Chapter Text
The next moments were a blur. He felt the pressure on his wrists being released, and then he felt his body moving.
“Nngh-“ he tried to protest- he still had so many people who needed saving. But all he managed to do was choke and cough as water spilled out of his lungs. Every breath burned, and he couldn’t make sense of anything he was seeing or hearing.
He was shivering, his body trembling uncontrollably against the hard body that was carrying him. His skin stung where it caught on the fabric of the arms holding him, and he hissed a pained breath through his teeth. He registered himself being put down on something padded.
Now that he was still, his vision started to clear, though it was still blurred and black around the edges. He felt his limbs being tugged around and lifted, and he was wiped down with a rough cloth that irritated his wounds. He weakly reached out to grab at the hand holding it, but his fingers just laid limp on their sleeve.
“Stop,” his voice cracked, just a whisper. He coughed again, weakly. “I have to… have to go back.”
His hand was grabbed and held in a leather grip. “Be still,” the hard, mechanical voice of a monster echoed through the room. “It’s over.”
Gi-hun shook his head, denying what he knew to be true. He failed.
Images of the people he had doomed flashed through his mind. Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and so many other players he never even learned the names of. A miserable numbness filled him, and he let his eyes slide shut, a tear dripping down the corner of his eye.
In-ho watched the news sink in to Gi-hun, taking in every second of his misery with rapt interest. Gi-hun’s posture slumped, and he sank deeper into the hospital bed he was laid on as the fight slowly drained from his body. His brow was tense with the devastation, a little crease across the bridge of his nose forming as the sorrow ran through him. His dark eyes slid shut, and In-ho leaned forward to track the tear rolling down his cheek.
Gi-hun’s body shook from the pain, physical and mental. When In-ho lifted his legs up again, Gi-hun didn’t move this time, allowing himself to be maneuvered around like a doll. Fitting, In-ho supposed, since he was dressing him like one.
Or, undressing, at the moment. His briefs were soaked from the overflowing water of the bucket he was drowned in earlier. In-ho hooked a finger in the waistband and pulled them down with ease. Gi-hun whined a little, so quietly that the man himself may not have heard it.
One positive effect of the water was that it had washed away most of the blood and sweat of the games, but In-ho would still have to wash him properly. Later, he decided. A warm bath might stop those endearing little shivers that wracked his body.
For now, a light sponge bath of sorts would suffice. He took a damp rag and began scrubbing lightly over Gi-hun’s limbs, followed with a bit of antiseptic dabbed onto the few open wounds Gi-hun had here and there. The riding crop wasn’t designed to actually maim him, of course, but as In-ho ran out of new places to strike him, the overlapping wounds began to lightly break skin.
It wasn’t severe. Nowhere near as pressing as the water that almost certainly entered his lungs. But In-ho bandaged them with care and antibacterial ointment anyway. It was soothing, in a way, to treat the wounds he had inflicted.
The worst of them were on Gi-hun’s back and chest. In-ho rubbed ointment into one of the lashes across his breast that had landed right over a nipple, and Gi-hun gave a weak little whimper in his half-conscious state, reacting to the touch.
In-ho’s eyes locked on his face from behind the mask. The tension in his brow was still there, and he was still shuddering from the cold, but a light flush graced his cheeks. In-ho pinched the nipple between his fingers, and he felt his heart skip a beat in anticipation as Gi-hun gasped.
He had doled out so much pain to Gi-hun. Did he not owe him some pleasure?
In time, perhaps. But he would force himself to be patient. He had all the time in the world to explore Gi-hun fully.
He laid a bandage over the wound and gently flipped Gi-hun over to work on the wounds on his back. He laid him down on his chest, tilting his head to the side so he could breathe as In-ho worked.
His back was far worse off. Gi-hun had taken 43 lashes by the end of it, and In-ho had delivered half of them to that stretch of previously unmarred skin.
