high-stakes dare.

Sunghoon spent the morning pacing, rehearsing the conversation. He knew his friends were only asking one question: Why is the man we knew as 'little Riki' acting like he owns you? The answer required admitting his own long-held secrets.

At 11:30 AM, he called Jake.

"Hey, Hoon! Are you okay? Did Riki cause any more drama? Sunoo and Jungwon are still talking about how intense he was," Jake asked immediately, his voice thick with concern.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, clutching the phone tightly. "I'm fine, Jake. Look, I need to apologize for last night. And I need to be completely honest about Riki."

"Okay... hit me. We already know he’s Riki. The question is, why are you lying, and why is he acting like a jealous warden?"

Sunghoon leaned against the cold kitchen island, using the solid surface to ground himself. "That's exactly what I need to talk about. This...everything that’s happening, it's not just professional. It's personal, and it's mostly my fault."

"When Riki and I broke up six years ago, I was cruel. I didn't just end it, I completely cut him out, and I let the distance happen with the rest of you, too. I pushed him away, Jake. I made him feel disposable, like he was the mistake I needed to hide."

Jake was silent for a long moment. "Hoon, we tried calling him! He blocked us! We felt bad, but we weren't the ones who abandoned him."

"I know," Sunghoon admitted. "But he came back, and the second he saw me, he put up that defensive wall. He's been operating from a place of resentment. He’s been testing my commitment by demanding I prioritize him over everything, including my friends."

He paused, then delivered the final, terrifying truth. "And Jake... since I’ve moved in... we’re kind of together again. It’s complicated, messy, and I’m sorry I hid it, but he was right. I couldn’t keep pretending he was just a bad landlord."

Jake sighed, a heavy, frustrated sound."I’m glad you told me. But he is leveraging your desperation to get his way emotionally."

"I know," Sunghoon whispered. "But he gave me a choice this morning. He said if I stopped hiding him—if I acknowledged our relationship to you—he would stop the emotional warfare. He said the currency now is honesty, not compliance."

"Well, you paid," Jake replied, sounding immensely relieved. "We're still here, Hoon. We're worried, but we're here for both of you. Just promise me you won't let him isolate you again, okay? We want Riki back, but not at the cost of losing you."

"I promise," Sunghoon replied, relief flooding him.

Exactly at noon, his phone buzzed. It was an incoming video call. Sunghoon answered immediately.

Ni-ki's face filled the screen. He was sitting in a makeup chair, a stylist adjusting his collar, but his eyes were focused entirely on Sunghoon.

"Well?" Ni-ki asked, his voice low, testing the waters.

"I called Jake," Sunghoon confirmed. "I told him about our history and that we're back together. He understands the tension now, but he's worried."

Ni-ki's expression was unreadable for a moment, then a slow, deep breath escaped his lips. The strain seemed to visibly ease from his face.

"Thank you, Hyung," he said, the genuine gratitude striking a chord in Sunghoon’s chest. "That means... that means a lot. More than you know."

He paused, then added, softer: "Tell him thank you for not condemning me."

"He doesn't condemn you, Riki. He missed you," Sunghoon corrected, using the old name again.

Ni-ki smiled, a genuine, beautiful expression that lit up his face. "Okay. I have to go shoot. But tonight, we talk. No games. No power plays. Just us, hmm?”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Ni-ki arrived home late that evening, not slamming the door or dropping his bag, but quietly setting his things down. He walked up to the loft, where Sunghoon was reading, and simply sat on the floor beside the bed, resting his elbows on the mattress.

He had changed out of his fashion clothes into a soft, grey hoodie and sweatpants—the kind of clothes the old Riki used to wear.

"I'm sorry," Ni-ki said immediately, his voice low and serious. "I owe you that. I'm sorry for being an asshole, for using the rent, and for letting my anger turn into... that. It wasn't about the money or the rent, Sunghoon. It was about making you feel as trapped and controlled as I felt when you left."

Sunghoon put his book down, his heart aching for the vulnerable man sitting beside him. "I know, Riki. And I need to apologize too. I was a coward. I was afraid of how much you needed me, and I was terrified of being the center of that intensity. When I left, I didn't just leave you; I abandoned the part of myself that liked being needed that much. And letting you vanish from everyone’s life was cruel."

Ni-ki reached out, his hand resting tentatively on the edge of the mattress. "Why did you call it 'too much'?"

"Because you were growing so fast," Sunghoon explained, his voice thick with the memory. "I felt like I was holding you back, trying to keep you small and mine. You were always moving, always needing more, and I was stagnant. It felt easier to cut the cord completely than to admit I was scared of your potential."

