My hyung sat up and drew two pieces of tissue to help me clean my ass. He grabbed my ankle and lifted my leg, cleaning the filth in my ass and on my thighs. Occasionally, he inserted his finger into my hole to draw out the cum and traces of blood inside, cleaning it up.
"You made me bleed again, didn't you?"
"A little."
"You said before that you wouldn't injure me. If you continue being like this I won't believe you anymore."
"Mm...no, believe me."
"Forget it, I won't make a fuss over this with you...don't take me as a free prostitute to fuck either...every time after you fuck me, it hurts when I shit. What if one day you fuck me until it splits and I have to go get stitches at the hospital? I won't do it, I won't go, it's too damn embarrassing..."
At first, I was chattering endlessly with my eyes closed, grabbing the pillow tightly. Later, I somehow ended up hugging my hyung, my chin resting on his shoulder as I hoarsely said in fragmented sentences that it hurt and I was bleeding.
My hyung embraced me. He balled up the dirtied tissues and tossed them into the rubbish bin. He patted my butt, asking me softly, "Don't you like getting fucked?"
Right now, I didn't have much physical strength left, so it was easy for my mental strength to be exhausted as well. Hearing him ask this, I was dazed for a few seconds. I didn't know whether to nod or to shake my head. I didn't purely like to be fucked; if I could fuck my hyung, it would feel good too. The key factor was that the person I was making love to had to be Jungkook. The person who could both excite me the most and comfort me the most during sex was my hyung.
Besides, even if we didn't make love and only kissed when our lips and tongues entangled, goosebumps still rose across my whole body from head to toe.
Or even if we didn't kiss, every morning when I woke up and saw his sleeping face so close to mine, his lashes occasionally brushing against the tip of my nose, I would smile.
My hyung was quite an intelligent person. Why was it that he couldn't understand something so simple?
I adjusted his head so that he had to look me in the eye, and then asked him a question I had always wanted to ask.
"Hyung, do you like me? Is it the same kind of 'like' as that between boyfriends?"
He didn't make a sound. After a while, he threw the question back at me, "How about you?"
I said yes.
Rashness and rebelliousness were privileges that belonged exclusively to people like me of this age. I wasn't like Jungkook, considering a future that we couldn't see or touch. So I told him clearly that at this moment, right now, I wanted to be his brother, and I wanted to marry him too. I didn't like girls, and I didn't like men either. I wasn't heterosexual, and I wasn't homosexual either. When others broke up, they could at least still search for another lover, but when I was broken up, I would only become an orphan.
I felt that in the face of an uncontrollably explosive love affair, moral principles could be overlooked. Even if continuing to indulge ourselves would eventually lead to us destroying each other's lives, there was nothing that could be done about it. I couldn't think so far ahead. I only knew that at this moment, if I lost Jungkook, I would yearn for death. Embracing him was a kind of natural instinct to save myself.
He suddenly pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapped around me so tight that I could barely breathe. I couldn't move, so I could only lie in his chest and hear the strong pounding inside. My hyung's heart seemed to be telling me rhythmically, "I, love, you, but, I'm, a, coward."
That's alright, I was going to become a grown-up very soon. I hoped that I could grow to be a centimetre taller than my hyung so that I could protect my cowardly hyung. I knew that in the eyes of most people, we freaks were no different from criminals, but I still couldn't help but kiss my partner in crime.
Jungkook's kiss was skilful and ruthless, taking all the breath in my lungs away. His whole body was pressed against mine and his left hand with pus seeping out tightly grabbed the back of my neck.
The oxygen in my body was rapidly being used up, and my head starting to feel muddled from the lack of oxygen. I gradually started to suffocate in his hand, the instinct of struggling my way out unavoidable. I desperately pulled off his hand on my neck. In reality, inside my heart, I was calmly waiting for my hyung to cure me with death by his own hands. In his agonised and dazed eyes, I saw a little bird singing, and found an answer--
If I died, I just had to stand on the spot and wait for a minute, or five, and my hyung would come and find me. We would hold hands and look for an amicable set of parents together. I wanted to leave a note behind before I died to have a few words carved on the tombstone of our joint burial: 'Here lies two people who can't swim; they drowned to their deaths in love.'
But I also wanted a burial at sea in exchange for freedom in our second life.
I suddenly managed to breathe in some air. The shackle on my neck had disappeared, replaced by Jungkook pinning me down and kissing me crazily. Our naked bodies entangled, our sex organs rubbing against each other until they were both erect. We tumbled about from the head of the bed to the foot of the bed, biting each other's bodies like dogs and branding each other with mottled scarlet love bites that acted as slave marks.
He put his fingers into my mouth, clasping my tongue as he asked me in a low voice by my ear, "Will Taehyung blame me in the future?"
