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A Dance With The Devil

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Sometimes attraction is instantaneous: when we glimpse someone whose physical attributes appeal to us, sparking an immediate response. Such an attraction may continue as we get to know the person, deepening to something beyond the purely physical, or it may fade into the background, or even dissolve entirely, once we dip beneath the surface to the personality within. Other times, attraction creeps up on us. We can meeting someone for the first time and be unaffected, but over time, feelings can change. In some cases we are aware of that change; we see it developing and either snuff it out or allow it to grow. But on occasion the change is so gradual that we remain unaware of it until a certain action or exchange sees the truth revealed, taking us by surprise.

Kim Ga-on had been pondering the issue of attraction more and more of late, seeking answers, wanting some kind of firm conclusion one way or the other. Because he was beginning to doubt he knew his own mind. When he looked at himself in the mirror these days, the image staring back at him seemed fractured, too many thoughts and feelings in opposition. And it all stemmed from one thing, or rather, from one man: Kang Yo-han.

When first they met, he had held his ground. Sure, Kang Yo-han was handsome and charming, but he’d only skimmed over those two points, his attention fixed on his goal: to find out the truth behind the Live Court Show and report back to his mentor. A spy. He’d never liked to think of himself as such, but it had become harder and harder to call himself anything else once he’d planted bugs in Kang Yo-han’s office, listening in on his conversations, trying to make out his motives, his plans.

The day he’d been caught, when he’d gone to retrieve the bug only to encounter Kang Yo-han, to face the accusation as the device was held out to him, that was the first moment he’d noticed a change. Until then he’d viewed Kang Yo-han objectively, any thought of trying to make sense of him only academic. But when confronted that night, he’d experienced another sensation. At the time, he’d chalk it up as guilt mixed with adrenalin, but looking back, he realised it had been the start of the feelings he now fought so hard to deny and repress.

He’d acted mostly on instinct when he’d realised the bomb was about to go off. Yet, the thought had crossed his mind as he reached for Kang Yo-han, pulling him away from the wall, that he was not yet ready to be without him, making the act of saving him selfish rather than selfless. And since then things had escalated: waking in a guest room at Kang Yo-han’s house, the unexpected, disquieting intimacy of Kang Yo-han changing his bandages, checking his wounds, and the times Kang Yo-han had removed the mask he wore in public, letting Kim Ga-on glimpse the truth of him. Or at least the truth he wanted to show, as Kim Ga-on was not so naive as to believe he was party to everything. Those apparent moments of earnestness and transparency could simply be another layer of the façade. If his actions so far demonstrated anything it was that Kang Yo-han would be perfectly capable of such manipulation. The safest thing would be to extricate himself entirely, to quit the show and walk away. But that wasn’t something Kim Ga-on would do. It wasn’t loyalty to his mentor, as his views now wavered on that front, right and wrong no longer as black and white as they had been when he started. Rather, it was an unwillingness to let go of Kang Yo-han. The man’s methods often appalled him, for all that a part of him understood the reasoning behind them. More than that, though, he was captivated him, both physically and mentally.

When Kang Yo-han entered a room, Kim Ga-on couldn’t help but stare, his gaze drawn to him to the exclusion of all else. The need to look at him, to drink him in, was too strong to deny, but so far his will power had held out against the constant urge to reach out and touch him. And for that he was thankful. The touches Kang Yo-han bestowed on him, seemingly so casually, were exquisite agony. Having his bandages changed was the worst—the brush of those lithe fingers against his bare skin made him shiver within, although he battled to show nothing on the outside—but even the resting of a hand on his shoulder was hard to endure without reacting. It felt possessive, especially when accompanied by a searing look and enigmatic smile, and in those moments, Kim Ga-on wanted to be possessed, to be claimed.

Initially, he’d told himself it was only that Kang Yo-han had such a magnetic presence, that it was a mental pull towards a strong personality. But then came the first dream, waking so hard and throbbing that he’d had to take care of himself at once, pressing his face into the pillow to stifle his moans, lest sound carried in that cavernous house. He’d never felt a same-sex attraction before, but when a second dream followed the first, and then a third, he could no longer claim it was a one-time aberration. This was desire, physical attraction, pure and simple. So, in recent days he’d given up on denial and concentrated on suppression. Because, if he knew one thing for certain it was that he could never let Kang Yo-han uncover these feelings of his. He told himself it was because he dreaded seeing disgust in Kang Yo-han’s eyes, but in truth, he feared to see calculation. To dance with the devil was a dangerous game.