"My potential was always for you, Hyung," Ni-ki whispered, looking up at him with deep sincerity. "I used the dance, the modeling, the height—it was all just to make myself big enough to be worth keeping. And then when I finally did, I came back and saw you struggling, and the first thought wasn't 'Help him,' it was, 'Now he has to stay.'"

He looked down at his hands, ashamed. "I was an asshole. I used my body and my success to leverage it against you because it was the only way I knew how to stop you from leaving."

Sunghoon slid off the bed, kneeling on the rug in front of Ni-ki. He placed his hands over Ni-ki's. The contact was gentle, completely devoid of sexual demand.

"We both hurt each other," Sunghoon concluded. "But we can stop playing the landlord and the tenant. We can just be Riki and Sunghoon again."

Ni-ki’s eyes were wet, but he smiled, a fragile, hopeful smile. "I don't know how to stop being the one in control, Hyung. I'm terrified of letting you go."

“Then don’t let go,” Sunghoon said quietly, squeezing his hands once. “But we need to change what this is. Not landlord and tenant. Not favors and payment. Just… us.”

He leaned in until their foreheads touched, the gesture steady, unforced.

“I’ll pay my part of the rent,” he continued. “Not because I’m leaving or pulling away, but because I want things to be equal. And you—” he paused, searching Ni-ki’s eyes, “—you don’t have to stop being who you are. I’m not asking you to shrink. I just can’t take it when it’s fueled by resentment.”

Ni-ki’s breath hitched, eyes flicking up in something like disbelief.
“You still want that side of me?”

Sunghoon pulled back just enough to see his expression clearly.

“I do,” he admitted simply. “But I want the version of it that comes from wanting me… not from trying to keep me.”

Ni-ki swallowed hard, the admission hitting deeper than he expected.

“And the tenderness?” Sunghoon added, softer now. “I need that, too. The part where you hold me because you want to, not because you think you’re supposed to own me.”

Ni-ki pulled him close instantly, burying his face in Sunghoon's neck, the movement still possessive, but now gentle. "I can do that, Hyung. I can do the intensity, and I can do the tenderness, whatever you want."

They spent the rest of the evening talking, sharing simple comfort. Ni-ki told Sunghoon about his travels, the loneliness of hotel rooms, and the pressure of the model life. Sunghoon talked about his passion for the art gallery and his dreams of becoming a curator.

Later that evening, after their heartfelt conversation had woven them closer together, Sunghoon and Ni-ki finally retreated to the master suite. The room felt like a sanctuary now, the king-sized bed with its crisp white sheets inviting them in, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the walls. Ni-ki's hand lingered at the small of Sunghoon's back as they entered, a gentle guide rather than a claim, his touch light and reassuring.

They stood facing each other at the foot of the bed, the air between them charged with a new kind of anticipation—not the tense, electric dominance of before, but something deeper, laced with vulnerability and trust. Ni-ki reached out first, cupping Sunghoon's face in his large hands, thumbs brushing softly over his cheekbones. His eyes searched Sunghoon's, dark and intense, but softened by an unspoken question: Is this okay?

Sunghoon nodded, his own hands rising to rest on Ni-ki's chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, and that single word unlocked everything.

Ni-ki leaned in slowly, their lips meeting in a kiss that started tender but quickly deepened into something consuming. His mouth moved against Sunghoon's with a hunger born of love, not conquest—lips parting, tongues sliding together in a slow, exploratory dance. Sunghoon sighed into it, his fingers curling into Ni-ki's shirt as he pressed closer, tasting the faint salt of earlier tears and the sweetness of shared confessions. Ni-ki's hands slid down to Sunghoon's neck, then his shoulders, pulling him in without force, just a firm, loving hold that made Sunghoon's knees weaken.

The kiss grew messier as passion built, saliva mingling as their tongues tangled more urgently. Ni-ki nipped at Sunghoon's lower lip, drawing a soft gasp, then soothed it with a lick, his breath hot and ragged against Sunghoon's skin. “I want you,” Ni-ki murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, but he paused, eyes locking with Sunghoon's again for that silent permission.

Sunghoon's response was to tug at Ni-ki's shirt, pulling it up and over his head in a fluid motion, exposing the sculpted planes of his chest and abs, still faintly marked from their earlier intensity. He traced his fingers over the ridges, admiring the way Ni-ki's muscles tensed under his touch. Ni-ki mirrored him, stripping Sunghoon's shirt away with careful hands, then drawing him back into another kiss, their bare torsos pressing together, skin heating where they connected.

