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Years of denying oneself the forbidden fruit can lead even the strongest men further down the path of sin – and Inho has never claimed himself to be one. So whenever the temptation gets too dangerous, when he can feel his willpower thinning and close to snapping, he lies to Junho about having plans with his friends and finds himself in a different area of the city, where the roaring nightlife promises lost souls any pleasure they might seek for the night.
It takes Inho some time to find it, to find him, but once his sharp gaze lands on the young figure standing by the bar, he knows he has made his choice. It’s never an easy one as none of the guys fit all the requirements needed for this to work, – the height doesn’t match, the hairstyle is too different, or the body isn’t built like the one it’s supposed to be substituting for tonight. It’s an impossible task, finding a satisfactory replacement for Junho, but he either picks one decent enough, or risks exposing his ugly, perverted self and losing Junho forever. And that is the one choice he’s never willing to make. So, a guy drinking at the bar it is.
Picking the guy up goes without a hitch, and soon they’re at the motel Inho made sure to book beforehand. And once they get to the point, to what they’re both seeking from each other, it’s easy to make the guy listen to his every command. Get on all fours. Face in the pillow. Call me hyung when i fuck you. Stay down and don’t look. Call me hyung when i make you come.
He uses him and then discards him just as easily. Inho won’t even be able to recall the guy’s face the next day, as it was never about him. It’s a different yet familiar face he imagines in his place, a different body and a different voice calling out for him, whose fleeting image he keeps chasing in strangers in his bed.
It’s early in the morning, their neighborhood fast asleep with its streets nearly empty, when Inho gets home, still buzzing with dissatisfaction, and is welcomed by Junho, who looks suspiciously as if he stayed up all night waiting for him. But Inho can’t find the strength within himself to scold him for sacrificing his sleep for nothing, not when he’s so pleased to see him – and that only makes it worse. He hates himself for sitting down beside him at the kitchen table, with his arm wrapped around Junho’s shoulders, asking him how his day went. Hates not being able to tear his eyes off him after just having spent a night with someone who totally didn’t look eerily similar to Junho – sometimes his guilt makes it hard to admit to himself his own tricks. Inho hates having even faint traces of the guy left on his body, so as not to taint Junho with them. Loathes himself for still imagining him in the other’s place, with him, under him, taking him, – then again, the voice in his head gleefully reminds him, it was always supposed to be Junho in that place, wasn’t it?
It’s moments like these, when they sit in the intimate comfort of their home, sharing stories and basking in each other’s warmth, that make it impossible for Inho to keep avoiding the truth – his hunger for Junho is too insatiable and all-consuming to remain forever under his control.
He is a horrible man, Inho knows that. He’s a horrible man who gets aroused by the sweet innocence his little brother displays when he’s around Inho, touching him without second-guessing, lying on the couch with his head in Inho’s lap and looking up at him with those big eyes of his, full of love and sincerity – it’s maddening. Inho has to taste that naivety on his tongue, watch those eyes widen in surprise as he caresses his body and slips his tongue into his mouth, taking his time to ease him into it. Inho wouldn’t need to ask to know this is Junho’s first intimate experience with a man. He is Junho’s first, and he will be his only.
Inho wants nothing more than to drink in that innocence, consume it, make it his. Wants to pin him under his weight and make love to him, gently, properly, showing him, this is what sex can be with a right lover. I can teach you. And this boy, his sweet little brother, he would let him, wouldn’t he? He would let Inho do anything to him, bring his every fantasy to life and use his body however he wants. Oh, he would be so good, so eager to please his hyung, blushing from head to toe, coming undone from his touch alone. Would beg him, hyung, please, it feels so good, don’t stop, and Inho wouldn’t, couldn’t stop, not with Junho in his arms, fitting him perfectly as if he was made just for him. Junho would still preserve his unwavering trust in his hyung even when covered in bruises from being fucked senseless by him.
Inho is a horrible man who wants everything Junho is willing to give, and he denies himself all of it. He chooses, over and over, to keep his desire unsated – until the day comes when he won’t be able to hold back anymore.