I spat out his fingers and then helped to lick the saliva dripping from his fingers clean. I beat around the bush, "Hyung, you're so pretty, very pretty, more good-looking than women, and most alluring when you reveal half of your waist and ass as you urinate..."
I definitely wouldn't blame him, but I didn't have any evidence. I didn't promise him anything, I just let him see for himself.
My hyung lifted the blanket up and covered us all the way over our heads. This way, we couldn't see each other's tearful and crazy, bright red eyes. I kissed his lips, and he responded with a passionate French kiss. It was incomparably tender.
We kissed nonstop until both of us were panting heavily and silently lying down side by side. I rested my head on his arm and he held me close.
He held a cigarette in his mouth and took a lighter out to light it up, then tapped it lightly against the ashtray, "If you were my son, you'd make me need to beat you to death and retrain you."
I pillowed my head on my hand and propped my legs up, crossing them, "The script in my head last night was like this; Dad would do some crap to me, then you'd get pissed to death and decide to lock Dad in jail, plus land him with a charge that would get him executed by a firing squad."
"The script was, by and large, followed," my hyung let out a cold laugh, "I did get pissed to death."
"Tsk...all would have been settled if you didn't save me...it wasn't written in the script for you to be a damsel saving the hero in distress..."
Smoke slowly billowed out of his mouth. He ruffled my hair and said, If I didn't save you, I wouldn't be your hyung.
He also said that regarding Dad, he would settle it as he saw fit. But reading between the lines, it meant that he would consider my wishes.
"Getting back on topic," My hyung flipped on his side and moved closer to me, the tip of his nose faintly brushing against my cheek as he asked, "What did you say just now? Who's the damsel?"
I said, "You."
He gave my butt a pinch and took advantage of me opening my mouth to yelp to kiss me, sending a mouthful of smoke into my mouth, choking me.
"Don't do that again."
"Okay, Hyung."
We messed about in bed for a while. My hyung glanced at his watch and threw on some clothes, "I have to go apologise to the directors today and explain why I ran off in the middle of the meeting."
"Are you not going to the hospital first?" I saw how haggard he looked and really wanted to say something like 'I'll go on your behalf, you rest properly today', but I didn't have the ability to. I didn't want to cause him more trouble. When I grew up, I would help him shoulder a bit of his exhaustion.
The porridge the lady had cooked had gone cold already. My hyunge went to the kitchen to ladle a bowl for himself. I hid outside and secretly peeked at him through the gap in the door. I saw him hesitate between the two pots of porridge, ultimately choosing the pot that looked worse to ladle a bowl of porridge out from before bringing the bowl out.
I had already tasted the porridge. Although the porridge I had cooked didn't smell tasty or look good, the rice was very soft and mushy. It wouldn't hurt his stomach.
I anxiously looked at him. When my hyung ate, he chewed and swallowed slowly. I sat at the side of the table with my cheek resting in my hand, watching him. I silently appreciated the porcelain sculpture I had paid big bucks to get in my possession. I was very scared to crack him again, so I carefully arranged and cleaned him.
The previous night, I had stayed up in a daze throughout. Now that I was relaxed, my mind felt muddled as though I had gotten drunk. Actually, I wanted to have him stay at home and accompany me today, but I couldn't continue being so wilful.
My hyung drank half a bowl of porridge and put down his chopsticks, throwing on his suit jacket before leaving the house.
I couldn't help but put my hand out the moment the door was about to close, grabbing onto the hem of his suit.
The heavy security door slammed against my wrist, the bones and muscles inside hurting sharply. A tremor ran through my hyung's body and he immediately turned around to hold my hand in his, rubbing it as he stared at me with alarm in his eyes.
I secretly played a dirty trick, pulling him over. Taken by surprise, he stumbled onto me and we both fell onto the carpet. This time, I was beneath him, preventing his suit from being dirtied.
"You want another beating?" My hyung was frowning again. I hadn't seen his canine teeth in a long time.
"Hubby," I called out subconsciously.
My hyung's eyes widened. He parted his lips slightly for a while, but nothing came out. His eyes were really very good-looking, the corners raised, like the quirked-up feathers of a bird.
I suddenly regretted calling him that. He was clearly my girlfriend, yet I was showing my weak side to him. I pushed him off my body and suppressed my feelings of shame and humiliation as I escaped in the direction of the bedroom.
I had just taken two steps forward when a pair of hands tightened around my waist. Soon after, my hyung pressed against me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. He replied huskily, "Mn, continue."
I said to him, "I'll do my best to study properly and get into a university near our home. I'll study whatever degree that can be used to help you next time...help me think of one."
When he left the house to go to work, I sprawled out on the balcony watching him. I pulled out the roses he had given me from the drawer under the bed, untied the ribbon and scattered them down.
It was drizzling and my hyung was cleaning the car's wing mirrors. The mouldy and shrivelled flower petals landed all over his body. He raised his head to look at me, and all I did was smile.