The marks didn’t make him any less gorgeous, though. In-ho thought to himself as he got to work cleaning the wounds. They added to his beauty, if anything. Like gold poured in the cracks of a broken vase. In-ho would treat them as best he could, but he wouldn’t mind if they left scars behind. They would be like permanent reminders of In-ho’s ownership over him.
When In-ho was done, Gi-hun was still faintly shivering. He took Gi-hun’s finger, clamping a monitor over it that would display his heart rate and blood oxygen. Currently, it sat at 95 beats per minute, and an oxygen count of 87. A slightly elevated heart rate, likely due to stress, and a low blood oxygen saturation. In-ho pursed his lips. The room was stocked with an oxygenator, luckily. He should be glad Il-nam struggled for breath near the end.
He turned on the machine and laced the tubing around Gi-hun’s ears. The room filled with the faint noise of the oxygen machine whirring and pumping air into Gi-hun’s strained lungs. As In-ho pulled away, he let his hand rest on Gi-hun’s forehead, feeling the faint heat of a fever on Gi-hun’s skin. The man was still shivering.
In-ho decided that wouldn’t do.
He shrugged off his coat and slid off his shirt. Skin to skin contact would be most efficient, of course. For a moment, he considered fetching some restraints, but decided against it. Gi-hun was hardly fit to put up a fight, even before all of this extra added strain on his body. He was practically emaciated, arms so thin In-ho could wrap his hand around Gi-hun’s bicep and come close to having his fingertips touch.
Besides, if Gi-hun did put up a fight, it would be a good test of his strength after all he’d been through. And it would be more fun to subdue him by force at least once.
As a final piece, he sat the mask on the bedside table where Gi-hun would see it when he woke.
In-ho stripped down to his boxer-briefs and slipped into the cot, turning Gi-hun on his side so he could cradle him in his arms. Gi-hun whimpered a bit as In-ho’s arms brushed against his lashes, pulling his wounded back against his body, but he settled quickly, too faint to resist.
In-ho rested the side of his face on Gi-hun’s head. He could feel the man’s pulse racing against his chin. A better monitor than the one on Gi-hun’s finger, in In-ho’s opinion.
He smelled of sweat and antiseptic, but In-ho didn’t mind.
He closed his eyes and felt Gi-hun’s trembles finally cease as his body relaxed against In-ho’s. Even under just a thin sheet and a quilt, their shared body heat was more than enough to keep warm.
Gi-hun felt heavy when he awoke. He blinked his eyes wearily. He had a pounding headache, a building pressure in his temple.
When he was finally awake enough to see, he looked at the bedside table in front of him and realized he must still be in a nightmare. Sitting there, less than two feet from him, was the front man’s mask. He froze, staring at it with wide, terrified eyes.
He realized he wasn’t alone. He had the weight of someone’s arm draped across his chest, and he heard someone breathing in his ear.
He stayed very still, for a moment. His first instinct was to get up and tear himself out of their arms, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength for that. But maybe if he could slip out slowly, without waking them up, then…
There was a tickle in his throat. Water that he’d doubtlessly inhaled coming up to haunt him. He tried to fight the urge to cough, but his lungs burned. He gave into the urge to clear his throat, as quietly as possible, but once he started, it was like a rolling boulder. He couldn’t stop; the years of smoking combined with these past few days of abuse left him in a hacking fit, and he choked on nothing. He was heaving, and the arms around him pulled him upright and aimed him towards the floor.
Bile and water splattered on the tile, and his vision was clouded with tears. A heavy hand rested between his shoulder blades, rubbing circles over his back as if to soothe him.
When he was finally able to catch his breath, he felt someone’s chin come to rest on his shoulder. He tensed up as their arms wrapped around his torso, and their chest pressed against his back. He was trapped.
He didn’t know whose arms he was in, but he knew if they were here, they couldn’t be anyone good. “Let go of me,” he rasped, breath rattling through his abused lungs.
“It’s alright,” he heard a familiar voice in his ear. His eyes widened. “I’m not going to hurt you now.”
“Yo-“ Gi-hun wheezed, interrupted by another coughing fit. “Young-il?”
He turned to face him, immediately forgetting to be wary. This time, the arms let him go, and Gi-hun spun around to face Young-il head on.He was so glad Young-il was okay, it overwrote all his fears at the moment.
“You’re alive…” Gi-hun breathed out. His eyes stung with tears of joy, and his body gave out as the fight left him. He fell forward, resting his head on Young-il’s shoulder and bringing his arms to loosely hang around him. “I was so worried… They didn't give me a chance to save you, so I thought you would be…” Gi-hun trailed off. He shivered as the adrenaline cooled down, leaving him to the chilly air of the room, and remembered himself. He was naked. Naked and clinging to a married man, crying on his shoulder. He went to push himself off, but just as he was about to, Young-il’s arms came up to cage him in place.
“I'm okay,” Young-il said, his voice steady and comforting. Gi-hun could almost hear a smile in his tone. A bit odd- there was so little to smile about in a place like this. Maybe he was glad to see him awake? Maybe Young-il was just swept up in the moment of joy brought by Gi-hun recovering from the torture he had gone through. Gi-hun didn't know if he was made to watch, but the state of his body probably spoke for itself.
“Everything will be alright now.” Young-il told him as he rubbed soothing circles on Gi-hun’s back. Every time Young-il’s fingers ghosted near one of Gi-hun’s lash marks, Gi-hun couldn't help but flinch a little. Still, he appreciated the gentle touch.
“Why didn't they let me save you?” Gi-hun wondered aloud. “I would have. And then you could be out there, with your wife, instead of…. Trapped here with me.”
Gi-hun thought about how lonely that would be. To wake up shivering and cold, in a facility where he would never see anyone’s face. He didn’t know how long he would be here, or why they didn’t just let him drown in the first place… But some part of him was glad he wasn’t alone.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was overcome with guilt and shame. How could he be glad that Young-il was trapped with him? That was a terrible thing to think.
“I’m not trapped,” Young-il told him, his soothing voice unwavering and confident. “I chose to be here.”
Gi-hun froze. That was…
“Stupid!” Gi-hun pushed away from Young-il and looked him in the eyes. “Why would you do something like that! You should have gotten out when you had the chance!”
“I wouldn’t leave you alone, Gi-hun,” Young-il said, like it was that simple.
“But… You put yourself at their mercy for what?” Gi-hun wanted to cry again. “For me? You should have saved yourself… Take what they would give you and make it out with your life.”
“You didn’t.” In two words, Young-il disarmed his whole argument. “You came back, even after you had the chance to leave. Twice. So why would you be mad if I had done the same?”
Something felt off. It was nagging at Gi-hun. His hackles were still raised from the fight, but something about the way Young-il said it was wrong.
“Twice?” Gi-hun repeated slowly. His ears were ringing. He moved to swing one of his legs off the side of the bed and get up, but Young-il’s grip on his shoulders became bruising, pinning him in place.
“Twice,” Young-il repeated, looking at him so intensely Gi-hun felt like he was staring into the eyes of a predator ready to devour him whole.
Why was he so nervous? Young-il was his ally, wasn’t he?
“How would you know I came back twice?” Gi-hun wondered aloud. Young-il didn’t immediately answer. He just stared at Gi-hun in silence, waiting for something.
Waiting for him to put the pieces together. “Young-il?”
“That’s not my name,” he said. Gi-hun weakly tried to pull off those hands gripping him tight, but he couldn’t. His arms just hung loosely from where his hands shook around Young-il’s wrists. “My name is Hwang In-ho.”
Gi-hun’s heart dropped. He had to run, but there was nowhere for him to go. This island was a hell of colorful mazes, and that was assuming he was capable of escaping In-ho’s grasp at all in his condition.
