Chapter 49

Taeheon covered the man’s mouth, silencing him. He couldn’t afford to make any more noise. Yaein might come out here.  

The man, realizing there was no escape, swung his fist wildly. Taeheon easily dodged the elbow aimed at his jaw and pressed the man down with his weight.  

Unable to overcome the difference in size, the man finally gave up, his breathing ragged and desperate.  

“Just tell my father this,” Taeheon whispered calmly. “Everything’s fine. We’re doing well. Just keep quiet and say that.”  

As he whispered soothingly, Taeheon grabbed the man’s fingers and bent them backward. A muffled groan vibrated from under his palm.  

Without much effort, Taeheon pushed the finger forward, producing a sickening *crack*. The man convulsed, pain evident in his squirming.  

Satisfied, Taeheon glanced toward the house. Light spilled from the doorway—Yaein had stepped outside, wrapped in the shawl he’d brought her. A faint smile touched Taeheon’s lips.  

“Believe it or not,” he whispered one last time, his eyes fixed on his wife, “your boss’s son really just wants to live quietly. If you just leave me alone, nothing will happen.”  

Taeheon slowly released the man’s mouth. No more screams—just shallow, panicked breaths. Rising to his feet, Taeheon brushed the dirt from his knees and straightened his clothes.  

He adjusted his hair as if preparing for a date, oddly filled with a sense of anticipation.  

As he moved toward the house, Yaein spotted him and hurried over, pulling her shawl tighter.  

“You said you were organizing the car,” she pointed out.  

“Yeah.”  

She glanced at the garage and then back at him. “The car’s parked here, but you came from over there.”  

“I just took a walk.”  

“On that dark path? Instead of the beach?”  

“My night vision’s pretty good.”  

Yaein frowned, not convinced.  

“Did something happen?”  

Nothing happened. It would be easy to lie, but the words got caught on his tongue.  

Yaein’s worried eyes examined him closely. Taeheon couldn’t help but feel strangely pleased. She genuinely cared for him.  

“My father’s up to something,” he finally admitted.  

Even though he knew it would worry her, he couldn’t help but confess. Somewhere deep down, he hoped she’d just keep worrying about him.  

“You’re being watched,” he added.  

She would probably be scared now. But instead, Yaein just furrowed her brows, lips pressed tightly together.  

“Let’s go inside and talk,” she said, taking his hand.  

“You look cold.”  

Cold? Taeheon raised a silent question. He didn’t feel cold. It was only as she pulled him through the doorway that he noticed the slight trembling in his fingertips.  

“You’re not hurt, are you?”  

“…Why would I be?”  

Yaein continued to say strange things. Taeheon’s own confused tone sounded foolish to him, making his brow furrow.  

“I thought maybe… your father might have hurt you again.”  

Yaein’s hands carefully checked his face, neck, and even his side through the shirt, as if making sure he was intact.  

Her touch was clumsy but endearing. Even if he had a couple of cracked ribs, Taeheon felt he could easily fake being uninjured under her gentle probing.  

Then he made a small noise.  

“Oh.”  

“Does it hurt? Is it here?”  

His response was vague, just a subtle shake of his head that neither confirmed nor denied it.  

Panicking slightly, Yaein hurried off and returned with a towel soaked in cold water.  

“There’s no first aid kit here… but if it’s a bruise, we should at least put a cold compress on it.”

Yaein lifted Taeheon’s shirt and checked his side. Her expression subtly changed as she took in the old scars, but the rest of the skin was clean, only the defined muscles along his ribs standing out.

“You’re not hurt.”

“I never said I was.”

Yaein shot him an incredulous look at his shameless response.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Of course I am. Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“It’s just… strange.”

At his short explanation, Yaein’s tense face softened a little.

“No one’s ever worried about me before.”

As Taeheon continued speaking, Yaein’s expression grew even more pitiful. Her face melted with compassion and concern, like cream mixed with chocolate. It was sweet.

Taeheon swallowed, feeling the thick saliva slide down his throat. He realized he was faking it. He was exaggerating his pain and pretending to be weak. Just because he liked the way Yaein was worried about him.

It was an action that went against everything ingrained in him his whole life. To expose his weakness? Showing vulnerability was practically inviting someone to bite his neck.

But Yaein wanted to take care of him. She showed compassion toward a weakened Taeheon. It was too strange and unnatural to him.

“I worry about you a lot.”

Why? You know what kind of person I am. The question swirled in his mouth without leaving.

“That’s really…”

Taeheon tried to find the right words, his usually sharp mind failing him. He lowered his forehead onto Yaein’s shoulder, letting his weight lean against her small, fragile body.

“…It feels nice.”

The words he managed to muster were simple and far too plain.

He breathed in her scent. Deeply. Deeper. The sweet air seeped into his lungs, as if painting his insides with a soft, luminous color. Tiny sparkles seemed to dance between his alveoli. 

Maybe this was what it felt like to be high. If hallucinogens gave a similar illusion, Taeheon would gladly become an addict.

Yaein suddenly froze as if realizing something, noticing the bulge pressing against her thigh.

“…”

Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she licked her lips. Taeheon grinned shamelessly, like an animal without a shred of guilt.

“I don’t get why you react like that sometimes,” Yaein mumbled.

“React how?”

“When you suddenly get like this… without me doing anything.”

“Oh, you mean how I’m sporting a hard-on without you even touching me?”

