Chapter 122

“No. Why would we?”

I prefer people staying in their own seats while they eat.

Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?

The table’s already this wide. Why do two fully grown men—especially someone your size and someone my size—need to squeeze together uncomfortably?

The questions exploded through his mind in rapid succession, but there was no way he could actually say them out loud.

“Wouldn’t it be nicer to eat while facing each other? I think so, at least.”

Still, this much felt safe enough to say.

Not I don’t want your suggestion, but I want to look at you instead.

Of course, the truth wasn’t that Gyeol wanted to see Yo Han Sung’s face. He wanted distance.

Still, Yo Han Sung was probably sharp enough to realize this was a roundabout rejection.

“The view’s actually better from your side.”

Yo Han Sung nodded toward the window.

“I thought it might be nice if we ate while looking at the same scenery.”

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t understand.

It was that he had no intention of listening.

I’m an idiot for expecting otherwise.

“......All right. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

Once Yo Han Sung had gone as far as giving a reason like that, Gyeol couldn’t think of a convincing excuse to refuse a second time. Reluctantly, he pulled out the chair beside him.

Yo Han Sung moved over.

As expected from someone built like that, even with plenty of space between the seats, their shoulders still brushed.

Feeling vaguely dissatisfied, Gyeol tried to drag his chair away to create some distance.

The instant he moved, Yo Han Sung wrapped an arm around his shoulders as though putting him in a loose embrace and hauled him right back.

“Where are you going?”

The shock hit so hard his lips only parted soundlessly for a moment before words finally emerged.

This felt completely different from being held on the bed.

Sitting side by side while trapped against his body like this.

The first had felt openly intimate.

This was worse.

More ordinary.

People sat beside each other all the time. Ate together all the time. Even strangers did.

But being pressed this closely against another person in such a mundane situation created the strange illusion that Yo Han Sung was quietly stepping into the middle of his everyday life.

“Don’t go. Stay here.”

His voice was low.

Resonant. Clear.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, the moment he heard it, heat flared violently down Gyeol’s spine. He remembered the hand moving beneath the blanket, the sensation of broad palms sliding over bare skin, the sticky heat that had spread wherever they touched.

His cheeks burned hot.

Unable to understand what exactly was happening to him, Gyeol shoved weakly against Yo Han Sung’s chest.

“At this rate I won’t even be able to eat properly.”

“So what?”

Yo Han Sung’s grip tightened slightly around his shoulder.

“Is eating really that important?”

Something inside the hand holding him felt greedy.

Even the way he spoke was becoming rougher. More raw.

Closer to the tone Yo Han Sung only ever used around him.

Is this man actually okay right now?

Not that Gyeol was in any position to worry about someone else.

Still.

That seemed dangerous.

He only shifted his eyes upward slightly—

and at that exact moment, Yo Han Sung tilted his head too, trying to look directly into Gyeol’s face.

Their eyes locked.

Gyeol wasn’t stupid.

He knew perfectly well what usually happened next in situations like this.

His lips suddenly felt dry. A heavy pull tightened low in his stomach.

“...Why are you looking at me so prettily?”

“I’m not.”

The answer barely left his mouth before Yo Han Sung spread the large hand resting against his shoulder and slid it around the back of Gyeol’s head, pulling him closer.

Startled, Gyeol recoiled instinctively, trying to lean away.

But he couldn’t overpower Yo Han Sung.

The dim room.

The chandelier light scattering softly overhead.

One ribbon of light settled against Yo Han Sung’s long eyelashes.

The glow reflected in his eyes as he leaned closer—

and suddenly, Gyeol remembered.

“Why?”

“Because you’re pretty.”

Back then, just like now, they had been sitting side by side.

And Yo Han Sung’s face had slowly drawn closer.

Gyeol remembered staring at his eyelashes, thinking silently how beautiful they were. His eyes had seemed impossibly vivid, dark pupils deep enough to swallow someone whole.

“You’re too close......”

“Can I kiss you?”

And then—

“...Why? Why are you kissing me?”

Drunk and mumbling through the question, Gyeol had watched Yo Han Sung smile at him like he was adorable before answering:

“You said it seemed like I liked you.”

Just before the lips inside his memory finally touched—

present-day Gyeol snapped back to reality and slapped both hands over Yo Han Sung’s mouth.

“.......”

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

His face felt so hot it seemed on the verge of exploding.

Yo Han Sung paused, then looked down at him with a flat, unimpressed stare.

At first glance, it looked like Gyeol had successfully extinguished the emergency situation.

In reality, the fire had never gone out to begin with.

More accurately, it had already burned itself to the limit once before.

Because now he remembered everything.

***

— Three years earlier.

“Check for yourself.”

The whisper ended, and their lips met.

At first Yo Han Sung only pecked at him lightly several times, then slowly rolled his tongue over Gyeol’s lower lip in soft teasing strokes. The sensation felt so good Gyeol’s lips parted on their own.

As the distance between their mouths slowly widened, wet heat slipped inside. The feeling of his tongue licking against the soft inner flesh of Gyeol’s mouth sent heat rushing through him, and a small moan escaped before he could stop it.

“Mm... ngh......”

Yo Han Sung ignited instantly, like dry fabric catching fire.

Tilting Gyeol’s head back, he shifted the angle of the kiss as their noses brushed. The instant their tongues touched, a dizzying shock crashed through Gyeol’s alcohol-soaked brain.

The kiss that had started soft grew rougher. Hungrier. More impatient.

Gyeol had never been kissed like this before.

