Saliva
My cock had gone and gotten hard. Honestly, even I didn't know why. Was it that, at the tail end of extreme agony, the feel of a soft hand had turned me on? Then again, for men my age, a stiff breeze alone was enough — erections were simply a natural phenomenon.
"No way.... you're hard?"
She'd seen the tent pitched in the front of my pants and spoken with wide, startled eyes. She could quit being surprised and just give it a touch with those pretty hands of hers....
Jian's hands bore scars, but at their root they were genuinely beautiful — befitting a former piano student: long, refined fingers, a smooth and delicate back, the heel of each palm plump in exactly the right way. If I so much as pictured those hands wrapping around my cock, I felt like I'd blow on the spot.
"Seongjun, did I get you excited? Looking at me like this? Oh my... what are we going to do with you...."
Excited, alright. At this rate the mere sound of her voice would do the trick. But this was not something Seongjun could afford to agree to.
"You crazy fucking bitch, you're a grown woman and you don't know that? Guys my age get hard twenty-four-seven for no reason at all. You dense retard of a bitch."
The curses poured right out. Something must have come over him, because Seongjun's profanity came spewing forth raw and unfiltered, like a burst dam. This was the true caliber of a Marine-honed tongue being put on display.
"Hey, you dog-shit bitch — is your brain up in your skull or down in those tits? This absurdly busty.... I'll swipe that pussy right off you."
But Seongjun should have stopped right there. A word he'd heard before — the one that lived permanently in Wonyoung's mouth — had slipped loose.
"You fucking bitch, your blood is dirty, your blood is... you orphan bitch with no mom, no dad, nothing but those fat tits...."
THWACK! The moment Jian swung the bat again, Seongjun's skull snapped violently sideways. Whether it was night or day, he couldn't have said — it was a day of blood spattering and flesh flying.
"Nnnngh...."
Waking to the sound of his own moan was no longer a surprise. But the moment he forced his heavy eyelids up, a strange sensation greeted him.
"Wh-what the...?"
At first I thought it was Choi Jian — her — but it wasn't. Some woman in purple scrubs was running her hands all over my body.
"Please hold still. I'm treating your wounds."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Your scalp is torn a little. It's nothing serious, but it needs stitching, so bear with it."
"I said, what are you doing!"
The woman — doctor or nurse, impossible to tell — slid on a mask and raised a syringe.
"Lidocaine. A local anesthetic. Just three stitches, so this will be over quickly."
The masked woman delivered it in a flat, businesslike tone and got straight to work. Once she'd sutured the wound, she smoothed anti-inflammatory gel over his forearms and thighs and wound compression bandages around them.
"Contusions across your entire body. Fortunately, there's no sign of any fractures. You are severely dehydrated, though — I imagine they'll be giving you something to eat, won't they?"
Right. I had no idea how long it had been since I'd been dragged here, but I couldn't recall drinking water or eating a single time. Head hanging limp, Seongjun stared up at the woman who appeared to be a doctor.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't know anything."
Eyes flinching away behind her surgical mask, the woman cut in before he could press further. Most likely a doctor Choi Jian had hired — the kind who could overlook this sort of arrangement for the right price.
The kidnapping, a confinement facility like this, even a physician to tend his wounds. It had to cost a fortune — what did she do for a living? Seongjun felt a flicker of curiosity about Jian's background, but more than that, he wanted to know where exactly he was.
"Where is this place? You can tell me at least that much, can't you?"
"I... I don't know. I was brought here blindfolded myself."
Her pupils were trembling finely — she didn't come across as a liar. Avoiding my gaze, the woman hurriedly gathered up her instruments and slipped out beyond the steel bars.
With a clunk—, the dead silence crept back in. Lifting his swollen eyes, Seongjun took stock of his surroundings once more. The faintly dim white lighting seemed to seep some subtle poison, the kind that could drive a man out of his mind.
The place, as bleak as a prison cell, was wired with CCTV. Cameras mounted at every corner of the ceiling whirred as their lenses swiveled — jiiiing, jiiiing — and that sound scraped at his nerves in the strangest way.
"Did you sleep well, Seongjun? How's the body feeling?"
With a clunk— she appeared again. How's the body feeling — she bludgeons me with a baseball bat, then promptly assigns me a doctor. So this was the proverbial give the disease, then give the cure. Whether to laugh or cry at her meticulous care, Seongjun couldn't decide.
"Hey, you insane bitch — does any of this look fine to you?"
At his snarl, Seongjun's eyes traveled over her. Today she wore an ivory waffle-knit dress that clung to every curve. Flaunting the enormous swell of that rack while her waist nipped in absurdly — seriously? Since when did Choi Jian have a body this devastating? Set against ten years ago in that battered old school uniform, the Jian in front of me was a butterfly freshly out of its cocoon.
