"Gah—ack!"
He choked, his eyes watering as he desperately tried to erase the taste, the bitterness, the saltiness, the sourness... that goddamn sll. It was in his mouth, in his throat, in his nose. It was fucking everywhere.
He doubled over, retching, but there was nothing left to spit out.
No escape from the fact that most of the load had gone straight down his throat, a one-way ticket to his stomach.
His face twisted in disgust, a tortured noise escaping him as he continued to scrape at his tongue, practically clawing at his own mouth.
Artis watched this pathetic display, his laughter finally dying down to amused chuckles.
"You know, for soone who acted so manly, you sure took that like a champ."
He smirked, winking at the homo guy who was still basking in his post-orgasm glow, looking like he'd just reached Nirvana.
Bicep Guy looked up, his face contorted with rage, sha, and an ungodly mixture of emotions he'd rather die than admit to.
His trembling legs barely held him up as he stumbled back, his eyes darting from Artis to the homo guy, then to the laughing crowd of workers who would undoubtedly never let him live this down.
He tried to speak, to curse them, to scream, to do anything to regain his shattered pride... but all that ca out was another wet, humiliating gurgle, his voice drowned out by the lingering taste on his tongue.
"Oh... oh shit... he really has beco a homo..."
"Oh man. He drank it. He fucking drank cum."
"The forbidden nectar... reserved for won and gays."
The beaten n whispered, but they were about as subtle as a drunk bard at a funeral.
Their voices were loud, echoing off the courtyard walls, and the words were crystal clear.
If embarrassnt were a weapon, Bicep Guy would've been impaled a hundred tis over by now.
But the tragic idiot was so busy frantically wiping his mouth, scraping his tongue, and gagging on his own sha that he didn't hear a single whisper.
His hands were going at his face like he was trying to claw his own head off, scrubbing desperately as if he could cleanse his pride along with the taste.
"Man... two homos... who would've thought?"
They kept going, rcilessly. anwhile, the real homo guy had his eyes closed, looking like he'd just experienced divine enlightennt.
His body was still shuddering from the orgasmic high, his face glazed with bliss.
Sure, it was from a bearded, sweaty, muscle-brained bear of a man, but hey—warmth was warmth. The dude looked like he'd just ascended to a higher plane of existence.
Then, Artis clapped his hands together, the sound echoing like a judge's gavel, commanding everyone's attention. His grin was so wide it was practically splitting his face.
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"Lads and gentlen..."
Every head turned to him. Because in that mont, Artis wasn't just so pretty boy.
No, he was the undisputed king of this absolute circus of humiliation. And not a single one of those bastards wanted to end up like Bicep Guy.
Face-planting into dick clearly wasn't on their bucket lists.
Artis surveyed his audience, his smugness practically radiating off him.
"As you can see, your boss here has gracefully accepted homosexuality. In fact..."
He gestured grandly at the still-gagging Bicep Guy, who was now dry-heaving in sheer horror.
"He's gone above and beyond. He didn't just accept it... he embraced it. Mouth first. With enthusiasm."
There was a beat of silence, and then the n lost it. Snickers turned into giggles, which snowballed into full-blown laughter.
So of them were on their knees, clutching their sides, tears streaming down their faces.
"Embraced it like he was born for it!" one guy shouted, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Man, he didn't just co out of the closet—he busted the door off its hinges!" another cackled.
Artis grinned, relishing the chaos.
Bicep Guy's eyes bulged, his face a twisted ss of humiliation and horror. His body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane before he finally snapped.
He turned and bolted, stumbling like a drunk deer, nearly tripping over his own feet as he fled the scene.
His broken jaw flapped uselessly, still leaking the remnants of his salty sha.
The poor bastard didn't even bother wiping his mouth this ti—he just wanted to get as far away from his dignity as possible.
anwhile, Artis wasted no ti. He scooped Lily up like she was a sack of flour, effortlessly hoisting her into a princess carry. Her eyes went wide, and she flailed her arms.
"W-Wait!"
Too late. She was already in the air, her legs dangling as she clung to his neck for dear life.
Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she tried to act all flustered.
Artis grinned, his confidence as cocky as ever.
"Let's get out of here before he decides he wants to go for another round. Who knows? Maybe next ti, he'll swallow with pride."
Lily's jaw dropped, her face going beet red. She opened her mouth to retort, but all that ca out was an embarrassed squeak.
She quickly shut her lips. At this rate, her heart was going to burst out of her chest.
Artis turned to the still-stunned workers, who were staring at him like he was so kind of mythical beast.
He gave them a mock salute, his grin wicked.
"So long, partners! Hope we don't cross paths again. And don't make co back here... unless you're all planning to join the homo club, too!"
The workers flinched, their faces going pale.
A collective shudder ran through the group as they rembered Bicep Guy's fate.
One guy even crossed his legs protectively. Another made the sign of the cross, praying to the gods to save his straightness.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. They weren't about to risk their pride—or their throats—for catcalling so chick, no matter how hot she was.
They were done. Lesson learned. They'd rather be celibate than risk another encounter with that terrifying, dick-flipping demon.
Artis winked at them, turned on his heel, and strutted away with Lily still cradled in his arms, looking like the victorious rogue he was.
Behind him, the workers exchanged horrified glances before unanimously deciding that they were never, ever going to ss with Hajin or Lily again.
Nobody wanted to end up like Bicep Guy. Absolutely nobody.
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