They sank onto the bed, Ni-ki guiding Sunghoon down onto the mattress with a gentleness that belied his size. He hovered over him, bracing on his elbows to avoid crushing him, and trailed kisses down Sunghoon's jaw, neck, and collarbone—each one deliberate, sucking lightly to leave faint marks of affection rather than possession. Sunghoon arched into it, his hands roaming Ni-ki's back, nails grazing just enough to elicit a low groan from the younger man.

Ni-ki's mouth continued its descent, lips brushing over Sunghoon's chest, tongue flicking at a nipple until it hardened into a peak. He sucked gently, then harder when Sunghoon moaned, the sound vibrating through both of them. “Tell me if it's too much,” Ni-ki whispered, lifting his head to check, his eyes earnest.

“It's perfect,” Sunghoon breathed, pulling Ni-ki back up for another deep kiss, their hips aligning as arousal stirred between them. He could feel Ni-ki's cock hardening against his thigh through their pants, thick and insistent, and his own erection throbbed in response, straining against the fabric.

With mutual nods, they shed the rest of their clothes—pants and underwear kicked aside hastily, leaving them fully exposed to each other. Ni-ki's gaze raked over Sunghoon's body appreciatively, not predatory but reverent, his hand stroking down Sunghoon's side to his hip. He reached for the lube on the nightstand, slicking his fingers generously before settling between Sunghoon's legs.

“Can I?” Ni-ki asked, his voice husky, holding Sunghoon's gaze as he circled his entrance with a fingertip.

Sunghoon spread his thighs wider, nodding eagerly. “Please.”

Ni-ki pushed in slowly, one finger breaching the tight ring of muscle with careful twists and thrusts, watching Sunghoon's face for any sign of discomfort. Sunghoon relaxed into it, his breath hitching as Ni-ki added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch him open. The burn was there, but it melted into pleasure as Ni-ki curled his fingers, brushing against that sensitive spot inside that made Sunghoon cry out, his cock leaking pre-cum onto his stomach.

“You're so beautiful like this,” Ni-ki said softly, leaning down to kiss him again while his fingers worked deeper, preparing him with patient strokes. Sunghoon rocked back against them, moaning into Ni-ki's mouth, the intimacy of the moment making his chest ache with emotion.

When Sunghoon was ready—loose and panting, begging with his eyes—Ni-ki withdrew his fingers and coated his own cock with lube, the thick length glistening as he positioned himself. He pushed in inch by inch, pausing to let Sunghoon adjust, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling. “I love how you feel around me,” Ni-ki groaned as he bottomed out, fully sheathed in Sunghoon's heat, the tight clench pulling a shudder from him.

Sunghoon wrapped his legs around Ni-ki's waist, urging him to move. Ni-ki did, starting with slow, deep thrusts that filled him completely each time, his hips rolling in a rhythm that hit every nerve. The bed creaked softly under them, the sounds of skin slapping skin mixing with their gasps and moans. Ni-ki's hand found Sunghoon's cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, thumb swiping over the slick head to spread the pre-cum.

“Harder,” Sunghoon whispered, and Ni-ki obliged, picking up the pace but never losing that layer of care—checking in with a kiss, a murmured “You good?” that Sunghoon answered with a fervent nod and a pull closer.

The pleasure built steadily, coiling tight in Sunghoon's core as Ni-ki's cock dragged against his prostate with each plunge, relentless yet loving. Sweat slicked their bodies, making every slide smoother, more intense. Sunghoon's hand fisted in Ni-ki's hair, their mouths crashing together in a sloppy, desperate kiss as the edge approached.

“Come for me, Hyung,” Ni-ki urged, his voice breaking as he thrust deeper, his own release hovering close. Sunghoon shattered first, crying out Ni-ki's name as his cock pulsed in Ni-ki's grip, ropes of cum spilling hot across his stomach and chest. The sight and feel of it—Sunghoon clenching around him—pushed Ni-ki over, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and came, flooding Sunghoon with warmth, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips.

They rode out the aftershocks together, Ni-ki collapsing gently onto Sunghoon, careful not to crush him, their bodies still joined as they caught their breath. Slowly, Ni-ki pulled out, a trickle of cum following, and gathered Sunghoon into his arms, cradling him against his chest on the rumpled sheets. He pressed soft kisses to Sunghoon's temple, his hair, whispering endearments in the quiet.

Sunghoon felt utterly safe, cherished in a way he'd craved, his body sated and his heart full. Ni-ki's hold was protective, not confining—a warm enclosure that spoke of choice and equality.

“I love you, Hyung,” Ni-ki whispered into the darkness, the words fragile yet unbreakable, carrying the weight of their renewed promise.

“I love you too, Riki,” Sunghoon replied, turning to nuzzle into his neck, the confession tasting like freedom at last.

