Darkness pressed against Lian like a second, smothering skin—heavy, hot, and impossible to breathe through.
He couldn't move. He couldn't see. He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or sealed shut.
Only the sound reached him first. A slow, warm breath dragging close to his cheek… and then the softest, most deliberate nibble at his ear.
Lian's body convulsed, a weak, broken gasp escaping him. He tried to recoil, but his limbs were anchors of stone, every part of his body aching with a punishing, unfamiliar weight. His eyelids felt impossibly glued down.
A low voice, faint, deep, and purely merciless, chuckled. "Shh… don't fight it."
Warm lips ghosted across his jawline. A long, possessive finger slid along the side of his throat, tracing the frantic beat of his pulse as if meticulously memorizing it. Every touch felt distant, submerged, like someone else's pain was wearing his skin.
He tried to speak, to scream—but only managed to break into a weak, strangled cry as his lower body was stretched and fucked hard mercilessly . A searing heat ignited inside him, a burning that stole his breath.
His mouth opened in a silent scream. A large hand cupped the back of his head, strong fingers tenderly wrapped around his silky, chestnut-brown hair. His arms wouldn't lift. His legs wouldn't respond. His mind was dissolving mud, thoughts slipping away before he could grasp them.
Someone whispered against his lips after biting his lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp and a whimpering sob. "You taste scared… and sweet as rich, dark chocolate. And maybe… not suitable for one time use."
A raw shiver of terror ripped through him. Not one time use? Was this unknown devil already planning to hunt him again? Fear, cold and sharp, sank deep into Lian's bones.
Those unknown, strong hands pinned his hips firmly. A hungry, claiming breath trembled against his shoulder—unhurried, as if the man were gently uncorking a vintage bottle of wine for his own savoring.
Lian felt everything and understood nothing.
Heat. Pressure. His heartbeat slamming a panicked rhythm in his ears. His voice was a pathetic knot in his throat, too numb to call for help.
He tried again to move. Nothing obeyed. Only the exquisite, violating ache intensified.
The world blurred into shadows, touch, and muffled sound—until a sudden, intense coldness hit his skin, swiftly followed by a blinding, explosive pressure inside him. The man exhaled sharply, a deep, pleased, and darkly animal noise.
"I'll remember this chocolate's taste… maybe forever."
Lian gripped the sheets weakly but tightly.
Then, the strong hand covered his own, pinning his wrist. He heard the other man groan, a raw sound of deep pleasure, as he buried himself fully to release. He hid his face at Lian's neck.
"A-ah… burns… h-hurts… stop…" Lian hissed painfully, hot, helpless tears soaking the blindfold tied around his eyes. Everything hurt, yet he had not a single shred of energy left to protest.
The overwhelming presence dissolved into the dark before Lian could fully place it.
Then, silence. The pressure, the weight, the voice—everything was gone, replaced only by the faint sounds of rustling clothes and a softly closing door.
It left him cold, broken, exhausted, sore, and profoundly empty.
The last thing he remembered was a hand brushing his hair back, a final, strangely gentle gesture that felt wrong, wrong, wrong—as if to say: I am not what you think I am.
And then, everything collapsed. He fell asleep faintly sobbing into the stained sheets.
***
When Lian woke, everything hurt.
His eyelids burned when he forced them open. A dim, golden light flickered above him—too soft for a hospital, too gorgeously appointed to be a normal room.
The heavy, cloying scent of alcohol and expensive perfume lingered in the air.
He pushed himself up, his head spinning. His knees trembled uncontrollably. The plush, dark velvet couch underneath him wasn't familiar. He was in a luxurious private room… at the bar he had visited last night, the one named "Velvet Kiss."
His whole body was naked, his skin marked with angry red bruises.
His breath hitched, and he quickly clutched the nearest cushion to cover himself. Someone had been with him. Recently. Intimately… far closer than they should have been. And judging by the damage, it was certainly no woman.
His fingers brushed his collarbone—bruised and tender. His inner thighs were acutely sore. He saw distinct bite marks and the evidence of dried-out semen. It had absolutely been a man. He was twenty-five, but in this moment, he felt like a child who had been brutalized.
A cold wave of shock and nausea crashed through him. He felt lightheaded, dizzy with horror. He quickly scanned the room, spotted a clear glass jar of tablets, and swallowed two hard with a long gulp of water.
"That's… so creepy," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Even men get raped by…" He paused, his wide, bloodshot eyes glazing over with silent, horrified understanding. "By men."
He forced himself to take a series of deep breaths. In and out. Hold for four seconds, then release. It was a familiar, desperate rhythm he used to regain control.
Once slightly stable, he searched the room again. Empty. Silent.
But the haunting ghost of a powerful touch still clung to his skin, making his shoulders tense and his body involuntarily tremble. An unexpected, agonizing clenching deep in his lower body made him gasp, a reaction that felt horribly embarrassing, yet intensely real.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed violently beside him, snapping him out of the haze. He grabbed it instantly, seeing his best friend, Sam's, name flashing on the screen.
A message from him—a cruel echo of his rising panic: "Where the hell are you?! Your Mom's furious. And… one of our calssmate at the bar saw you with a rich guy there. Be careful..I've a bad feeling.."
Lian's stomach and phone..both dropped out from under him.
Rich guy?
He didn't remember the man. He didn't remember anything before the dark room.
Except that voice in the dark. That same voice that promised: I'll remember this chocolate's taste. Maybe forever…
Maybe forever.
The word hammered in his skull like fate tightening a noose around his throat. He wasn't sure how true the man's dark words were. Or how long he had left before he found himself caged up again.