Why did every conversation they had these days have to turn into an argument? Even as he queried it, Kim Ga-on knew he was to blame more often than not. He was the one who constantly questioned everything, demanding answers, often acting on a surge of pure emotion before he had time to think things through. Like the other day, when he’d decided without a scrap of evidence that Kang Yo-han had been responsible for the attack on Su-hyeon. Yet what else could he have thought when, not long before, Kang Yo-han had hinted that he might commit just such an act if Kim Ga-on didn’t toe the line? It hadn’t been his finest moment, entering the room and immediately throwing a punch. Yet, that initial rage had bubbled over into... something else, as Kang Yo-han thrust him down on the desk before slamming the scissors into the wood beside his head. The spike of adrenalin in that moment hadn’t only been the result of fear. The strength in Kang Yo-han’s action, the steely look in his eyes, coupled with Kim Ga-on’s vulnerable position caused a stab of desire far sharper than any blow from the implement now embedded in the polished wood. If Kang Yo-han hadn’t stepped back then, if, instead, he’d pressed closer, Kim Ga-on would have betrayed himself, he knew it. A whimper. A moan. A pleading look. He might even have reached for Kang Yo-han.

It was lucky things had played out as they had.

Now, here they were again, having another disagreement, with Kang Yo-han justifying his stance while Kim Ga-on fought against his former principles to accept it, to mould himself into the scenario. And still Kang Yo-han prodded and poked at him, always looking for a reaction, for a way to topple his values and his resolve. Kim Ga-on could see what he was trying to do, the subtle manipulation at play, and yet, in spite of that, there was ever a ring of truth to Kang Yo-han’s assertions. Like now, when he suggested that Kim Ga-on’s friends had convinced him to suppress his righteous rage, to accept as reasonable the unacceptable. If he let himself believe that, what did he have left to hang on to? Nothing... except for Kang Yo-han and the promise of retribution.

“I want to show you something.”

The sudden change in pace of their conversation took Kim Ga-on by surprise for a moment. It occurred to him that he could refuse. He could storm out, telling Kang Yo-han where to stick it. But he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.




A scream tore out of Kim Ga-on. Then another. And another. The sweep of the spotlight over the asphalt, glimpsed through a stream of tears, made the world seem to spin, and he crouched down, trying to ground himself physically even as he mentally unravelled. All this time, he’d told himself that justice had been served, but it had been a lie. The system had failed him, failed his parents, and failed the other victims. Kang Yo-han was right. He had been right all along.

He didn’t know how much time passed as he wept and raged. But eventually a hand brushed his shoulder, guiding him up. No words were spoken as they made their way back to the car. Nor on the long drive home. What was there for either of them to say? Unless Kang Yo-han had chosen to say ‘I told you so’. But he didn’t.

The pain and anger had ebbed by the time they finally pulled into the driveway, replaced by numbness. It would return, that pain, and it would need to be addressed, as would the situation itself. He had no intention of letting them get away with this—whoever was responsible. Not tonight though. Tonight, all he wanted was to somehow find oblivion.

When they reached the house, he walked up the stairs, towards his bedroom, on autopilot. Yet he was suddenly very much aware of Kang Yo-han’s presence just behind him, strangely both calming and unnerving at the same time. How easy it would be to invite him in, to ask him to stay. Something physical was what he needed right now. To feel, rather than to feel. But Kim Ga-on’s mental faculties had recovered enough for him to realise what an error of judgment that would be.

He opened the door and stepped inside. He started to turn, preparing to wish Kang Yo-han goodnight, expecting to receive a final platitude, something along the lines of ‘feeling better in the morning’, for why else would Kang Yo-han have followed him up the stairs rather than heading straight to his study? Instead, Kang Yo-han pressed forward, forcing Kim Ga-on to stumble backwards to make way for him. Once they were both inside the room, Kang Yo-han turned to shut and lock the door.

