NHL 50

He then showed a sophisticated, artificial smile, the kind he might wear during a photo shoot. Joeon, failing to understand what Dylan was trying to appeal to him with, offered a blunt assessment: “That’s impressive.”

“You truly never fail to disappoint my expectations.”

“In what way?”

“It’s nothing.”

Dylan, recalling Joeon’s personality—which was far removed from anything flashy or worldly—briefly conceded his defeat. He had momentarily forgotten that Joeon was the type of person who showed no interest in things outside his own field of concern. One-dimensional attempts to appeal to his attractiveness like this didn’t work on Joeon.

Despite the fact that their bodies and minds were already aligned, Dylan still felt a subtle distance. The affection he received by reaching out both hands felt as incomplete as sand in one’s palm. Yet, feeling he shouldn’t even show that to Joeon, he held out a shirt.

“For now, shall we be satisfied with this for today?”

“Then let’s match the trousers and coat to this.”

Wearing the dark gray suit Joeon had chosen paired with the white shirt, Dylan stood before the full-length mirror. After straightening his waist, checking his profile, and staring into the front, he reached out an arm toward Joeon, who was standing awkwardly nearby.

“Why?”

“Come here for a second.”

Pulled by Dylan, Joeon stood in front of him without a clue as to why. Behind his own reflection in the mirror, he could see Dylan’s statue-like face, a head taller than his own.

Hugging him from behind, Dylan rested his chin lightly on the crown of Joeon’s head, wearing a gentle, peaceful smile as if he were comfortable. Joeon narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows.

“I know. That I’m only 5 feet 10 inches.”

Dylan, who had sent a suspicious look for a moment, laughed and soothed Joeon.

“It’s plenty.”

“Don’t lie. You have the exact expression of someone wanting to tease me.”

“Not at all. We have players in the 5-foot range on our team, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. There are plenty of players even smaller than that in the league. Have some confidence.”

“…Hmm, if you say so.”

The way Joeon would sharpen his claws and act fierce whenever Dylan seemed about to dig into his complexes, only to become docile immediately if soothed properly, was the most interesting and lovable part of him.

Dylan blew on Joeon’s hair with his breath, then pressed his lips against Joeon’s temple and rubbed. Pushed by the force, Joeon’s head tilted crookedly.

Occupied by that, Joeon didn’t even realize there was a wicked hand reaching from his waist, pulling his shirt out and diving inside. By the time he came to his senses, the buttons were already being undone one by one from the bottom.

“Wait, what, are you doing?”

“Hnn. It’s nothing.”

“Your hands seem to be taking my clothes off right now, Dylan.”

“Joeon, why were you wearing clothes anyway? It’s different from the promise we made this morning.”

“Why, you ask… I never promised anything.”

“You’re too much. We did promise.”

Skillfully parting the shirt and reaching his collarbone, Dylan’s hand had already undone every button and was lightly pinching Joeon’s right nipple. As Joeon, startled, twisted his body to escape, the arms wrapped around his waist tightened.

“No, don’t run away. I get it, I was wrong. I won’t play around anymore.”

Dylan’s body, pressed against his back, was hot. The hard bulge felt against his buttocks proved sufficiently just how aroused he was. With a mirror in front and Dylan standing firmly as a barrier behind him, there was nowhere to run.

“Just holding you like this is enough for me, Joeon. Don’t hate me.”

“It’s not that I hate… I don’t hate you. Not at all.”

Dylan rubbed his face against Joeon’s hair as if satisfied.

“You know? Your nipples are pretty, too. Every part of you is lovely.”

His fingernails gently scratched and stimulated Joeon’s nipples.

“Ugh.”

The reddish hickey marks adorning his bare skin under the parted shirt stood out. Deep teeth marks remained where Dylan’s fingernails were spiraling. It was the area Dylan had obsessively caressed last night.

“It stings when you do that.”

“Did you know you’ve been standing tall since earlier?”

“…Is that so?”

“That’s why your nipples were showing through the shirt, too. Did you dress like that on purpose to seduce me?”

“D-don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t know.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“…What does that mean?”

“It means you always lure people in without even defending yourself.”

Saying that and stopping the teasing with his fingernails, Dylan this time pressed his soft finger pads firmly against the round protruding nipple until he reached the core. A tingling sensation spread from his nipple throughout his entire body.

Joeon, startled, turned his head, feeling embarrassed by the hands so vividly reflected in the mirror. Dylan, bringing his nose to the same direction, kissed and sucked on Joeon’s neck this time. Unable to find a place to look, Joeon eventually squeezed his eyes shut. With his vision blocked, his body became doubly sensitive to stimulation.

“There’s a teeth mark here, too. It means this is a spot where you feel things.”

The fine hairs on his skin stood on end at the hot breath touching his neck. Even his lascivious whispering voice was stimulating. All the blood in his body rushed to his center.

“Ah, wait…”

Feeling as though his legs might give way at any moment, Joeon pressed his thighs together and struggled to steady himself. Just then, Dylan’s hand, which had been wrapped around his waist, slowly moved downward, unzipped Joeon’s trousers, and reached inside. A large palm settled over his half-erect member.

“Here, shall I touch it for you?”

Confirming his state of arousal, the bulge against his buttocks grew even harder. Because he was subtly moving his waist in circles, the contact points were rubbed together to the fullest.

“…You have to go to work.”

“There’s still an hour left.”

“…You didn’t get enough sleep yesterday, either. You must be tired…”

“That’s strange. Far from being tired, I feel more energized. Could it be because of the protein drink?”

Realizing what he meant, Joeon’s face turned bright red. As soon as he turned his head, Dylan kissed him. In that moment, his trousers, fully unzipped, fell down to his ankles with a flurry. His bare legs in black underwear were fully exposed in the air, and even the fact that the front was shamefully soaked was discovered. The hand that went inside pulled out Joeon’s white, straight member, placed it in his grip, and skillfully kneaded it.

His other hand was still pressing firmly on the reddened, swollen nipple as if he were trying to leave a fingerprint on it. Joeon grabbed Dylan’s arm and hung on, feeling his legs losing their strength again. At that moment, the hand hesitated. Unlike himself, who was practically naked, the stiff fabric of the suit felt strange under his palm.

Joeon glanced at the mirror. In it, there was a man like a model in a flawless suit, and himself—with his shirt hanging on his shoulders like rags, revealing his depraved, naked body marked with hickey marks, being masturbated while standing stiffly. Because Dylan, standing behind him, kept thrusting his waist forward as if they were having sex, from the perspective of the mirror, it looked as though the two were in the middle of a standing encounter.

Joeon’s flushed face was full of anticipation—hoping Dylan would touch him harder, hoping he would ravage his insides with rough thrusts and bring him to the peak. He didn’t even know when he had changed into such an obscene body. Perhaps it wasn’t a change, but Dylan discovering and bringing to light the body he already had.

His hand, reaching backward, fumbled over the zipper of Dylan’s trousers. After unbuckling and pulling down the zipper, he hesitantly pulled out Dylan’s penis. Joeon pushed down the underwear covering his thighs and brought Dylan’s wet tip between his own plump flesh, rubbing it. Dylan’s penis burrowed between his pressed-together thighs.