Taewoo lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind still reeling from the morning's revelations. Dante Moretti. The Enigma from that night. The man who had been looking for him for eight years.
Eight years, he thought, his jaw tightening. Eight years of thinking I'd buried that night, and now he shows up at a dinner party like it's nothing.
His body, however, had other ideas.
Taewoo shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar tightness in his pants. His cock was hard, pressing insistently against the fabric, demanding attention he didn't want to give.
Fuck, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Not now. Not with everything else going on.
But his body didn't care about his mental state. The adrenaline from the morning, the shock of Dante's revelation, the lingering tension from the dinner...it all combined into a familiar, unwelcome arousal.
"Fuck that shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the bed. "I don't want to do this. But I have to."
He stalked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with more force than necessary. The shower was already running from his earlier attempt to calm down, steam fogging the mirrors.
He stripped off his clothes, his movements jerky and frustrated. His cock stood out against his stomach, red and aching, and he hated it. Hated the way his body responded to stress with this primal, stupid need.
Just get it over with, he told himself. Just do it and move on.
He stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his shoulders. He leaned one hand against the tile wall, closed his eyes, and wrapped his other hand around his length.
He tried to think of nothing. Tried to make it mechanical, clinical. Just a physical release, nothing more.
But his mind betrayed him.
Grey eyes. A low, commanding voice. The phantom weight of a presence that had dominated him completely.
Fuck, he thought, his hand moving faster. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He hated that his body remembered. Hated that the memory of being overpowered, of being claimed, still had the power to affect him like this.
His breath came in short, sharp gasps. He was close, so close...
The bathroom door burst open.
"TAEWOO! I NEED..."
Taewoo's eyes snapped open. His brother Doyoon stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide with shock.
For a long, terrible moment, neither of them moved.
Then Doyoon's face split into a grin. "Oh, my god. Oh my god. What the hell are you doing?!"
Taewoo's face flushed a deep, mortified red. He snatched a towel off the rack, holding it over his groin. "WHAT THE HELL, DOYOON?! I'M IN THE SHOWER!"
"I thought you were just standing there! You always take forever!" Doyoon was laughing now, actually laughing, tears streaming down his face. "Oh my god, I thought you were asexual! You told everyone you were asexual!"
"I never said that! I said I was most likely..." Taewoo sputtered, his face burning. "GET OUT!"
But Doyoon wasn't moving. He was leaning against the doorframe, clutching his stomach, howling with laughter. "This is amazing. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. My webtoon...I have to rewrite my webtoon. My villain can't be asexual now, I have to..."
"DOYOON! GET OUT! NOW!"
"You were jerking off! In the shower! My little brother, the asexual doctor, was..."
"IT'S A NATURAL FUNCTION! EVERYONE DOES IT!"
"I don't! I have a girlfriend for that!"
"THEN YOU'RE LUCKY! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BATHROOM!"
Doyoon finally stopped laughing long enough to take a breath. He wiped his eyes, still grinning like a maniac. "Okay, okay, I'm going. But I'm never letting you live this down. Ever."
"Doyoon, I swear to god..."
"You can't threaten me, Taewoo. I have blackmail material now. This is the greatest day of my life."
He finally left, closing the door behind him, but Taewoo could still hear his laughter echoing down the hallway.
Taewoo stood in the shower, his erection completely gone now, replaced by a burning, all-consuming mortification. He wanted to sink through the floor and disappear.
This is the worst day ever, he thought. Worse than the dinner. Worse than Dante. Worse than everything.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. His face was still hot, his heart still pounding. He could hear Doyoon's laughter echoing in his head.
I'm never going to live this down. He's going to tell everyone. Junseo. Yura. Jiho. My father. My mother. The entire family will know.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against the cool tile of the wall.
I hate my life.