He wasn’t. But he had to try. He quickly brought up his leg and planted his foot against In-ho’s chest, kicking off to push him away. In-ho’s grip, by some miracle, did slip, and Gi-hun scrambled to get off the bed, nearly tripping on the sheets that pooled on the floor. He ran towards the door, but In-ho was quicker, pinning him against it with his weight. Gi-hun cringed as he remembered just how naked he was, courtesy of the feeling of the door’s cold vinyl pressing against his cock. The blanket hid his shame before, but that was now soaking uselessly in the puddle of his bile by the bed.
In-ho wasn’t completely naked, thankfully. But Gi-hun froze as he felt In-ho’s clothed crotch against his rear. To his horror, he realized the man was hard. Feeling him pressed between his cheeks was the worst violation Gi-hun had experienced since coming to this place, and that was saying a lot.
“Will you behave now?” In-ho whispered into his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Gi-hun’s spine.
“Get off me,” Gi-hun hissed. He tried to squirm out of In-ho’s grip, but his movements were weak and sluggish. He couldn’t accomplish anything other than bucking against the intrusion at his rear, which only led In-ho to press it even tighter against him. Gi-hun whimpered as In-ho’s firm hands landed on one of his bandaged wounds on his shoulder and squeezed, irritating the already inflamed skin underneath.
“Do you want me to put you in your place?” In-ho’s voice was lower now, rough with what Gi-hun didn’t want to acknowledge was desire. “Is that what this is?”
In-ho pressed himself harder against his ass, shoving Gi-hun’s soft cock painfully against the cold surface of the door. Gi-hun gasped.
“Stop,” Gi-hun said weakly. “Please.”
In-ho held him there for a moment. Gi-hun suppressed the urge to shiver, worried that any movement would provoke In-ho to make good on his threat.
Finally, he pulled away, and Gi-hun fell to his knees without In-ho supporting his weight. He leaned against the door and panted for air, staring at the tiles on the floor. He didn’t have it in him to get up yet, nor did he have it in him to look at In-ho after the humiliation of his assault.
He could feel In-ho’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Gi-hun realized that he must look pathetic- a naked, trembling mess on the floor.
He clung to his pride as he stood up on shaking legs, facing away from In-ho to preserve what little modesty he could. Gi-hun braced himself against the wall for support.
Still keeping his front aimed away from In-ho, he turned to glare at him over his shoulder, finally meeting his eyes. Except, In-ho’s gaze came to meet his slowly, raking up his body, taking in every inch of his exposed skin. Gi-hun didn't back down.
“Where are my clothes,” Gi-hun demanded. There were many things he could have said, but he would rather not have this conversation naked if he could help it.
In-ho smiled at him, not a hint of warmth in his eyes as he did. “They were taken and put away with the rest of the players’ clothes, of course. Unless you were referring to your tracksuit?”
“So go get them,” Gi-hun hissed. “I don’t care which.” He knew it was probably pointless to even ask; if they wanted him clothed, he would be. But he hated the feeling of In-ho’s eyes crawling over his skin so badly, he had to try.
“Perhaps after a bath,” In-ho said noncommittally. “It’d be a waste to get fresh clothes dirty, wouldn’t it?”
Gi-hun didn’t give a damn about a bath. He was surprised he hadn’t been given one in his sleep; In-ho didn’t have any qualms invading his privacy so far. But if he was directed to a private room where he could get away from those prying eyes for a minute, then he would take it.
“Point me to the bathroom, then,” Gi-hun tried to sound calm and confident, even as he was shivering.
In-ho took a step towards him, and Gi-hun took a step back, flinching when his back hit the corner. There was nowhere to go.
“I’ll help you,” In-ho said calmly. “You look about ready to pass out. After all this, it would be a shame if you drowned in the tub, don’t you think?”
He rested his hands on Gi-hun’s shoulders and led Gi-hun back to the bed. “I have to go get your change of clothes and tell the guards to change your bed. Lay down and relax while I’m gone. I don’t want you to faint and hit your head.”