Barely able to breathe properly, he panted helplessly while struggling to keep up with Yo Han Sung’s tongue.

Their tongues tangled deep together. Saliva slid down Gyeol’s chin.

Wet sounds filled the room thickly.

Yo Han Sung wrapped an arm around Gyeol’s waist and pulled him onto his lap. The moment their groins pressed together, Gyeol threw his head back with a strangled sound.

“Ah—!”

“Shh... Don’t get loud.”

“This... this position......”

“Yeah.”

Yo Han Sung smiled faintly against his lips.

“It’s the Unconventional Love Story filming position.”

“......”

“Practice.”

“Mm.......”

When Gyeol nodded dazedly, Yo Han Sung’s grip tightened and dragged him closer again.

Gyeol followed obediently.

Straddling him with his knees spread apart, he continued kissing him.

It felt like his brain was melting.

Pleasure he’d gone years without experiencing consumed him embarrassingly fast.

Yo Han Sung seemed to be trying his best not to let it spill out, but Alpha pheromones leaked through the room anyway, escaping like an invisible flood under the sexual stimulation.

Completely unaware that his own Omega pheromones were pouring out just as badly, Gyeol clung tighter to him as the Alpha scent sent prickling waves through his entire body.

“Hng... mm. Ngh.......”

It felt good.

It felt unbelievably good.

What felt good?

The wet tongue licking and sucking at his.

Yo Han Sung constantly touching his hands, his elbows, the soft skin at the back of his neck.

The way the heated bulge between them rubbed helplessly together during the kiss because of their position.

“Hah... ngh. Mm.......”

“Wait.”

His alcohol-dulled mind drowned beneath the stimulation and Alpha pheromones, reason blurring hazily away.

Grabbing Yo Han Sung by the shoulders, Gyeol pressed his lower body even closer. He wanted more friction. Wanted deeper pressure against the spot already throbbing pleasantly.

“Wait, Gyeol.”

But just before Gyeol could move again, Yo Han Sung broke the kiss and grabbed his waist, forcing space between them.

“...Not like this.”

“......?”

Eyes wet with instinctive tears from the overwhelming heat, Gyeol stared at him blankly, unable to understand why.

Keeping their hips apart, Yo Han Sung lowered his head and wrapped both arms around him tightly.

“Not like this. Next time...”

The hands touching him carried unmistakable desire.

His body was burning hot.

Alpha pheromones flooded the room in restless waves.

Everything about Yo Han Sung was saying he wanted him.

And yet, as if something mattered more than immediate desire, he gently coaxed the half-delirious Gyeol instead.

“Next time. When you’re sober. After we actually talk properly. Then.”

Gyeol didn’t understand what he meant.

His overheated body ached. His stomach felt heavy and tight.

All he understood was the faint resentment he felt toward the man trying to pull away from him.

So he reached up and touched Yo Han Sung’s beautiful face with both hands before leaning forward to kiss him himself.

Their saliva-slick lips pressed softly together.

It felt nice.

He kissed him again.

Yo Han Sung looked carved from marble, yet his lips were soft and warm, and the tongue hidden behind them made Gyeol feel unbearably good.

So this time, Gyeol pushed his own tongue inside first.

They kissed for a long time.

Several times things nearly crossed a dangerous line, but Yo Han Sung always restrained himself somehow, only stroking Gyeol’s back while swallowing everything else down.

Little by little, the overheated tension draining through Gyeol’s body softened into heavy exhaustion.

Eventually, wrapped in Yo Han Sung’s arms, he started dozing off.

And the only thing he remembered clearly afterward was this:

Until the moment Gyeol fully fell asleep, Yo Han Sung kept stroking his hair gently.

It was a kind of tenderness even his parents had never given him.

***

Twenty-seven-year-old Gyeol Go, face burning crimson, stared in horror while clamping both hands over thirty-two-year-old Yo Han Sung’s mouth.

Yo Han Sung blinked in disbelief at the abrupt assault, eyebrows twisting as though dumbfounded, then grabbed Gyeol’s wrist and pulled his hand down while laughing.

“What exactly were you imagining?”

“No, I— just now—”

“You must’ve been thinking something pretty serious.”

Tilting his chin teasingly, Yo Han Sung studied him, then burst out laughing again like he genuinely couldn’t help himself.

“No, but— seriously? I mean— wasn’t it obvious?!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop pretending you don’t know when you obviously do.”

“I really don’t.”

At that exact moment—

knock knock.

The sound at the door froze both of them instantly.

“Yes?”

At Yo Han Sung’s response, the door slowly opened.

The appetizers had arrived.

Small elegant plates were placed before them, followed by the sommelier pouring white wine for tasting.

“I’m okay.”

Still unable to lift his head properly because his face felt ready to explode, Gyeol refused the wine tasting.

After Yo Han Sung approved it, the sommelier filled both glasses and quietly left.

Food didn’t matter anymore.

His head was a complete disaster.

Confused, overwhelmed, and now burdened with the horrifying realization that he’d apparently become an even bigger idiot than he’d originally feared.

“Um... sorry. I need to use the restroom for a second.”

Right now, he desperately needed to get away from Yo Han Sung and breathe.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

And while he was gone, he needed to figure out what the hell to do about these memories and what happened from here onward—

“Oh, right.”

Still dizzy from replaying everything in his head, Gyeol stood from his seat.

Then Yo Han Sung grabbed his shoulder, pulled him down slightly—

and kissed his forehead.

Smack.

A soft sound echoed lightly between them.

“You should finish what you started.”