"Why are you staring like that? Am I that pretty?"
If the noona of those days had been a gloomy, rain-soaked flower, the noona of now was a bright, polished bloom. The dangerously bare midriff on display beneath the waffle dress, the cinched waist, the long pale sweep of her legs — more than enough to set any man's heart racing.
"Uh... you're fucking bea—"
"Hm?"
But no — he couldn't just blurt out the words sitting in his chest. Seongjun wrenched at the restraints binding his limbs and glared up at her.
"You fucking psycho... if you're going to abduct a man and torture him, at least feed him while you do it. Fuck... what is this, Auschwitz?"
"What?"
In her mini dress she came closer, beaming without a care in the world. Beaten to a pulp though he was, some faint, subtle fragrance reached him — maybe the treatment had cleared his head.
"I'll say it again... Seongjun, you are so sexy when you curse."
Her eyes gazing up at him from beneath his chin were large and lovely. The scar on her forehead flashed into view, but her porcelain, radiant face was captivating enough to dissolve such a flaw in a single glance. And yet an act wholly contrary to those feelings burst out of Seongjun all the same. His resolve must have been firmly set — he was as grimly determined as some freedom fighter possessed.
"KHAWK— ptui! You trashy skank...."
The thick wad of spit Seongjun launched slid down beneath Jian's left eye. Oh crap! Had I overdone it? A cold prickle of fear, and Seongjun's eyes darted around, scanning for any baseball bats in the vicinity. But her startled look melted, almost immediately, into something dazzling.
Slurp—
Slurp, she says.... Her tongue swept up the thick saliva trailing down her left cheek and swallowed it whole. Watching it happen, Seongjun sat stunned, unable to string a sentence together for a good while.
"You fucking filthy...."
"Filthy?... It's delicious. Very sweet, Seongjun."
But then something strange happened. His heart was pounding, and for the life of him he couldn't say why. And as if it were the most natural next step, blood began pooling, inch by inch, in the cock swelling inside his pants.
"Spit on me again. This time I'll swallow every last drop of it, okay?"
"G-get away from me! You lunatic bitch!"
Apparently finding it hilarious, Jian clung to him, laughing an ahahaha— like it was the funniest thing in the world. The sudden wave of her plush curves and the faint soap scent worming up his nose sent his cock into open riot. Seongjun was pouring every scrap of strength he had into pinning his engorged dick against his thigh.
"I had you pegged as a med-school dork, but where on earth did you learn to swear like that? The army? Do all you Marine ahjussis curse like that?"
"I said get the hell off me, you mutt of a bitch!"
Yes, the swearing had been learned in the Marine Corps, true enough. He'd both endured and dished out profanity of the most outlandish kind.
"Ahahaha~ 'Swipe your pussy'? What is that even supposed to mean? Seongjun, I've honestly never heard that one before."
She was laughing. He'd only been spewing whatever came to mind, but apparently the sight of her smiling — round eyes curving into crescents — was worth the effort. For the first time in his life, Seongjun felt proud to have completed his service as a Marine grunt rather than a military doctor.
"But you know what... Seongjun?"
Her gaze, tilted up at him from under his chin, shifted in an instant. It turned so cold — like a draft of winter air sweeping through a sealed room.
"Don't ever say my blood is dirty. I heard that from that bitch Wonyoung until my ears festered."
That was a phrase I'd heard plenty of myself. Maybe that was why it had slipped out on pure reflex.
"Say my blood is dirty one more time, and I might just kill you."
It was a warning cold enough to drop frost in midsummer, but once his mind was made up, Seongjun couldn't very well tuck his tail and retreat.
"F-fuck you, bitch...."
Tense, he gulped down a mouthful of dry spit hard enough to make his Adam's apple bob. But at the sight of it, Jian began to laugh out loud.
"Ahahaha! Adorable, seriously. So much force behind it, our Seongjun."
Then, turning her eyes to the cameras planted around the room, she spoke.
"Secretary Kim! Our Seongjun looks thirsty. Bring him some water, would you?"
Now that he looked, the facility had speakers and zoom microphones embedded everywhere alongside the cameras. As Seongjun cast wary, haunted glances around the space — clunk— someone appeared.
"Yeah, just set the water down there."
The man referred to as the secretary.... was not a man at all, but unmistakably a woman. Her build was nothing short of monstrous — if not for the bun hairstyle and the lipstick, her appearance could easily be mistaken for a man's.
"There we go. Our Seongjun's thirsty, isn't he?"
She poured the water the secretary had brought, glug-glug, into a stainless steel vessel that looked for all the world like a dog bowl. Seongjun's parched throat answered before his brain did; he caught himself smacking his lips.
"Time to drink your water now, hm?"
But then she suddenly pursed her lips. And into the sloshing steel container, she began spitting her thick saliva, one glistening glob at a time.