Kim Ga-on frowned, his eyes on Kang Yo-han’s fingers as they turned the key. “What’s wrong?”

When Kang Yo-han turned to face him, his expression was unreadable. “I realise that in showing you the truth today I have taken something from you. It seems only fair I offer something you want in return. Balancing the books as it were.”

“I don’t—”

Kang Yo-han’s kiss cut him off—a soft press of lips at first, but soon deepening. Kim Ga-on only realised Kang Yo-han had been guiding him across the room throughout the kiss when the back of his legs struck the edge of the bed and he toppled onto it.

“What are you doing?” He tried for indignation. He knew he should feel indignant at Kang Yo-han’s presumption. But the words came out on a pant, breathless and needy, because, while the rational part of his mind was warning him how much of a mistake this would be, his cock was already stiffening, his body crying out for Kang Yo-han’s touch, desperate to feel those lips on his again.

“Only what you’ve wanted for a while now.” Kang Yo-han shrugged out of his suit jacket, dropping the expensive garment to the floor, and then loosened his tie. “You gaze at me constantly. I’m not blind, and you have never been very good at hiding your emotions.” He pulled the tie over his head and let it fall. Then, meeting and holding Kim Ga-on’s gaze, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt, but his movements were slower now. “Of course, if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

The slow flick of Kang Yo-han’s fingers as he popped each button free was mesmerising, as were the glimpses of bare skin as the fabric flapped open. But the pause between buttons was lengthening. It might have been interpreted as tentative, awaiting Kim Ga-on’s sanction. Except Kim Ga-on had never known Kang Yo-han to approach anything tentatively. No, this was a tease, a temptation, designed to elicit the required response.  At a different time, he liked to think he might have managed a denial and rebuttal, that it was only his current, emotionally raw state that made resistance impossible. But maybe he was fooling himself. Perhaps he would have been unable to reject what was being offered no matter when that offer occurred. Because he wanted Kang Yo-han. He wanted him so badly that the thought of breaking things off now felt akin to death. Right here, in this moment, he not only wanted this, but he needed it. To hell with the consequences. Those could be worries for another day.

“No. Don’t go. Stay.”

Kang Yo-han’s smile was as captivating as ever—enigmatic, yet with a underlying hint of smugness, as if he’d never doubted the choice Kim Ga-on would make. With a final flick of his thumb, the last button came free of its buttonhole, his shirt now gaping open the full length of his chest, down to where the final few centimetres remained tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He took a step closer, moving within reach, and reaching is just what Kim Ga-on did.

He stretched forward to slip his hands through the open shirt and touch the exposed skin. It radiated warmth, and he surveyed Kang Yo-han’s chest with his fingers, exploring each muscle the way he’d wanted to ever since he’d first seen that bare torso. He glanced up to check if what he was doing was acceptable, but Kang Yo-han still wore the same smile, his face betraying no other emotion.

The flapping cloth was beginning to annoy him, so, in the absence of any rebuke, Kim Ga-on tugged the shirt tails free from Kang Yo-han’s trousers and stretched upwards to push the garment over and off Kang Yo-han’s shoulders, letting it float to the floor. Then he wrapped his arms around Kang Yo-han and urged him forward, lips and tongue now taking over the careful mapping of Kang Yo-han’s chest. With his hands on Kang Yo-han’s back, Kim Ga-on could feel the contours of the scar from the fire. There was something fascinating about the texture of the scar tissue, but at the same time, it felt too intimate—more so than the way he was currently lapping his tongue over Kang Yo-han’s nipple—so he altered his position until his grip was on unblemished skin.

Kang Yo-han shivered when Kim Ga-on sucked at the bud, and suddenly the bare torso was not enough. Kim Ga-on wanted—needed—more, and he dropped his hands to Kang Yo-han’s belt, fumbling with the buckle. As his palm brushed Kang Yo-han’s crotch, he could feel the hardening shaft through the fabric, and he doubled his efforts to get to it. At last the belt slipped undone and he hurriedly tugged at the zipper before reaching beneath the waistband to pull down both trousers and underwear together, letting Kang Yo-han’s half-hard cock spring free. He gasped at the sight and momentarily pulled back, and in this pause, Kang Yo-han took a moment to free himself completely from his remaining garments, kicking them to the side.

There was a sudden, pregnant silence. Kang Yo-han stood impassively before him, seemingly unfazed by his naked state. Meanwhile, Kim Ga-on stared at Kang Yo-han, drinking him in, his gaze drawn ever back to his cock. He was suddenly nervous. He was a novice at this. What if he did something wrong?

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Kang Yo-han’s voice sounded loud as it rang out in the previously quiet room. “We can end this here.”

“No. I want to. I—” Oh, to hell with it! Brushing all worries aside, Kim Ga-on decided to follow his instincts, and he slid off the bed onto his knees and pressed a kiss to the shaft of Kang Yo-han’s cock, which jerked in response. The skin was smooth and there was an earthy, but not unpleasant, scent. He repeated the action again in a different spot, and then ran his tongue tentatively along the full length of the shaft. Kang Yo-han sucked in a breath, and this emboldened Kim Ga-on. He parted his lips and let Kang Yo-han’s cock slide between them, taking him slowly into his mouth, inch by inch. Kang Yo-han twined his fingers through Kim Ga-on’s hair, the grip firm but not forceful, and Kim Ga-on experimented by lapping his tongue against the underside of the shaft. The cock hardened, and he gained confidence, now letting his lips slide up and down the length as he sucked. In the back of his mind, he’d worried this would be unpleasant, but instead it felt good. Taking Kang Yo-han into his mouth like this was a major turn-on, and his own cock was aching within the confines of his suddenly-far-too-tight trousers. He started to suck harder and move faster, wrapping a hand around the base of the shaft and squeezing in the way he liked when getting himself off. But seconds later, Kang Yo-han eased away.

For a moment, Kim Ga-on panicked, wondering what he’d done wrong. But Kang Yo-han met his gaze, wearing a wolfish expression that looked anything but unhappy. He leant down and gripped Kim Ga-on’s arms, drawing him back to his feet.

“You didn’t want it to end so soon, did you? There are still several hours until dawn, and I had something else in mind.”

The thought of what that ‘something else’ might be sent a thrill of fear through Kim Ga-on, but Kang Yo-han seemed to realise this, as he moved his hands to rest lightly on Kim Ga-on’s shoulders, meeting his eye as he said, “Nothing you don’t want to do. Okay?”

Kim Ga-on nodded, not trusting his voice.

“This is all for you,” Kang Yo-han added.

What did he mean by that? Was he not enjoying this? Did he not want it too?

But the sudden flurry of thought and worry subsided when Kang Yo-han leaned in to kiss him, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt at the same time. The kiss became firmer, and when Kang Yo-han probed at his lips with his tongue, Kim Ga-on opened to grant him access, groaning as Kang Yo-han plundered his mouth. He shed his shirt a moment later without breaking the kiss. Kang Yo-han must have moved on to his trousers straightaway, but the first Kim Ga-on was aware of it was when they were pulled down and he felt the sudden draft of cool air and the relief as his cock sprang free.

Kicking the last of their clothing aside, Kang Yo-han guided Kim Ga-on onto the bed, onto his back, and knelt over him. He moved slowly down Kim Ga-on’s torso, kissing, licking and nipping, the tiny bites an erotic blend of pleasure and pain. He concentrated for so long on one spot just below the right nipple that Kim Ga-on was certainly it would leave a bruise. Kang Yo-han was marking him, but he’d done so carefully, in a place where it wouldn’t show. Only Kim Ga-on would know, and that thought sent another burst of pure desire through him, making his cock throb.

Kang Yo-han turned his attention there now. He knelt back and took Kim Ga-on in hand, working him slowly and firmly. Watching that hand slide up and down his cock was almost as fulfilling as the physical sensation. But the pre-come wasn’t quite enough lubrication, and Kang Yo-han seemed to realise this.


“Top drawer.” He wondered vaguely if he should feel embarrassed to reveal he had brought such an item into a room he inhabited solely as a temporary guest. Then again, Kang Yo-han, in asking for it, seemed to have expected it would be there.

Kang Yo-han retrieved the tube and squeezed a generous amount into his palm. Then he spread the gel between his hands before returning to his former task. The slide was smoother now, and thus all the more pleasurable, but still Kang Yo-han kept a slow pace.

