They Kidnapped the Wrong Boy, So He Stayed novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Search
Woo-jin strips him to look for a wire, keeps touching, and makes him come in his hand; then he pockets a phone with eleven missed calls from M.
Beom-su cleaned the cut, wound a white bandage around Do-hyun's finger, and went out without a word.
The door closed behind him, and a lock turned on the far side.
Do-hyun sat in the chair with his wrists free and his heart still going hard.
Woo-jin had not left.
He stood by the glass wall with his back to the river, turning Do-hyun's phone over in one hand.
"Stand up," he said.
"Why?"
"You came to me in a hoodie with a broken phone and a bank account that moves seven hundred million won in a night. I want to know what else you carry."
Do-hyun got to his feet.
His knees held, which surprised him.
"I'm not wearing a wire, Mr. Gu."
"Then it takes a minute. Take off the hoodie."
Do-hyun looked at the door, then at the man, then at the long white room with its one enormous bed.
He pulled the hoodie over his head and dropped it on the floor.
Cold air touched his bare chest, and he lifted his chin and stared at the wall behind Woo-jin's shoulder.
"The rest."
"You're enjoying this."
"I'm thorough," Woo-jin said. "Whether I enjoy it is not your business."
Do-hyun kicked off his shoes.
He unbuttoned his jeans with a bandaged finger that burned, shoved them down, and stepped out of them.
He stood in his grey underwear with his arms at his sides.
"All of it, kid."
His face went hot.
He pushed the underwear down and kicked it away.
He stood naked in a room full of light while the stranger who had cut him looked at his body.
Woo-jin did not hurry.
He set the phone on the desk and came across the floor, and his hands began at Do-hyun's collarbones.
They were warm and dry and slow.
They pressed along his shoulders, down his arms, over the ribs, searching for tape and wire and finding only skin.
Do-hyun held very still.
Under his ribs the touch turned flat and firm, and his stomach pulled in.
"You're thin," Woo-jin said.
"I'm a student."
"You don't eat," Woo-jin said.
"I eat when I can afford it."
The hands slid around his waist and down over the small of his back.
Woo-jin stood close behind him now, and his breath moved against the back of Do-hyun's neck.
His palms went over Do-hyun's hips, the tops of his thighs, the soft inside of them.
There was nothing to search there, and he searched it anyway.
Do-hyun's cock thickened.
He felt it begin and could do nothing about it, and heat crawled up his throat.
"That's just a reaction," he said through his teeth. "It's been a long night."
"Of course it has."
Woo-jin's voice was perfectly level.
One hand came around the front and rested low on Do-hyun's belly, an inch above the place where he was growing hard.
"You'd like to tell me to stop."
"Stop, then."
The hand did not move.
"Say it as though you mean it."
Do-hyun opened his mouth.
He had a whole speech ready, about kidnapping and knives and the police, and none of it came out.
What came out was a breath, a ragged one, when Woo-jin's fingers closed around his cock.
"Fuck you," Do-hyun said.
"Try again."
"You cut me," Do-hyun said.
"I did."
Woo-jin stroked him once, slowly, base to tip, with a grip that was dry and sure.
Do-hyun's knees nearly gave.
He grabbed the desk beside him, and the crystal bowl rattled.
"I hate you," he said. "I hate that this is working."
"I'm sure you do."
The other hand slid up his chest and around his throat.
It did not squeeze.
It only rested there, thumb under the hinge of his jaw, and held him back against Woo-jin's chest.
He could feel the whole length of the man at his back.
The shirt buttons, the belt, the hard line pressing against the base of his spine.
Woo-jin was hard too.
That was the thing that undid him.
It was not the hand on his cock or the hand on his throat.
It was the proof, against his back, that the controlled man with the cold voice was not controlled at all.
"Tell me you want me to stop," Woo-jin said into his ear.
"Don't stop."
It came out cracked and furious.
"Don't you fucking stop."
Woo-jin's hand sped up.
He stroked in long hard pulls.
The pad of his thumb dragged over the wet head on every upstroke until Do-hyun's hips began to follow it.
Do-hyun's hands clawed at the desk edge.
His forehead dropped, and his breath came out in short sounds he did not recognize as his own.
The room turned bright and narrow.
Sweat gathered at the small of his back and slid down between them.
"You'll come when I say," Woo-jin murmured.
"Like hell I will."
"Then hold on."
The grip tightened, and the stroke slowed until it was torture.
Do-hyun made a broken noise.
His thighs shook.
He pushed back against the hard shape at his spine.
Woo-jin made a low sound against his neck, the first sign he had given of anything at all.
"Please," Do-hyun said.
He heard himself and would have bitten off the word if he could.
"Please what?"
"You know what," Do-hyun said.
"Say it."
"Let me come," Do-hyun ground out. "Let me, you bastard."
"Now."
Do-hyun came with a shout that cracked in the middle.
His whole body locked.
The pleasure tore through his belly in long hot pulses.
Woo-jin worked him through every one, and he spilled over that fist and onto the white floor.
When it was over, Do-hyun hung in the circle of his arm, gasping, with his legs gone to water.
Woo-jin held him upright with the hand at his throat.
He let go slowly.
He stepped back, walked to the desk, and rinsed his hand with water from a bottle.
Then he took a cube from the bowl and brought it to Do-hyun's mouth.
"Open."
Do-hyun glared at him with his eyes wet and his face burning.
He opened his mouth.
The sugar was sweet, and he could taste salt under it from his own lip.
"Good," Woo-jin said, quietly.
The word went through Do-hyun like warm water, and he hated it more than the knife.
"I'll sleep on the floor," he said.
"You'll sleep in the bed. It's yours until I decide otherwise."
"And you?" Do-hyun asked.
"I have another room."
Woo-jin went to the desk and picked up the phone.
He thumbed the screen awake, and the light of it showed his face from below.
"A dozen missed calls," he said. "Since midnight."
Do-hyun's stomach went cold.
"All from a contact called M."
The room was very quiet.
"Who is M?" Woo-jin asked.
"My landlord," Do-hyun said.
Woo-jin looked at the screen, and then at him, and he slid the phone into his jacket pocket.
"Landlords don't call a dozen times before dawn," he said. "Go to bed, kid."
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