Chapter 2: The Talk

A sharp ringing noise dragged Est from the depths his of endless sleep. His head splitted with pain, every throb feeling like a hammer blow. His throat felt as dry as sandpaper.

He fumbled blindly for the phone on the table, knocking over his remote before finding it.

"Hello..." He answered, his voice rough, groggy.

A pause.

Then a voice spoke— smooth, very amused."You left."

Est's eyes flew open. The haze of sleep vanished in the next instant. He sat up, the phone clutched tight in his hand, his breath catching at the sound.

Hong.

The name wrapped firmly around him and Est's headache pounded even harder. "What— how do you even have my number?"

"You gave it to me..." Hong replied, a hint of humor in his tone. "Not with your hand though. Could be when you called me last night?"

Est winced.

His memories were foggy, blurred by alcohol, but heat crawled up his cheeks anyway.

"You could've warned me better..." He snapped, referencing last night. "You just— dragged me into that place, into that... show. Do you have any idea what it did to me?"

There was a small chuckle on the other end. "What did you think was going to happen?"

Est choked on the sound. "I-i don't know. Definitely not that!"

"If I told you what you were going to see, I don't think it would have made a difference Est."

"It would have." The denial spilled out, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If that helps you sleep better." Hong tone was casual but mocking all the same.

Est clenched his jaw. His temples ached with the effort of holding himself together. "Do you know how messed up it is? That— that thing you do. Getting beaten like that and enjoying it. It's..." His voice faltered, but the word pushed out anyway. "Weird. It's like sex work. Just perversion wrapped up in leather."

The words were sharp, followed by a silence.

The moment he said it, Est regretted it. Wished he could take them back. His stomach dropped.

Hong didn't speak. Just held his tongue, his breathing sharper now, less comtrolled.

Est just listened, waited. Remorseful.

When Hong finally spoke, his voice was cold, the warmth stripped away. "I see."

"Hong, I didn't mean—" Est stammered, hid panic rising.

"Yes, you did." The smile was gone from Hong's tone now. Each word landed heavy, sharp. "Don't worry. I've heard it before."

Est pressed his fingers into his eyes, groaning. "Hong, I'm sorry. I just—"

"Maybe our world isn't meant for you..." Hong cut in, calm and precise. "I wish you well on your journey, Est."

The line went dead.

Est pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the screen. His chest ached. He groaned into the couch, burying his face into the headrest.

For hours he lay there— heavy, drifting in and out of his restless half sleep. When he finally stirred again, his gaze landed on the framed photo of Thame on the wall.

His throat tightened.

He stood up with unsteady feet, his head swaying and moved to it. His grabbed the small frame, touched the glass with trembling fingers, tracing Thame's smile.

And that was how he spent his morning— silent, wrapped in grief and regret.

The days blurred after that.

Est tried to write, sitting at his desk with the laptop open. The words refused to come. The sentences he forced out read hollow, void of emotion, dead.

He shut the document and closed the screen, unable to look at it.

He tried to sleep.

Instead, he saw flashes behind his eyelids— red light, the crack of leather, Hong's aroused voice counting each strike.

The way his body moved under the pain, not collapsing but embracing it. His eyes closing in pleasure, the sighs, the release, as though every blow lifted something heavy from him.

Est would shake himself awake, his heart racing.

He tried to distract himself with chores.

Washing the dishes— even the clean ones, refolding laundry, wiping the counters spotless.

But his mind always drifted back. His chest burned with confusion he couldn't put into words.

When the urges came— sharp, restless, clawing at him— he reached for the lighter again.

He held the flame to his skin, let it bite.

But it felt different now.

The sharp sting, the searing heat, it used to ground him. But now it barely cut through the fog.

It didn't soothe. It didn't release.

It just hurt.

He dropped the lighter and hissed through his teeth, staring at the angry red mark on his arm. His stomach turned.

The memory of Hong's sighs, the strange pleasure in his moans, it slid back into his mind.

When he hurt himself, it was grounding. It was survival.

When Hong was hurt, it was... something else. Something deeper.

Est pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to block it out. But the image stayed in his mind. Engraved. Burned.

By the end of the week, Est was restless, unsettled.

His apartment felt too small, the air too heavy.

His grief still pressed down brutally. It twisted and pulled at his insides. It was unbearable, he would close his eyes to ease the pain. And when he did, he would hear Hong's voice again.

"I could show you a better way."

it echoed over and over in his head like a mantra.

He didn't know when picked up his phone. Didn't remember pulling up Hong's number. But suddenly it was ringing, the sound loud in his ear.

His breath stuck in his throat when it clicked.

Neither of them spoke at first.

Est's heart thundered.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. He didn't know what to say.

Then, Hong sighed, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet when he spoke, almost sympathetic. "Here's the new code."

The drive that night felt endless. Eternal.

Est gripped the wheel too tight— his knuckles white, the city lights blurring past the window. His heart pounded against his ribs— fast and uneven, like it was trying to tear its way out.

Every red light stretched too long, every green light too short. The turns he knew by memory now felt like choices he shouldn't be making. