Blood Is Thicker Than Water (6)
A physique twenty centimeters taller than mine. A solid, hard body that feels a world away from being "gentle" or "cute." Pulled by that presence, I am forced toward the bed.
"…Ah."
Bigger than mine. Rougher than mine. Hotter than mine. Darker in color than mine. Woojin’s hand. It’s a hand that feels more fitting for an oppa than a younger brother. Caught in his grip without a shred of resistance—or rather, accompanied by a silent permission rather than force—I head toward the bed.
"You asked me to treat you like a junior earlier, and now you want me to treat you roughly?"
His voice is laced with a faint, amused laughter. "Why the sudden change? You said it yourself last time. You didn't like that I didn't treat you like a noona, and you hated being called oppa."
Whispers. His voice is low, clean, and carries a hint of composure. "…Did you feel threatened because of Jiyoon earlier?"
"Ah, no? It’s not like that…."
"Then why?"
"…Ju, just…. I wondered if you’d like it…."
"…Ah, you thought I’d like it."
"…."
"'Thought I'd like it'… huh."
Then, his voice drops as he pulls my wrist. That voice… unfortunately, it’s exactly my type. Every time I hear it, my heart makes an embarrassing sound. It’s a voice far closer to the word oppa than dongsaeng—closer to the word "man" or "male." It’s a voice that doesn't feel the least bit awkward even when I call him oppa.
"Hayoon-ah."
But he says, "…It’s okay."
"…Eh?"
"I don't like it when people force themselves to match my tastes, or, well… do things like that."
Instead of coming a step closer to devour me, he maintains a subtle distance, returning to the role of the younger brother. He gently strokes my hair, which had been filled with embarrassing fantasies of being ravaged—truly, messily ravaged—this time.
"Hoo…."
"…."
With one arm wrapped around my lower abdomen, he lies down on the bed with me. Just like a perfectly ordinary couple.
"Hey. Lee Hayoon."
"…Ye, yes?"
"…You don't have to force yourself to pretend you like things you hate just to match my tastes."
"…Things I hate…?"
The bed is already dyed in a scarlet hue. He pulls me close like a doll and whispers into my ear.
"Yeah. You don't really like it when I handle you roughly, do you, Hayoon?"
"…Ah…?"
"Like when we went to see that movie the other day…. It felt like you were just thinking, 'I'll let my noona win this once.'"
"…."
Did I act in a way that made him feel that way? I frantically searched through my blurred memories, but I couldn't be sure. I don't hate it. In fact, my tastes lean closer to that side. But it would look strange to just blurt out, "I want to be raped by you!" So, I slowly keep my lips shut, trying to think of a better answer. Well, even then, is there any argument more valid than just being honest?
"In the first place, you don't really know what kind of things I want to do."
"…."
…Is, is that so? Now that I think about it, I definitely… didn't know much at all. I only knew that Woojin gets excited when I call him oppa. That was the extent of my knowledge. But does Woojin really have such aggressive tastes? Didn't I overinterpret things? …Listening to him, he doesn't seem uninterested, but I really don't know the extent of it.
"So, let's stop talking about that here."
"…."
"Hoo…. So that’s why you even took out your high school uniform to wear. I’ve made things troublesome for you. Sorry."
His voice is strangely languid compared to a moment ago. When I turn my head, I see Seo Woojin with his eyes half-closed, looking exhausted. No, he’s actually rubbing his face against my shoulder with his eyes almost completely shut now. …He’s like a giant, big dog.
While I felt myself growing just as languid as him, a thought struck me.
"…."
…It’s not even dinner time yet, so why is he this tired? My focus shifts to that. And along with it, the image in my head of what Woojin was doing before he came here. What kind of sounds were coming from Jiyoon’s room? …And the three wet condoms I just threw into my trash can.
"…."
…Ah. That’s what it means.
"…Hey. Seo Woo…jin."
"I'm listening."
"…You said I don't know your tastes well."
"…Yeah."
Not as a doll in a school uniform, but as person to person. Unlike me, who is fully dressed, I wrap my arms around his bare waist and speak.
"…Tell me. Your tastes."
"…."
"I can just learn them… right?"
"…."
"Ma, maybe… there might be some overlap…."
Slowly, Woojin meets my gaze.
"If, if it’s something really weird, I’ll tell you straight up that I hate it…!"
"…Weird? Like what?"
"Well, anal is absolutely out of the question, right? And also…. There are other fetishes I hate, too…."
"…."
"…Just say it for now. ……Your tastes…."
"…."
"I’ll give you permission for the ones that are okay for you to do to me…."
…It just occurred to me, but he was acting so tired just a moment ago. Yet, I don't think I’ve seen him rub his eyes even once. Woojin.
"Hey, Woojin……, …Hick?! Wa, wait…. Stop with the fingers…."
I thought wrong. I shouldn't have just thought about pleasing Woojin; I should have thought about myself, too, at least a little.
"…I thought you said that much was okay. No?"
"That’s right. It is, bu…t…?!?"
After a brief moment of confession. …To everything Woojin said. To the things that were similar to my tastes. To the things that were a little different. …What would happen if we really did them? Even to the fact that my heart was pounding with anticipation—because I didn't shake my head side to side, but instead nodded vigorously, my thighs, spread wide, tremble uncontrollably against my will.
"It’s still just fingers, Hayoon-ah."
"Haak……. Huk…. …Ung-hyak…."
"You said earlier that you liked it when I rammed it in hard with my cock, too."
"This is, fingers, though…."
"Exactly. Like you said, it’s just fingers. For now."
"Hiyat…, Ugh?! Ugh…! Clit, stoop…."
If it were the usual Woojin, he would have given me a break. …Ah, no. That’s not it. He would have just forced me to climax when I asked him to stop, just to watch me twitch. Just like now.
"I'm comi…, I, I'm coming…. Comi……?"
Right before I’m about to go, he pulls his wet, slick fingers away from my clitoris for a moment.
"…Woojin-ah. Woojin-aaaah…."
"We agreed to use formal language, didn't we?"
"…Oppa…. Sunbae…. Hurry…. The, the fingers…."
"…How do you want me to do it?"
Watching the shivering tremors subside. Instead of waiting for the slick fluid to leak out from deep inside me.
"…Clit…. Press, press…."
"Like this?"
"Ung…, don't touch it gently…. A little more…. A little harder…."
"…."
He doesn't just rub my clitoris with a pressure that could never satisfy me. He would have just sent me over the edge. Making me jerk my hips and soak the floor, whispering softly in my ear that it’s okay to go. But that’s… because Woojin wants to see my face as I’m teased to the brink…. Ugh….
"Haa…. Haa…."
The high school uniform, filled with the scent of air freshener. Beneath it, his hand, soaked in my fluids, touches the plaid skirt. …I didn't even give him permission yet. He’s just using his hand to wipe himself off as if it were a towel.
"…."
The fact that I’m looking down at him, swallowing hard instead of feeling disgusted by it… is also… a little disgusting.
"……! …Hu, ugh!"
Right before I go, but failing to reach it in the end. While I’m still caught in that precarious lingering feeling, trying to catch my breath, Woojin slides down and pulls my hips back into position. …At the head of the bed. Between his legs, where he sits comfortably. Sitting there like a younger sister in her oppa