The weight of the past had finally lifted, replaced by the solid, tender anchor of their love. They had moved from a toxic contract to a renewed commitment, and the final step waited: bringing their friends back into this healed world they were building together.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The day after their emotionally and physically charged talk, the atmosphere in the loft was profoundly altered. Ni-ki was still physically possessive, instinctively resting his heavy hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder or hip when they were near.

Sunghoon, determined to honor his promise of honesty, took the lead in arranging the reunion.

"We need to see them all, Riki," Sunghoon stated one afternoon, leaning against the kitchen counter while Ni-ki made them lunch. "Not just Jake. All of them. We need to face them together and explain what happened, and what's happening now."

Ni-ki paused, chopping vegetables, his large hands suddenly still. He looked terrified. "All of them? Heeseung-hyung and Jay-hyung especially. They were always the most protective of you."

"Exactly," Sunghoon confirmed. "They need to hear it from us, together. It’s the only way to stop being a secret and to prove to them—and to yourself—that you’re not a mistake I'm hiding anymore."

Ni-ki nodded slowly, his expression determined. "Okay. I'll do it. But you have to tell me what to say. I don't remember how to talk to them without being a jerk."

Sunghoon smiled, reaching out to gently touch the younger man’s arm. "Just be Riki. The talented, passionate, loyal Riki they missed. I'll handle the hard parts."

They arranged a dinner for the following Friday at a bustling, neutral restaurant downtown. The atmosphere was awkward from the moment Ni-ki, towering and imposing in a simple black sweater, walked into the private room alongside Sunghoon.

The room contained Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. The initial silence was deafening.

"Riki," Heeseung said, his voice cautious. "It’s... been a long time."

"Hello, Hyungs," Ni-ki replied, his voice unexpectedly soft, lacking the cold edge he used in the loft. He bowed deeply, showing respect for the group he'd left. "I'm sorry for vanishing. And I'm sorry for last week, Jake-hyung."

Jake waved his hand awkwardly. "It's fine, Riki. We need to talk."

Sunghoon squeezed Ni-ki’s hand reassuringly under the table and took the lead.

"I called you all here because Riki and I owe you an explanation," Sunghoon began, his gaze sweeping over his worried friends. "Six years ago, I ended things with Riki because I was immature and scared of his intensity and how much he needed me. I handled the breakup badly, and Riki felt completely cut off and abandoned by the entire group. That's on me."

"When I moved into his apartment two months ago, it was a complete surprise," Sunghoon continued, pausing to look at Ni-ki, whose hand tightened in response. "The tension was immediate. We both had six years of resentment, confusion, and desperate need bottled up. Riki acted out by being territorial and dominant, using his success and his apartment to control me. He was trying to prevent me from leaving again."

"And Sunghoon," Ni-ki interjected, finally finding his voice, "he acted out by trying to keep me a secret, proving that he didn't trust me or believe in me enough to show you guys that I'd grown up. I was angry and selfish. I used my power to take what I wanted, instead of earning it back."

Sunoo, the quietest, finally spoke up, his voice tight. "So, what are you saying, Hoon? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to stay there because of the money?"

"No," Sunghoon said firmly, reaching for Ni-ki’s hand, lacing their fingers together publicly for the first time. "We've talked. We've apologized. We've cleaned up the toxic parts of the contract. I'm paying my full share of the rent now, and we're officially dating again. We’re taking it slow, no labels yet, and we’re working on communication. But this," he held up their joined hands, "this is based on partnership and love now. Not payment."

Jay frowned, still skeptical. "Riki, you're enormous now, man. And you were always intense. How are we supposed to believe you’re not just bullying him?"

Ni-ki looked directly at Jay, his large, dark eyes earnest. "I know, Hyung. I used my size to intimidate him because I was scared. But I love Sunghoon. I always did. I just didn't know how to show him that I could be strong and gentle. I promise, I will respect Sunghoon’s pacing. And I’ll respect his right to leave if I mess up."

Heeseung, the eldest, smiled sadly. "Look, we missed you, Riki. All of us. We thought the relationship ended because you weren't ready for that kind of intensity. We didn't know Sunghoon pushed you away because he was scared of it. Just... don't disappear on us again. And Riki, if you hurt him, you have five very angry hyungs who know where you live now."

Ni-ki nodded, a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes. "I understand. I promise. I won't disappear."

The rest of the evening melted into laughter and shared memories. They talked about Ni-ki's modeling career, his demanding travel schedule, and his plans to start his own dance studio. The wounds weren't fully healed, but the communication was open, and the connection was restored. Ni-ki was finally back in the fold.