Gi-hun scowled at him. He hesitated to snap back, though, because he didn’t want to make In-ho stay longer. The sooner he was gone, the better. He refused to lay down, though, instead sitting up in the bed and pulling a pillow into his lap to hide himself.
In-ho went around the bed and picked up the forgotten mask from the bedside table. It was different than the ones all the other guards wore. Gi-hun put the pieces together quickly.
“So you’re not even just a grunt,” Gi-hun couldn’t help himself. “You’re the one in charge, aren’t you. The Frontman. The reason all of this is happening in the first place.”
In-ho just smiled back at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I am the one in charge, yes. But I’m not the reason this is happening. The games are just a symptom of the way the world is.”
Gi-hun scoffed. “So that’s your justification? People are cruel, so you have to enable and encourage them to be even worse?” Having something to cover himself gave him a bit more bravado.
In-ho just kept smiling, unaffected. “We can continue this discussion when I get back. Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled the mask up and turned to the door. It must have scanned it somehow, because it immediately opened, sliding up and out of the way. It closed behind him when he walked through, sliding down like a guillotine cutting off Gi-hun from any hope to escape.
He had to get that mask. That must be the key. And if In-ho was in charge of everything here, that had to give him high enough clearance to get anywhere in the compound. If he had that, then freedom would be in his grasp.
Gi-hun had no hope of beating him in a fair fight, though. He looked around the room, hoping to find something he could maybe hit In-ho with when he came back into the room.
The bedside table would have to do. The room was practically empty aside from that, and another door on the side of the wall. Gi-hun checked it, of course, but it was just a simple bathroom. No mirror he could break to get a shard of glass, either.
He couldn’t waste time he didn’t have searching it further. He moved quickly, picking up the table and rushing to the side of the door waiting for it to open. He didn’t know how long In-ho would be gone, but he knew time wasn’t on his side.
He heard the door click, and he lifted it up above his head, ready to strike whatever came through.
He brought it crashing towards In-ho’s head, hoping to knock him out. This was his only chance.
Before he could even blink, it was knocked out of his hands. He heard the wood crashing against the floor, and then In-ho was on him, pinning him to the wall.
“Cute attempt,” In-ho mocked him, his voice filtered through the mask’s vocoder. “But, did you really think this room didn’t have cameras?”
“Fuck you!” Gi-hun snapped. “Get off me!”
He tried to shove In-ho away, but with his hands pinned above his head, the most he could do was weakly push his chest against In-ho’s shoulders. In-ho sighed, as if he was disappointed, shaking his head.
“If this is how you’re going to act,” Gi-hun felt a sharp sting in his neck, and he gasped. In-ho kept talking as Gi-hun felt his limbs start to weaken. “I suppose I’ll have to sedate you.”
Gi-hun had already woken up physically exhausted and weak. The drug ran through his veins quickly, and even as he struggled against it, in less than a minute his legs were buckling. His head lolled into In-ho’s shoulder. He could move, but only barely. He twitched his fingers, but he couldn’t even curl them up to make a fist.
“This is a mild drug,” In-ho swooped him up into his arms. Idly, Gi-hun wondered where the clothes he was supposed to get went. He really wished he had them right now. “It won’t make you lose consciousness, but it will make you more pliant. That way, we can have our talk.”
Or In-ho could talk at him, more likely. Gi-hun’s tongue felt like a big wad of cotton in his mouth.
In-ho carried him into the bathroom. He set Gi-hun down in the tub, and pulled off his mask, setting it aside. Gi-hun could only watch as In-ho started unravelling his bandages, leaving his skin completely bare.
After, In-ho moved around the room, turning on the water and setting a towel by the side of the tub for himself to kneel on as he cleaned Gi-hun up.
Gi-hun let his head loll to the side, his eyes falling away from In-ho. Tears welled up in his eyes; crying was all he was capable of at the moment. There was so much frustrated energy trapped in his body, but every movement was like swimming through honey. He was helpless to resist as In-ho brought up his limb to wash under his arms.
