TCBW C63(NSFW)

Chapter 63

The moment Suhoe’s back touched the cold elevator wall, he gave a small gasp, startled by the sting and icy sensation. Dowoon seized that fleeting pause and descended upon him, lips crashing over his breath as though devouring it.

What followed was a rough, unrestrained kiss.

One that granted no room to breathe—an onslaught that threatened to consume every last breath.

Panting shakily, Suhoe endured the fierce assault of Dowoon’s lips.

Dowoon seized both of Suhoe’s wrists in a hard grip, lifting them above his head, while the other arm locked firmly around his waist.

He did not once stop the relentless, breath-stealing kiss.

A solid body he had not felt in so long, a familiar, coarse heat.

The moment Suhoe’s skin touched Dowoon’s, his pheromones bloomed, spreading uncontrollably, regardless of his own will.

Dowoon, meanwhile, pushed Suhoe to breathlessness while forcibly restraining his own pheromones—maintaining reason and releasing only a slow, measured trickle.

Suddenly, he lowered his head, burying his face in the curve of Suhoe’s neck and inhaled deeply.

A fragrance of flowers overflowed.

“Mm….”

Suhoe let out an involuntary moan at the movement.

Dowoon deftly undid Suhoe’s jumpsuit and slipped his hand inside.

The soft, wet interior clenched so tightly that even slipping in one finger felt like a struggle.

Dowoon bit and nibbled at the tip of Suhoe’s ear before murmuring low:

“Just a few days without fucking you and you’re already this tight. You know that? That this is what you’re like inside?”

“A-ah…”

Suhoe’s youthful, trembling voice rang in his ears, and Dowoon lost the last of his restraint. Pressing their bodies flush, he lifted Suhoe into his arms.

“Put it… in.”

“…What?”

His movements halted at that single utterance.

He knew Suhoe had recently been to the hospital—he should have heard that his body wasn’t in good condition. So why say something like that?

Was he doing it on purpose?

As though he didn’t care what happened to his body—almost as if he wanted to break.

“…Ha.”

Dowoon breathed out, teeth grinding, and forced Suhoe’s face up.

“Right. We need to fulfill our contract. Breathe in.”

He exhaled the words like a command and pressed his lips to Suhoe’s once more.

Moments later, Dowoon frantically slammed the elevator button open and strode into his office.

Haeon might have been there, but Suhoe’s eyes were already glazed, too far gone to realize anyone else could be present.

Dowoon sat Suhoe atop his desk and stripped his clothes quickly. Without a gap between them, facing him directly, he pushed fingers into Suhoe’s wet entrance.

“Mmnn….”

Two fingers entered at once, sinking into slick walls.

“I’m putting it in.”

He pressed the tip of his member to Suhoe’s entrance.

But Suhoe only panted, unable to speak.

“Answer me.”

“…Yes.”

Barely managing a reply, Suhoe gave consent. At that soft affirmation, Dowoon drove in without hesitation.

There had been no preparation, so the inside was tight—so tight that even pushing in the head was difficult, yet Dowoon did not stop, burrowing in, relishing the sensation of being tightly squeezed with every thrust.

“Mmnh…”

Until the tip of him reached Suhoe’s cervix.

“I’m going to release inside.”

“A-ah!”

Suhoe could only scream, breath nearly torn away by the overwhelming rush of sensation.

To Dowoon, that cry was consent. He buried himself fully inside, stared at Suhoe’s unfocused eyes, and began to move his hips.

It had only been a little over a week apart, yet this feverish excitement felt like something he had long been starved of.

As he neared climax, Dowoon crushed Suhoe tightly in his arms, like he intended to pour everything into the deepest part of him and leave his mark there.

But at the final moment, he caught hold of a fraying thread of reason. Panting harshly, he pulled out rapidly.

His desire spilled helplessly across Suhoe’s pale body, already limp from multiple climaxes.

“…Damn it.”

He muttered a low curse at his own contradiction.

Going to the hospital had become routine.

On the appointed day and time, he would get into the car driven by the chauffeur, head to the hospital, check in electronically, and sit to wait for his name to be called—every step worn into habit.

“Here alone again today? Your husband must be very busy.”

Suhoe gave the nurse a faint smile; that, too, was part of habit.

Every time she asked the same question, he thought of Dowoon, who had ordered him to receive treatment.

Cold antiseptic swab on his arm, then the sting of a needle piercing his vein—his focus shifted to the IV bag half-filled with clear liquid.

He stared at the steady drip, listening blankly to the murmur of a young couple’s voices behind the curtain—another routine.

“Suhoe-nim, you’re free to go now.”

“Yes.”

As the curtain drew back, Suhoe found himself unable to look away from the couple.

“You know you stare at couples every time, right?”

“Huh? I do?”

“Yes.”

The nurse chuckled softly.

“That’s why I always ask whether your husband didn’t come. Have you ever asked him to come with you?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You never know. If you ask, he might.”

Suhoe couldn’t answer.

“If you don’t say it, he may truly never know.”

A strange misunderstanding, he thought—yet he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken to Dowoon since his return.

“The necklace ordered late last year has been received by Saeman Group’s secretary office this afternoon.”

Dowoon’s brow creased faintly at Haeon’s report.

“Pointless.”

“The order was placed last year. I couldn’t cancel it. I attempted to redirect it to Madam Han, but that was not possible either.”

“That woman will misunderstand again.”

“My apologies.”

A luxury necklace had arrived at Saeman Distribution’s secretary office. Addressed to Director Han Sara.

Sender: Yongseong Finance CEO, Lee Dowoon.

Fuel for gossip—ironically caused by Haeon’s efficiency.

Every year-end, Dowoon sent gifts to the women he saw. As usual, Haeon prepared one, assuming it might be for Director Han.

But production took far longer than expected, and by the time it arrived, the new year had changed everything.

“Handle the misunderstanding with Secretary Choi.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It may be better to just leave it as your gift,” Haeon ventured. “If you intend to use Director Han as an asset.”

“Secretary Choi. I make those decisions.”

His tone cut sharply, and Haeon bowed at once.

“…Apologies.”

Dowoon did not pursue the issue. A pause, then Haeon spoke again, hesitant.

“You… won’t be going home today? It’s past midnight.”

“Get to the point.”

Haeon smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I prepared a gift. Things someone in their early twenties would like.”

Dowoon didn’t understand at first.

“Today is the 13th, so… yesterday was Madam’s birthday.”

“Birthday?”

He murmured absently, scanning the piles of documents on his desk—urgent tasks and preparations for a product launch. None could be delayed.

And more than that, Suhoe’s recent demeanor nagged at him.

Since the day he asked permission to work, something had changed. Avoiding him, speaking less, avoiding his gaze.

Dowoon suspected the reason, but he had no intention of confirming it—not now.

“Send the gift to him.”

“Yes.”

“All of this is really for me?”

Haeon placed several shopping bags before him and nodded. Suhoe could hardly believe it.

“Prepared by the Chairman.”

“There’s too much. It looks expensive…”

“He’d say, ‘All of it is yours. If you don’t want it, I’ll throw it away.’”

“But I can’t even use these…”

“Consider it a gesture.”

“A gesture…”

“Unless there was something else you wanted?”

“…No. Nothing like that.”

He did not know whether someone like him—a mere vessel for misfortune—was allowed to want anything at all.