When they finally arrived back at the loft, exhausted but exhilarated, Sunghoon felt lighter than he had in years. They had survived the biggest obstacle: the world outside the loft.

"That was... terrifying," Ni-ki admitted, dropping his keys onto the island.

"But you were great," Sunghoon praised him, walking over and wrapping his arms around Ni-ki’s torso. "You were honest, Riki. That's all they needed."

Ni-ki turned in the circle of Sunghoon's arms, his expression still soft from the evening's vulnerability. He rested his forehead against Sunghoon’s.

"I didn't realize how much I missed them," Ni-ki confessed, his voice thick. "I missed the simplicity. And I missed having someone to be proud of me that didn't involve a magazine cover."

"We're proud of you," Sunghoon murmured, stretching up on his toes to kiss the younger man gently.

Ni-ki deepened the kiss, his arms sliding under Sunghoon’s hips to lift him effortlessly onto the kitchen island—a call back to their old, charged encounters, but this time, the ascent was one of worship, not command.

Ni-ki breathed, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to show you how much I love you, Sunghoon. With no rules, no resentment, and no shame."

He leaned in, nipping gently at Sunghoon's earlobe. 

Sunghoon tilted his head back, giving Ni-ki better access to his neck, his body already humming with need. "I can handle anything you give me, Riki."

The shift in their relationship was immediately evident in their movements. Ni-ki's dominance was now tender, his hands powerful but careful. He worked slowly, deliberately removing Sunghoon’s clothes, kissing every inch of exposed skin, celebrating the beautiful man he had been reunited with.

Ni-ki was meticulous, tracing the sharp lines of Sunghoon’s waist, running his large, warm hands over the curve of his hips. He was no longer trying to punish or overwhelm; he was staking a claim of adoration.

Sunghoon, in turn, was actively participating, reaching out to grasp Ni-ki's thick hair, pulling him closer, initiating touches rather than just submitting to them. He reveled in the immense size of Ni-ki's body against his own, the intoxicating power of the man who now loved him openly.

"You are so beautiful, Hyung," Ni-ki murmured, his voice deep and rough with genuine emotion as he pressed Sunghoon back against the cold granite island. "I swear, I will never let you feel small again, unless it’s because I’m making you dizzy with how much I love you."

The encounter moved quickly from the kitchen to the master suite, where Ni-ki took Sunghoon to their shared bed, the sheets already carrying the scent of their new life.

Ni-ki was passionate, fierce, and overwhelmingly strong, yet focused entirely on Sunghoon’s pleasure. He used his dominance—the way he effortlessly positioned Sunghoon, the demanding heat of his body—not to assert power, but to deliver absolute ecstasy.

Sunghoon was loud, desperate, and completely uninhibited, releasing all the tension from the evening's conversation and the trauma of their six years apart.

Ni-ki finally pulled Sunghoon close, lifting him fully into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist, the intimacy suffocating in the best possible way. The immense physical pleasure was intertwined with the profound emotional connection they had just solidified.

When the world finally stilled, Ni-ki lowered Sunghoon gently onto the pillows, kissing his forehead with reverence.

"I love you, Park Sunghoon," Ni-ki whispered, his voice thick with devotion.

He didn't demand a response. He simply pulled Sunghoon into his chest, holding him safe and sound. Sunghoon snuggled into the warm, hard plane of Ni-ki’s body, feeling the heavy, protective weight of the man who was no longer his tyrant or his landlord, but his beloved partner.

They fell asleep tangled together, the ghosts of the past finally banished, replaced by the secure, intense, and demanding love of the present.

The weeks following their reconciliation and the successful, if tense, dinner with their friends were the happiest Sunghoon had experienced in six years. Their relationship had settled into a rhythm that was both tenderly domestic and intensely physical. The rent was paid equally, Sunghoon’s friends were back in both their lives, and Ni-ki’s dominance in bed was entirely consensual, fueled by Sunghoon’s own craving for that overwhelming possession.

One Tuesday, Ni-ki surprised Sunghoon. “Hyung, can you skip lunch please? I’m taking you to work.”

Sunghoon was delighted. Ni-ki’s modeling schedule was usually kept strictly separate from Sunghoon’s gallery job. They drove in Ni-ki’s manager-driven car to a massive, industrial warehouse district that had been converted into a high-fashion studio.

“This is where the magic happens,” Ni-ki said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Sunghoon’s temple before hopping out. “I have two hours of fittings, then we’re free. Just wait in my dressing room. It’s quiet.”

Sunghoon settled into the spacious, surprisingly luxurious private dressing room, which was filled with racks of clothing and professional makeup. He watched the organized chaos through the doorway—the flurry of stylists, photographers, and assistants. Then, he saw Ni-ki step onto the main set.

Ni-ki wasn't just handsome; he was a force of nature. He transformed instantly under the lights, his body moving with a fluid, angular grace that captured the camera. He was commanding, distant, and absolutely breathtaking. Sunghoon watched him pose, realizing that this intense, demanding public persona was the same intensity he experienced in private, only focused differently. He felt a fierce, renewed pride.

After the fittings, Ni-ki grabbed Sunghoon’s hand, his face flushed with the energy of the shoot. His grip was firm, a possessive anchor. 

“You’re coming with me,” Ni-ki announced.

 “Where?” 

“To your world.”

Ni-ki directed the driver to Sunghoon’s gallery downtown. The J.H. Gallery was a beautiful, quiet space, currently hosting a modern sculpture exhibit. The air smelled of polished concrete and high-quality paper. Ni-ki, still dressed in his sleek, high-end street clothes from the shoot—a structured, dark blazer over a fitted crewneck—walked through the pristine halls, a striking, vibrant contrast to the minimalist white walls and the muted tones of the artwork. He looked like a living, moving sculpture himself.

Sunghoon, slightly flustered but unable to suppress a sudden swell of pride, gave him the guided tour. Ni-ki listened intently, not feigning interest, but genuinely engaged.

"The artist uses light refraction to create negative space," Sunghoon explained softly, gesturing to a massive steel piece. 

"The curatorial intent was to explore permanence versus transience."

"So the shadow is as important as the metal," Ni-ki mused, his brow furrowed in concentration. He treated Sunghoon’s job with the same serious, analytical respect he gave his own agency briefs, asking intelligent, insightful questions that showed he was truly listening. He was making an effort to share Sunghoon’s life, fulfilling his promise.

When they reached the back office area, a quieter zone with low light and shelves stacked with portfolios, Ni-ki pulled Sunghoon into a shadowed corner, away from the watchful eye of a slow-turning security camera.

“You belong here, Hyung,” Ni-ki murmured, his eyes sweeping over Sunghoon’s proud, flushed expression. 

“I love watching you be important.”

He backed Sunghoon against a cool, stone wall, placing his large hands on either side of Sunghoon’s head. This was his claim—possessive but deeply affectionate. His body language didn't demand control; it affirmed ownership. He didn't need to physically force Sunghoon into submission here; he just needed to mark him with recognition.

“When you were talking about the artist’s 'boldness' and 'risk,' all I could look at was you,” Ni-ki whispered, leaning in so close that Sunghoon could feel the low vibration of his voice against his ear. “You look too perfect standing next to that cold marble, Hyung. You look like you need to be messed up.”

Sunghoon felt his heart race, the public exposure making the suggestion intoxicating, turning his professional space into a thrilling battleground. “Riki, we’re at my workplace. My supervisor could walk out of his office at any second. Someone will see.”

“We’ll be fast,” Ni-ki promised, his gaze falling to Sunghoon’s mouth, his fingers tracing the sharp line of Sunghoon’s jaw. He was smiling now, a dark, wicked curve of his lips. “Unless you’d prefer we find a place with a lock? I need to taste you when you’re this flustered.”

Sunghoon, unable to resist the heady mix of fear and desire, nodded sharply. “There’s a staff restroom. Single occupancy. Down the hall.”

They quickly slipped into the staff restroom. It was a single-occupancy room, small and functional, with harsh fluorescent lighting that only heightened the secrecy and the raw, unpolished intensity of the moment.

Ni-ki locked the door with a decisive click, the sound echoing loudly in the tiny space. He turned, leaning back against the door, his eyes dark with immediate intent.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the cramped staff restroom, casting a stark glow on the white tiles and the single sink. Sunghoon's heart hammered as Ni-ki locked the door with a sharp click, the sound echoing like a promise in the confined space. 

They'd barely made it inside before Ni-ki's hands were on him, pulling him close with a possessiveness that made Sunghoon's knees weak. The air smelled faintly of bleach and secrecy, but all Sunghoon could focus on was the heat radiating from Ni-ki's body, the way his dark eyes burned with a mix of love and raw hunger.

Ni-ki cupped Sunghoon's face roughly, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones before crashing their mouths together. The kiss was messy from the start—lips sliding slick and desperate, tongues tangling in a wet, frantic dance. 

Sunghoon moaned into it, tasting the faint mint from Ni-ki's gum mixed with the underlying salt of his skin. Ni-ki's teeth grazed Sunghoon's lower lip, nipping hard enough to draw a gasp, then soothing it with a deep lick that sent shivers down Sunghoon's spine. Their breaths mingled hot and heavy, chests pressing tight as hands roamed—Ni-ki's fingers digging into Sunghoon's hips, pulling him flush against the hard bulge straining in his pants.

“God—I love you like this,” Ni-ki murmured against Sunghoon's mouth, voice low and gravelly, laced with that dominant edge that always made Sunghoon's pulse race. 

“All mine, hyung. No one else gets to see you unravel.” He kissed him again, harder, saliva trailing between their lips as Sunghoon clung to Ni-ki's shirt, bunching the fabric in his fists. The make-out turned sloppy, chins slick with spit, Ni-ki's tongue plunging deep like he was claiming every inch of Sunghoon's mouth.

Sunghoon's cock twitched in his slacks, aching from the friction as Ni-ki ground against him. He broke the kiss just enough to pant, 

“Riki... fuck, please,” but Ni-ki silenced him with another bruising press of lips, one hand sliding down to palm Sunghoon through his pants. The touch was electric, making Sunghoon buck forward, but Ni-ki pulled back with a smirk, eyes gleaming.

“On your knees, doll” Ni-ki commanded softly, the words wrapped in affection even as they demanded obedience. Sunghoon dropped without hesitation, the cool tile biting into his knees through his pants. 

He looked up at Ni-ki, adoration swelling in his chest amid the filthy thrill. Ni-ki's fingers threaded into Sunghoon's hair, guiding him forward as he unzipped his own pants with his free hand. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum from the flushed tip. It bobbed heavy in the air, and Sunghoon's mouth watered at the sight—the familiar scent of Ni-ki's arousal hitting him like a drug.

Sunghoon leaned in, lips parting to take the head into his mouth. He sucked greedily, tongue swirling around the slit to lap up the salty bead of pre-cum, humming at the taste that was purely Ni-ki. Ni-ki groaned, hips jerking slightly as Sunghoon hollowed his cheeks and bobbed down further, taking more of the length. 

The blowjob was wet and enthusiastic—Sunghoon's saliva dripping down the shaft, coating Ni-ki's balls as he worked him deeper. He gagged a little when the tip hit the back of his throat, but he pushed on, eyes watering as he relaxed his jaw to swallow around it.

“That's it, hyung,” Ni-ki breathed, voice husky with love and lust. “Suck my cock like you need it. You're so fucking perfect.” His grip tightened in Sunghoon's hair, not forcing but guiding, thrusting shallowly into the warm, slick heat of Sunghoon's mouth. 

Sunghoon moaned around the thickness, the vibration making Ni-ki curse under his breath. He reached up, one hand stroking what his lips couldn't reach, the other fondling Ni-ki's heavy balls, rolling them gently as he bobbed faster. Spit trailed from the corners of his mouth, the sounds obscene—wet slurps and choked gasps filling the small room.

Ni-ki's free hand braced against the sink, knuckles white, as he watched Sunghoon with hooded eyes. The sight of his hyung on his knees, lips stretched wide around his dick, devotion shining through the mess, made his chest tighten with something deeper than desire. 

“I love you,” he whispered, thumb stroking Sunghoon's temple tenderly even as he fucked his mouth a little harder. Sunghoon's cock throbbed untouched in his pants, leaking against the fabric, but he didn't care—he lived for this, for giving Ni-ki everything

Sunghoon's throat worked around Ni-ki's cock, swallowing rhythmically as he took him deeper, the stretch burning in the best way. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from the effort, but he reveled in it—the way Ni-ki's thighs trembled under his hands, the low, guttural sounds spilling from his boyfriend's lips. 

Ni-ki's fingers massaged his scalp now, alternating between gentle pets and firmer tugs that urged him on. “God, hyung, your mouth feels like heaven,” Ni-ki rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I could stay like this forever, just you and me, hidden away.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, lips dragging along the slick length until only the tip rested on his tongue. He flicked it teasingly, lapping at the underside where the vein pulsed hotly, before diving down again with renewed vigor. 

His own arousal strained painfully against his zipper, a wet spot forming from the pre-cum soaking through, but the ache only fueled his devotion. He wanted Ni-ki to lose control, to spill down his throat while whispering those sweet, possessive words that made everything feel right in their secret world.

Ni-ki's hips stuttered, thrusting shallowly as his breathing grew ragged. “Fuck, I'm close... but not yet.” He tugged Sunghoon off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting them still, glistening in the harsh light. Sunghoon looked up, lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving as he licked them clean. Ni-ki hauled him up by the arms, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that tasted of himself—salty and intimate. 

“I need to be inside you,” Ni-ki growled against his lips, hands already fumbling with Sunghoon's belt. “Need to feel you clench around me, hyung. You're mine to fuck, mine to love.”