“You’re probably wondering what happens next,” In-ho began to speak to his captive audience. “Obviously, you won’t be leaving this place. That much goes without saying.”
Gi-hun glared at him. Without the mask, he sounded like Young-il again. He didn't know if it was better or worse to hear him say whatever awful things he was about to say in the voice of his formerly trusted ally. The modified voice felt more fitting for his true self, now. Monstrous and inhuman.
“I do regret having to cut our game short, but your plan was too reckless. You might have gotten hurt, and what kind of host would I be if I let that happen on my watch.”
It was ridiculous. Gi-hun’s whole body was stinging with lashes inflicted by In-ho’s own hand, yet the man was presenting it as though he had done it out of concern for his safety. Gi-hun tried to scoff, but could only let out a weak huff of air.
In-ho paused his scrubbing, looking back at Gi-hun. His expression was unreadable. “You don’t believe me?”
“Didn’t know…” Gi-hun struggled with every syllable. “You… cared so much about me.” Even through the slur around the words, he spoke them with as much venom as he could muster.
In-ho looked back down at the leg he was scrubbing and continued, moving to wash his foot.
“I don’t want you dead,” In-ho amended. “But you had to be punished. You tried to dictate the terms of our game; I had to show you your place.”
Gi-hun huffed again. Obviously, his rebellion was doomed from the start, with ‘Young-il’ by his side. Maybe in another world, one where In-ho had given him the space to actually try, he could have succeeded.
“You never played fair,” Gi-hun mumbled. He felt childish saying it. He didn’t know why he bothered. Perhaps the drugs were loosening his tongue. The games were never fair; he should have expected them to pull out the same move they had with Il-nam. In-ho had even used the same number, practically taunting him for his naivety.
“I gave you every chance to play fairly,” In-ho said, scrubbing the other foot. “I let you play every game with all the same opportunities as the other players. You were the one who wanted to cheat and get out early.”
Gi-hun's eyelids grew heavy. He tired of this conversation.
“What if I lost?” He mused aloud.
“Then I would have had you removed,” In-ho said easily.
“That’s not fair,” Gi-hun pointed out. “You should have killed me like the rest.”
In-ho didn’t speak for a long time. Gi-hun almost nodded off, but right as he began to doze, In-ho spoke again. “You were on a different playing field than they were. But it was a fair game against me, at least. You had no more advantages than I had.”
Gi-hun didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to sleep.
“Didn’t feel fair when you had me strung up like that…”
In-ho smiled. “The house always wins, after all.”
He reached into the water and pulled the plug on the tub. It drained both too slow and too fast for Gi-hun’s liking. Time was slipping beyond his ability to perceive. The water receded below his hips, exposing him. He shivered.
He was starting to drift away. It was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open. He felt In-ho lifting him up and drying him off, carrying him back into the room with that hospital bed- now made again, like nothing had happened. The bedside table was even replaced.
In-ho laid him down with care, and Gi-hun would have hated it if he only had the energy to. He let his eyes slide shut as In-ho left the room. Finally, he could have some peace.
Or so he thought. Too soon In-ho was back, holding… Something. Gi-hun tried to glare at him as he set the kit down on the bedside table.
Then, In-ho started to reach down towards his crotch, and Gi-hun was shocked into full wakefulness.
“Wha’...” Gi-hun tried to ask what he was doing, but his damned tongue wouldn’t cooperate.
“Since you haven’t been cooperative, I’ve decided that keeping you sedated is for the best until your body can heal,” In-ho said, as if that explained why he was palming Gi-hun’s cock. He rubbed something wet and cold on the head, and Gi-hun sluggishly tried to get a grip on the covers to pull himself up, but he could barely twitch his fingers.
“Stop…” Gi-hun groaned.