“……”

“Guess you’re just an irresistible femme fatale.”

Yaein pushed Taeheon’s shoulder with a bit of force, as if lightly scolding him with a hint of affection.

“Just go and wash up.”

“Want to join me?”

The suggestion was as transparent as it could be — practically begging. Despite being so desperate, Taeheon managed to maintain a surprisingly calm demeanor.

“Sure.”

He hadn’t expected her to say yes, and it took him a moment to react. In the short time he hesitated, Yaein had already started walking away.

“Bring a change of clothes. I’ll go in first.”

As he watched Yaein move ahead, Taeheon lightly touched his lips. He needed to get undressed quickly — his pants were getting unbearably tight.

***

The bathroom filled with steam.

Compared to their house in Seoul, the bathroom here was small, but it still managed to have both a shower booth and a bathtub. Behind the foggy, frosted glass of the shower booth, no clear shape could be seen. 

The tight tension of anticipation made him even more impatient. Taeheon turned his body toward the bathtub.

The rounded shoulders rose above the surface of the water, glistening in the dim light. Wet hair flowed down, blending into the water’s surface. 

Taeheon perched on the edge of the tub. Beneath the clear water, he could see her rounded br*asts and long legs. Yaein lifted her head to look at him, a drop of water sliding from her chin and pooling at her collarbone. Feeling an unquenchable thirst, Taeheon licked his lips.

“Why did you take so long?” 

“Had to hold myself back for a bit.” 

Taeheon dipped his hand into the bathwater, brushing his fingers over the soft peak of her chest. Even with just a light touch, her n*pples perked up instantly — surprisingly sensitive. Gently grasping and twisting the blushing *reola, he watched Yaein bite her lip, a faint moan escaping into the humid air. 

“But it was pointless in the end.” 

His voice was slow and languid. His fully *rect length strained upward, bold and unashamed, and seeing it, Yaein’s earlobes turned an even deeper shade of red. 

“Stop messing around and just wash up first.” 

Yaein pushed his arm away from the water with a light touch, the same way she had touched his shoulder earlier — without much force. 

Instead of moving to the shower booth, Taeheon turned on the handheld shower connected to the bathtub. Warm water streamed down over both their heads. As Yaein quickly wiped the dripping water from her face with her hands, Taeheon lathered his hands with body wash, creating a fragrant foam. 

He spread it over his skin, emphasizing the muscular curves of his body. Yaein, who had moved out of the shower’s spray, glanced at him repeatedly. 

“You can look openly,” he teased, his voice tinged with a smirk. 

Caught off guard, Yaein turned her head away in a fluster, but then, as if making up her mind, she looked at him directly. 

“Other than my face and voice, is it my body that you like the most?” he asked, feigning nonchalance. 

Her earlobes blushed even deeper, but she didn’t avert her gaze. 

“You always look at my body too… without asking,” she muttered with a hint of protest. 

Cute. Especially that tiny stutter at the end. 

“Yeah. You can look at me without permission too. If you feel like it, you can even strip me down.” 

Yaein was at a loss for words, and Taeheon adjusted his position to give her a better view. 

“Just say the word, and I’ll take it off — anywhere, anytime. You can touch me, as much as you want.” 

“…”

He wondered what kind of thoughts were running through her head as he saw her whole body flush with a warm pink hue. The way she couldn’t hide her embarrassment was endlessly amusing. 

“Even if you strip me in public, I wouldn’t mind. I’d be happy to let you.” 

Yaein, still visibly shy, tried to argue. 

“What if I actually did that, with people around?” 

“Then I’d show them.” 

“…”

“If you tell me to, I’ll do it gladly.” 

Taeheon pressed his lips to her shoulder. If he could, he would have kissed the top of her foot too.

When it came to his own s*xual allure, Taeheon knew it all too well — to the point of exhaustion. His appearance was a cursed inheritance from his parents, and his physique was the result of obsessive self-control. Yet, people loved the product of his self-inflicted torment. 

Or was it the scent of sin lingering on his body that enticed them? Like the forbidden fruit that lured humans into temptation. Wherever he went, he was met with gazes of worship and lust, and it made him sick. The body that others craved — his flesh, blood, and bones — was something Taeheon had never once liked himself.

“That’s enough. I’m not showing it to anyone else,” Yaein grumbled sulkily. Even her lips, which she bit down on, were as red as her cheeks.

The fact that Lee Yaein was drawn to his body filled him with satisfaction. It was the first time he didn’t resent having a body that made her look at him with such hazy eyes. If she liked it, then Taeheon didn’t mind his own voice either. 

“Because I’m yours?” Taeheon asked leisurely, his voice dropping to a husky, sensual tone that resonated through the humid bathroom. Yaein looked at him with moist eyes, her n*pples standing *rect beneath the surface of the clear bathwater — just as they had when he touched them.

She desired him.

She watched him. His face, neck, chest, legs, and the fierce *rousal that strained between them.

Taeheon licked his upper lip and grasped his length firmly. Squeezing hard enough to make it throb, he stroked himself, his palm slipping with a lewd sound as it brushed against the sticky fluid already wetting the tip.

“Haa… Haa…”

Even though it wasn’t her first time seeing him touch himself, Yaein couldn’t hide her embarrassment. The pr*cum beaded and dripped, slicking the swollen head as it hardened even more.