Sunghoon nodded frantically, heart swelling at the raw affection in Ni-ki's eyes even as his body thrummed with filthy need. 

“Yes, Riki, please.” They moved in a tangle of limbs, Ni-ki spinning him around to face the sink. Sunghoon braced his hands on the cool porcelain, arching his back instinctively as Ni-ki yanked his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. 

The air hit his exposed skin, making him shiver, his ass presented like an offering. Ni-ki's palms spread his cheeks apart, thumbs digging into the flesh as he leaned in, breath ghosting over Sunghoon's hole.

“Look at you, so ready for me,” Ni-ki murmured, voice dripping with adoration. He spat directly onto the puckered entrance, watching it clench before rubbing his thumb in circles, slicking it up. Sunghoon whimpered, pushing back, the touch sending sparks up his spine. 

Ni-ki added more spit, working one finger in slowly, then two, scissoring them to stretch him open. The burn was exquisite, Sunghoon's cock leaking steadily onto the floor below as Ni-ki curled his fingers, brushing that spot inside that made stars burst behind his eyelids.

“Feels good, hm?” Ni-ki asked, pressing a kiss to Sunghoon's spine, his free hand stroking down his side tenderly.

“I love how you open up for me, like your body knows it belongs to me.” Sunghoon could only moan in response, rocking back onto the fingers, the wet sounds of them plunging in and out echoing off the tiles. Ni-ki added a third, twisting them deep, preparing him thoroughly because he always did—caring even in the midst of their lust-fueled frenzy.

Finally, Ni-ki withdrew, and Sunghoon heard the rustle of fabric as Ni-ki freed his cock fully, stroking it a few times to spread the leftover saliva and pre-cum. He lined up, the blunt head nudging against Sunghoon's rim, teasing with shallow presses. 

“Breathe for me, hyung,” Ni-ki whispered, one hand on Sunghoon's hip, the other threading fingers through his to squeeze reassuringly. Then he pushed in, slow and relentless, the thickness breaching him inch by inch.

Sunghoon gasped, head dropping forward as he felt every ridge and vein drag along his walls. It hurt so good, the fullness overwhelming, making his toes curl in his shoes. “Riki... oh god, you're so big,” he panted, voice breaking. Ni-ki bottomed out with a groan, balls pressed snug against Sunghoon's, holding still to let him adjust. He draped over Sunghoon's back, lips brushing his ear. 

“I love you. So much. You take my cock like you were made for it.”

They stayed like that for a moment, connected deeply, breaths syncing in the steamy air. Then Ni-ki started moving—pulling out halfway before snapping back in, setting a rhythm that was both tender and punishing. Each thrust punched the air from Sunghoon's lungs, his prostate grazed with precision that had him seeing white. Ni-ki's hand wrapped around to grip Sunghoon's leaking cock, stroking in time with his hips, thumb swiping over the slit to collect the slickness.

The mirror above the sink fogged slightly from their heat, but Sunghoon caught glimpses of their reflection—Ni-ki's focused expression, sweat beading on his forehead, the way his muscles flexed with every drive forward. Sunghoon's own face was flushed, mouth agape in silent cries, body jolting with the force. 

“Harder,” Sunghoon begged, pushing back to meet him. “Fuck me like you own me.”

Ni-ki obliged, grip tightening on his hip, bruising in the way Sunghoon craved. His thrusts turned brutal, skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch of lube-less friction mixing with their moans. 

“You're mine, hyung. This tight ass is mine to pound, to fill up.” He angled his hips, slamming into that sweet spot relentlessly, making Sunghoon's legs shake. Pre-cum dripped steadily from Sunghoon's tip, pooling on the floor as Ni-ki jerked him faster, twisting at the head.

Sunghoon's climax built like a storm, coiling tight in his gut. “Riki, I'm gonna—” Ni-ki cut him off with a deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt. 

“Come for me, love. Let me feel you squeeze my dick.” The words tipped him over, Sunghoon crying out as he spilled over Ni-ki's fist, ropes of cum painting the sink and his own shirt. His walls clenched rhythmically, milking Ni-ki who followed seconds later, groaning Sunghoon's name like a prayer as he pumped hot seed deep inside.

They slumped together, Ni-ki still lodged in him, arms wrapping around Sunghoon's waist in a hug that felt like home. “I love you,” Ni-ki repeated, kissing his shoulder softly. 

When it was over, Ni-ki steadied Sunghoon, pressing his flushed face into the crook of Sunghoon’s neck for a moment to catch his breath.

“Now,” Ni-ki whispered, his voice rough. “Let’s clean up and go home. We have the hyungs to see. Can’t have them meeting us while smelling like spunk now, can’t we?”