“I am only doing this because it is necessary,” In-ho told him. He reached for something on the bedside table and rubbed some kind of liquid over it. It was a flexible tube of some sort. Gi-hun had a feeling that he didn’t want to see where it was meant to go.
“Stop!” Gi-hun cried out louder. In-ho ignored him, reaching down again for his cock.
“Because we have to keep you sedated, I have to do this in order to prevent any accidents,” In-ho said. “You can hardly walk to the bathroom yourself, can you?”
“Please,” Gi-hun whimpered. It was humiliating, being reduced to begging this easily. But the humiliation of having even the ability to go to the bathroom himself being taken away from him was worse. In-ho was denying him even the level of autonomy and independence it took to take a damn piss.
“You brought this on yourself,” In-ho scolded him coldly. “I can’t have you straining yourself throwing the furniture around, can I?”
Gi-hun didn’t even get to slur out another reply, because he felt In-ho pushing the tip of the hose in. It poked at the head of his cock, and, with firm and steady force, slipped inside. Gi-hun’s mouth fell open, and he took a shuddering breath.
The odd part was that it didn’t hurt. He could definitely feel it, and it made his skin crawl. It definitely wasn’t pleasant, feeling the tube slide on the inside of his urethra, but any pain he could have felt must have been dulled by whatever drugs he was on. He could feel everything, yet he was numb to it at the same time.
That was the physical aspect, anyway. The psychological aspect, though…
He watched In-ho as he put the tube further inside, and In-ho’s attention was fully centered on him in turn. His eyes flickered between Gi-hun’s crotch and his face, like he was studying both intensely. His dark eyes were half lidded. Gi-hun wanted to turn away, but he was trapped in place as every muscle in his body went completely rigid. All he could do was watch helplessly and pant for air through his open mouth.
In-ho’s eyes flickered to his lips for a second, and that was Gi-hun’s only warning before In-ho leaned forward to kiss him.
He felt In-ho’s tongue slip inside his mouth, and the combined violation made him want to scream. But it was swallowed by In-ho’s lips, and all that could escape was a breathy whine.
He shuddered as he felt the tube below hit a barrier of some sort. In-ho pulled off his mouth to look down at it.
Gi-hun gritted his teeth and finally tore his eyes away, staring at the wall.
“Ah. It’s stuck. Just let me-” In-ho didn’t bother to explain, and Gi-hun tried to drown it out. He didn’t want to be here. Mentally, he wanted to be anywhere else.
He gave another weak shudder as he felt In-ho gently moving the tube around inside him in a slow circular motion. He gasped as he felt In-ho’s hands on his cock again, and he felt the tube being pushed ever so slightly until-
Gi-hun huffed out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he felt it finally go past that resistance.
“There we go,” In-ho said, more to himself than Gi-hun. “Now we’ve just got to inflate it.”
Gi-hun closed his eyes and tried not to think about the building pressure. He also tried not to think about the way In-ho’s hands lingered on his dick far too long.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and felt tears spilling down his cheek.
He felt In-ho’s hands move away. But he didn’t hear the footsteps of him leaving the room. For a few minutes, there was only silence and the weight of In-ho’s eyes drilling into him.
“Do you regret coming back here?” In-ho finally said. “Knowing this was how it would end, would you have chosen to get on that plane?”
Gi-hun’s head jerked back around to face him, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
How could he not? He had been whipped, drowned, and violated beyond what he ever could have imagined- and he was smart enough to know In-ho’s appetite would not end there. This would only be the beginning of his suffering.
But then… He looked away, deep in thought.
How could he say he regretted it? If given the choice, how could he say he wished those few players he did manage to save, instead died just so he could have lived freely?
He flinched when he felt In-ho’s lips press on his temple. He looked back to see him smiling down at Gi-hun.
“I don’t either,” In-ho told him. “Goodnight, Gi-hun.”
Gi-hun watched as he left the room, shocked that In-ho would allow him to be left alone.
He let his eyes slide shut as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted.