L*st and Death

"Please, me, huff, just do something, huht, save me..."

Coming to from his brief blackout, Siron replayed the bastard’s nonsense in his dazed mind.

Save you? Shouldn’t I be the one begging to be saved? Who’s going to save me? Am I really going to get raped by this piece of shit and then murdered like some pitiful animal?

At that moment, the man’s glans touched Siron’s hole. Unbelievably, a sharp jolt surged through his tailbone, and his hole twitched in response.

“No! Don’t! Stop!”

Blood rushed hot with masochistic pleasure, his mind felt like it was being torn apart by blades. His heart pounded so violently it hurt.

Clang!

A sudden, dull, metallic chime rang out. It sounded like a shattered bell being smashed by a slab of iron.

“You fuckin’ son of a bitch!”

The crushing weight pinning Siron down gradually lifted. The man collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. Someone else had entered.

The sharp sound of someone beating stiff leather—flesh and bone—and the storm of savage curses struck Siron’s eardrums like thunder.

Shaking uncontrollably, Siron scrambled toward the wall to escape the chaos. Curled in on himself like a pill bug, he watched in terror as the new intruder half-murdered the man.

“Fucking die, you dogshit bastard!”

In the intruder’s hand was the iron frying pan Siron had dropped. He was mercilessly smashing the unconscious man’s face with it. First came the rapist. Now came the murderer.

“What... what is this...”

In the dim, murky light of the room, Siron’s eyes locked onto the intruder swinging the pan. His breath caught. It was Baek Kyung.

Baek Kyung was beating the man like he was slaughtering a beast, relentless until the pan dented inward and blood spilled through the white tiles, reaching Siron’s bare feet. Siron, stunned by the sheer brutality pouring off Baek Kyung, finally snapped back to awareness.

They’d passed the point of self-defense long ago. The thought that Baek Kyung was fully capable of killing someone sent a tremor through Siron’s already shaking body. He forced himself upright and shouted at him.

“St-Stop! You’re gonna kill him at this rate!”

Baek Kyung didn’t stop. He shifted the frying pan into a vertical grip—like a blade. There was no doubt he meant to pulp the man’s skull.

“Kyung-ah! Hey! Fucking Baek Kyung!”

Siron threw himself at him. But no matter how high he reached, his fingers couldn’t even graze the handle of the pan.

“Fuck off! Move!”

“No. He’ll die if you keep going!”

“Did that bastard get his dick in?”

“Wh-What?”

“Did he shove even one centimeter into your hole?!”

“......”

“You deaf? I’m asking about the condition of your asshole!”

Baek Kyung asked seriously, like Siron’s answer would determine whether the man lived or died. The usual glint of malicious amusement in his eyes was gone. There wasn’t a shred of humor in that deadly, fixed expression.

Siron realized this wasn’t the time to act tough. Provoking Baek Kyung now was dangerous. And yet, his tongue, trained by years of resentment, spat out its own reply.

“Don’t fucking act like we’re close enough to be checking in on each other’s assholes.”

Had Baek Kyung always been this tall? No matter what he did, Siron couldn’t wrest the frying pan from his grip. Baek Kyung stared down at him, unfazed, completely still.

“Yeah. You’re right. We’re not on asshole-checking terms. So—did that bastard stick it in?”

“For fuck’s sake—no, he didn’t!”

Only then did Baek Kyung ease up. He flung the frying pan to the floor with a loud clang. The iron smashed through a white tile, scattering shards across the room.

How the hell was he going to explain this to the manager? Who was going to pay for the repairs? For cleanup? His thoughts spiraled, finally landing on the source of all this—the man.

The attacker lay slumped on his side, unconscious. He looked almost peaceful, like he’d simply fallen asleep. The ambush had been so sudden he hadn’t even had time to resist before being beaten senseless. His face was shredded, swollen, and soaked in blood. In all the chaos and dim lighting, Siron hadn’t gotten a good look at him. If the man died with his face mangled like that, Siron would never know what he really looked like.

Squinting so he wouldn’t have to look at the grotesque erection still jutting from the man’s body, Siron shakily brought his trembling fingers to the man’s nose.

He was breathing. Weakly, but regularly.

The tension drained out of Siron, and he collapsed onto the floor. He wasn’t dead—yet. But if they left him like this, he might be soon. No matter how disgusting the bastard was, no matter how much Siron wanted Baek Kyung to rot in prison for life, they couldn’t just leave a corpse in Ikbal’s restaurant.

As Siron rushed toward the counter to grab his phone, Baek Kyung stepped in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

"911! He’s dying!"

“An alpha in rut doesn’t die this easy.”

“Ru—what? What the hell does that mean?”

“Ha, he reeks like hell to you.”

“Me? I smell?”

“How long are you planning to keep your pants down like that? Didn’t realize your hair grew back already just ‘cause I haven’t been managing it for you?”

That was a lie. The same person who now insulted him had been the one who’d meticulously lasered off every single follicle down there, until not even peach fuzz could grow. Siron burned with fury. He yanked his pants up from around his ankles just as he tried to call emergency again—but Baek Kyung pulled him back.

“Ugh—ow!”

Baek Kyung wrapped his arms tightly around Siron’s waist and hoisted him up like a wooden doll. Shoving aside the chair that had been flipped onto the table, he set Siron down on it, cupped the back of his head, and leaned in. His tongue slipped into Siron’s slack, frozen mouth, lazily dragging over the roof and behind his front teeth.

Siron jolted to awareness and tried to pull his head back, but the hand on the back of his skull slid down to his throat and tightened.

“Haah—mm—let—go!”

Baek Kyung bit down on his tongue, chewing like it was candy, then coiled around it and sucked wetly with a low chuckle. There was an almost joyful violence to him, as though he’d stumbled on something amusing and couldn’t wait to savor it. That raw, sadistic energy flooded out of him, demanding blind submission.

Siron could feel the weight of that pressure pressing down on his spine. He was running out of oxygen. But somehow, disgustingly, his body—like it had been waiting for this moment for the past four years—remembered how to respond. His nerves lit up with the muscle memory of pleasure. A shameful, involuntary anticipation that betrayed his will.

Baek Kyung finally released him, biting down hard on Siron’s swollen lower lip before pulling away.

“You’re still a drooler.”

Smack. He licked his lips and added, like he’d just tasted an interesting dish,

“Tastes better than before.”

Siron shoved Baek Kyung’s hand off his neck and glared at him.

“You know that? You fucking suck at dirty talk.”

“Mm. That why you didn’t get hard?”

Baek Kyung grinned. “How about now? Any better?”

“God. Don’t even talk.”

Siron couldn’t deal with him anymore. Not now. Not while the rapist was still bleeding out in a pool of blood. Siron tapped at his phone screen to call emergency services—only for Baek Kyung to snatch it out of his hand before he could even hit dial.

“Give it back! He’s going to die!”

“No cops. No paramedics. You let them get involved, it gets messy.”

“What—scared of going back to prison?”

“Does he have to live?”

“Please! What kind of question is that?!”

“It’s a valid one. Saw plenty of places to bury a body on the way here. Might as well kill him first and then move him.”

Siron had always known Baek Kyung had a fucked-up sense of morality, but somehow, he’d gotten even worse. As if ready to put his words into action, Baek Kyung bent down and picked up the discarded frying pan.

“Please! No! Don’t!”

“Move.”

“I said no! If you won’t call 911, just drop him at a hospital!”

“Tch. You really that desperate to save him?”

Baek Kyung glared at Siron like he was deliberately obstructing a perfectly logical plan.

“Yes! I have to save him!”

If Baek Kyung pushed just a little further, Siron would start crying from sheer rage. That shameless, lazy face of his—radiating sensual detachment—made Siron want to tear him apart. Baek Kyung followed a single drop of sweat slithering down Siron’s forehead, tracking its snakelike path with his eyes.

“If you suck my dick, maybe I’ll reconsider. Gotta confirm something.”

The moment Baek Kyung’s grin disappeared and his face turned serious, Siron’s hatred flared hot.

“What the fuck makes you any different from the rapist?”

“And you—why the fuck are you trying to save the bastard who just tried to rape you?”

“Because you don’t kill people!”

Baek Kyung shook his head and sighed like Siron’s righteous anger bored him.

“Fine. I’ll do it your way. But I am getting my dick sucked.”

Like it was the only possible outcome, Baek Kyung stated it plainly. Beating him by force had never been an option to begin with.

Siron looked from Baek Kyung to the dying man, torn between rage and futility. If it were up to him, he’d kill both of them a hundred times over. But he couldn’t turn Ikbal’s restaurant into a murder scene. And if Baek Kyung actually became a killer—?

No matter how much he hated him, the thought sent a chill crawling up his spine.

“Not now. O-Once we get him to a hospital, then I’ll... think about it.”

And then it hit him—something obvious.

“You brought your car?”

“Yeah. Why? You want to do it in the car?”

Baek Kyung said it like he was inviting him out for coffee. No urgency, no shame. Siron, who hadn’t known it was possible to want someone dead so fast, trembled in fury.

“Drive to the hospital. I know where to go.”

Baek Kyung tossed the man into the trunk like cargo. He spread Siron’s waterproof apron over the floor, lifted the man’s bleeding head, and shoved it underneath. The bastard groaned faintly in pain, but Baek Kyung didn’t give a damn.

“Back seat’s off-limits. It’s a new car.”

Wiping down the bent frying pan and blood-stained floor with paper towels, Baek Kyung packed everything into the trunk, then calmly got into the passenger seat.

“You driving?”

“You know the destination.”

Siron climbed into the driver’s seat, scanning the interior. It was a brand-new luxury sedan—the protective vinyl hadn’t even been peeled off yet. Baek Kyung clearly hadn’t brought a car with him. He must’ve flown into Baggers City, bought this thing right off a nearby lot, and come straight to Curry King.

“Where are we going?”

Baek Kyung reclined the passenger seat way back and asked casually.

“Dr. Johnson’s Urology Clinic.”

Something in Baek Kyung’s eyes shifted.

“Urology?”

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