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Yoo Jonghyuk laid awake, looking at the ceiling of the room. His body was aching from the beating he endured, but it wasn't as hurt as his own ego. He failed. He had lost against the damn Plotter. The guy that infuriatingly looked like himself .
He shook his head, his thoughts a mess, confused. The fight kept replaying in his mind. Over and over. But it wasn't just that.
It was something more that kept him awake.
Something unexpected .
He looked at the tent between his legs, a hard silhouette against the darkness of the room. His dreams ranged from the fight with the Secretive Plotter...to Kim Dokja.
He'd thought he knew him better. Finally. After their fight at the Isle of Reincarnators, when Kim Dokja introduced himself. A simple worker at a game company who liked to read webnovels. A simple and boring life, or so he thought by the tone Kim Dokja had used back then. He'd been satisfied with that answer. He finally knew something .
Kim Dokja had been a mystery for so long. He had known nothing about his past, only knew what he saw of Kim Dokja during the scenarios. He was cunning, a fool, stupid, impulsive and a moron who threw his life over and over for his comrades. An infuriating person, that is. A self-sacrificing idiot. His companion for life and death. A simple man who had led a simple and boring life before it became one full of scenarios and monsters.
But Kim Dokja had held some information back. A reader, one more poor person working himself thin to survive in a lonely world. The Plotter had shown him that. How Kim Dokja had survived by reading Ways of Survival. Reading his story and losing himself rather than living his life. Because it wasn't a good life, but it was a common one still. He saw his hardships, the same a large number of Koreans lived through every year. Kim Dokja survived, alone and tired. He even expected that when the Secretive Plotter started showing him.
But then, a surprise . Just like every experience he'd had already with Kim Dokja. He was a fool, but he always had a way, something no ordinary person would think of, at least. Something that would leave his comrades shaking in any possible way.
Kim Dokja grew tired of working too many shifts at underpaid jobs. Expected . Until...
He saw a young man, around his own age, laughing and kissing a man older than him. They didn't exactly look like a couple. The laugh sounded fake, the movements too showy to be natural, and the man's hands kept grabbing his body in lewd ways. It was night, yes, and the street wasn't crowded, but still, who would do that?
Kim Dokja kept looking, interested. For him, somehow, it was clear. The young man was wearing provocative clothing, but really expensive. They went into a car, full of luxury and comfort.
An idea formed in Kim Dokja's mind while he looked at his reflection in the convenience store's window. He touched his cheeks, an appreciative look on his face.
"I could do that too. I'm not an eyesore at least. Average looking. A little more care and maybe I could do it", he whispered to himself, lowering his gaze to his body. He was thin, but not so bad to his eyes. "Mhm, but I don't want to deal with weird people..."
The memories went forward, to Kim Dokja in front of a computer. He had used his savings to buy an old one with a working camera.
"This will have to do", he muttered, before his lips formed a smile, an unsure one. He looked nervous.
But the memories kept going forward, between his beginning as a camboy, where he had to use only his hands to pleasure himself in front of strangers, to the normal life he lived outside the tiny room.
While Yoo Jonghyuk had been fighting against the Secretive Plotter, those memories entered his thoughts, infected him. Images of Kim Dokja buying dildos, smearing lube on his penis, opening himself with delicious moans echoing in the tiny room he lived, of his body tensing when a dildo entered his hole, the camera directed to that place, comments growing and money being given to the boy who kept fucking and jerking himself, moaning the names of his biggest contributors.
It had been distracting back then, to see and hear all those memories while fighting the Plotter. But he kept them in the back of his mind. He had to retrieve Kim Dokja from the Plotter, and there wasn't time for him to get immersed in such memories.
But now , after failing miserably, he often found himself awake in the middle of the night by dreams so vivid he woke up dizzy from the desire clouding his mind. He kept dreaming of Kim Dokja fucking himself until his body could no longer move, of white lingerie smeared with cum, laces against smooth skin, a cocky smile he knew so well but in a more intimate and erotic way. Bared chest, hard and pink nipples, hands playing with his dick, fingers between his asscheeks, and moans that haunted him. Always a different name in those memories, but only his in his dreams.
"Jonghyuk-ah, please !", begging for him to fuck him senseless, hard, to grip his waist and hit that bundle of nerves that made him ngo mad, moan harder and drool, his legs shaking from pleassure. His voice hoarse and breath erratic, cum staining the tiny piece of lingerie he wore, his ass full of bruises in the form of Jonghyuk's hands.
And Yoo Jonghyuk would keep fucking him, delighting himself in the thightness of his hole, the warmth from his body and those moans that aroused him even more, that made him grow harder and harder. Kim Dokja panting, moaning his name, flushed by the heat from his body, the shame from his begging, and yet he wouldn't stop. "Please, bastard ", he'd try to touch himself, but no, Yoo Jonghyuk wouldn't let him. Growling in his ear to keep his hands away from his body, delighting in the way Kim Dokja still would try to disobey. Because that's how he was. He never listened and always found a way to do what he wanted. And Yoo Jonghyuk loved to see him try, only to punish him after, spanking his ass, grabbing his hair, biting his neck.
His hand was inside his pants now, playing with his dick, hot and hard, craving to be inside that body. The same that many people on Seoul had seen already, with that face blissfully wrecked from fucking himself in dildos that grew in size over the years. It was supposed to be temporary, but Kim Dokja kept making his shows up until the scenarios began.
Would he do it again? If a dokkaebi suggested it... would Kim Dokja pull out a show like that for the constellations? Who would see him pleasure himself like that? No. Who wouldn't ? He'd pay to see him. No. He'd pay to be the one fucking Kim Dokja senseless. He'd pay so no one would see Kim Dokja but himself.
His hand went faster, while his mind kept thinking of Kim Dokja's moans. Only his name ringing in his ears, with that voice growing hoarser, desperate .
The Plotter had seen him too . That face, that body. Many people had done that, but he was certain none would've survived up until now. Except the Plotter. The one who took Kim Dokja from him.
Away .
No.
"You are mine, Kim Dokja... my companion. Not his ! ", he grunted, accelerating the pace his hand moved. Kim Dokja was his to take. To wreck. He should only beg for him to fill him with his cock, to bite and bruise his skin. Only his to taste. 'Only mine' , he came, a ringing noise in his ears, the faint memory of his name in those lips, of a voice he dreaded and wanted, craved to hear. His vision grew white, and his body shook, cum staining his pants, his hand full of it.
He came back to himself after a while, still panting, groaning. His body felt heavy and hot, dissatisfied to find his hand and not the person he wanted beside him.
"Only mine", he said, looking past the ceiling, to the night sky. Not to the constellations that might've been watching. But to that Outer God who took his companion away.
It was a promise.
That he'd grow stronger.
And Kim Dokja would be back by his side.