“Is this how you imagined it when you lay here and jerked yourself off while thinking about me?” Kang Yo-han’s voice was seductively low, little more than a whisper.

“I thought...” Kim Ga-on trailed off as Kang Yo-han’s words sank in. He had tried to be quiet. He’d thought he’d succeeded. Yet still Kang Yo-han had known. Heat flushed his cheeks.

“You thought...?” Kang Yo-han prompted, and Kim Ga-on refocused—or at least refocused as much as he could with a hand still expertly working his cock.

“I thought you’d be rougher. More demanding and less considerate.” Kim Ga-on answered honestly. Given their current level of intimacy, it seemed incongruous to lie.

For a second, Kang Yo-han’s rhythm faltered, but he quickly corrected it. “Do you want me to be rougher?”

Kim Ga-on hesitated. His first urge had been to deny such a desire, but then several scenarios had flashed through his mind, bringing with them a heightening of his arousal. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“Perhaps a little then, when the time is right.”

Kang Yo-han, without ceasing his leisurely pumping of Kim Ga-on’s cock, leaned in and kissed him again. Kim Ga-on responded eagerly, lapping his tongue against Kang Yo-han’s, savouring the taste of him. Kang Yo-han shifted position slightly, and then Kim Ga-on felt the slide of a finger, slick with lube, against his arse. He froze, breaking the kiss. And Kang Yo-han, too, ceased all movement.

“You haven’t done this before.”

Kim Ga-on met Kang Yo-han’s steady gaze. He wasn’t sure if that had been a statement or a question, but he answered it anyway with a quick shake of the head.

“You simply need to relax. It may feel a little strange at first, but I promise by the end you’ll feel really, really good. Do you trust me?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question, and one Kim Ga-on had been asking himself again and again since this all began. Did he trust Kang Yo-han? Could he trust him? The answer was a slippery one, changing from one day to the next. He still didn’t think he could completely trust him when it came to the trials and how far Kang Yo-han was willing to go to achieve his goals. But in this..?

He nodded, and Kang Yo-han smiled, the gesture less smug this time.

“Then just relax.”

Kang Yo-han resumed first the kiss, then the hand-job, and finally the gentle probing at Kim Ga-on’s entrance. He took his time, and when he finally inserted the fingertip, it felt a little odd, but not painful or unpleasant. Time seemed to stand still for a while, with Kang Yo-han holding him in a state of constantly arousal without letting him tip over the edge—a sensation at once both captivating and agonising.

The addition of a second finger had only vaguely registered, but the third did cause a slight burn, and Kim Ga-on tensed.

“Shh. Relax.”

Kang Yo-han pressed all three fingers slowly deeper, but this time he twisted the digits slightly, and where the fingertips stuck inside Kim Ga-on sent a jolt of unadulterated pleasure through him. He bucked and pressed down on the fingers, seeking to repeat the sensation, no longer noticing the stretch.

Kang Yo-han bent closer and whispered, “I’d like to fuck you now. May I?”

Any earlier reservation on this issue had fled, and Kim Ga-on nodded.

The fingers disappeared, and Kang Yo-han reached to the bedside table for more lube. Watching the preparations sent another nervous flutter through Kim Ga-on, but he wasn’t going to change his mind now. Excitement outweighed apprehension. He wanted to know what it was like to have Kang Yo-han inside him, and he wanted to feel again that wonderful sensation he’d experienced a moment ago.

Kang Yo-han moved back over him, and Kim Ga-on felt Kang Yo-han’s cockhead brush his entrance.


The kiss was gentle at first before deepening, becoming an urgent clash of tongues and teeth. There was the start of a slight burning sensation as Kang Yo-han pressed into him, but Kim Ga-on forgot that a second later when Kang Yo-han broke the kiss and instead fastened onto the curve of his neck, biting hard. The sting of teeth overrode the moment of penetration, but Kang Yo-han still paused, releasing his hold on Kim Ga-on’s neck but waiting through a couple of heartbeats before moving forward, slowly but steadily filling Kim Ga-on.

There was a definite sense of being stretched, but it wasn’t painful.

“Good boy. You’re doing well.”

In another situation, Kim Ga-on might have been offended at the words, but now, in this moment, they made his cock jerk and he gave a loud groan.

Once fully sheathed, Kang Yo-han leisurely pulled most of the way out before sliding just as gently back in. He repeated this motion a few times until Kim Ga-on was accustomed to the feeling and any lingering slight burn evaporated.

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

For what? What more could there be after this?

Kim Ga-on didn’t have to wonder for long, because Kang Yo-han immediately hooked his arm under Kim Ga-on’s left leg, then thrust deeper than before, and a split second later Kim Ga-on was seeing stars. It was the same blissful sensation as before, but amplified tenfold.

Kang Yo-han increased his pace, taking Kim Ga-on harder and faster. Sometimes he hit that magic spot and sometimes he didn’t. At first Kim Ga-on assumed this was chance, but then he noticed the way Kang Yo-han’s expression turned smug each time he groaned at the pleasure of it and decided that somehow he was aware of when it would happen and was purposefully rationing the sensation.

Kim Ga-on’s cock was hard and aching, and he reached for it, desperate for release. But Kang Yo-han brushed his hand away.

“None of that. I want to see you come untouched.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, I think you can.”

Then Kang Yo-han shifted position, adjusting his balance to leave his left hand free. This hand he wrapped around Kim Ga-on’s neck, squeezing gently.  There was a desperate groan, so erotic and full of need that it took Kim Ga-on a moment to realise the sound had come from him. He thought of the times Kang Yo-han had pinned him to walls and bookshelves like this, and the spark of desire it had always provoked.

Kang Yo-han stepped up the pace once more, ploughing Kim Ga-on’s arse while also increasing the tightness of his grip on Kim Ga-on’s neck.

This was similar now to what Kim Ga-on had envisaged when he’d jerked himself off to thoughts of Kang Yo-han: domination, overpowering, taking, himself an empty vessel for Kang Yo-han to use as he wished.

The grip on his neck tightened to the point where his breath was almost cut off, and in that moment Kim Ga-on came, his release splattering his chest, seeming to last forever. Only when he was finally spent did Kang Yo-han loosen his hold on him, though he continued to maintain the rhythm of his thrusts until, with one last push forward, he came, his cock pulsing deep within Kim Ga-on.

Kim Ga-on’s body was so limp, all he could do was lie there. It was as if he’d been completely emptied and yet completely filled at the same time. He was so relaxed he could barely feel his limbs, and when Kang Yo-han pulled out of him and collapsed sideways to lie beside him, it took all the energy Kim Ga-on had left just to turn his head to look at him.

Kang Yo-han was panting slightly, his hair plastered to his forehead and sweat glistening on his chest. Had he been able to move, Kim Ga-on might have been tempted to lap it up. Instead he pictured more nights like this. He imagined waking beside Kang Yo-han, going down to breakfast together....

But no.

That wasn’t going to happen, was it? Kang Yo-han had said himself tonight was only about making amends. Kim Ga-on hadn’t wanted to admit it until now, but this had been a pity fuck. Kang Yo-han had felt sorry for him, nothing more. Except, Kang Yo-han didn’t feel sorry for people, not as far as Kim Ga-on had ever seen.

“You’re tense. What’s wrong?”

He realised Kang Yo-han was looking at him, a faint crease forming between his brows.

“This was a one-time thing, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it already. I’d thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I’m not. I was. I... I just assumed that you wouldn’t... that it was out of pity and—”

“Why would you think that?” Kang Yo-han reached out and swiped a finger through the come smearing Kim Ga-on’s chest. “Do you really think I would have gone this far solely out of pity? I’m not that selfless. I thought you’d have realised that by now.” He raised the finger to his lips and made an exaggerated show of licking it.

He wouldn’t have believed it possible after the epic ejaculation only moments ago, but the sight stirred Kim Ga-on’s cock once more.

Kang Yo-han’s gaze flicked to Kim Ga-on’s groin and he cocked an eyebrow. “Although, when I started this, I didn’t realise you’d be this insatiable.”

“Too old to keep up?”

Kang Yo-han gave a wicked smile that was full of promise. “That sounds like a challenge, and I always rise to a challenge.”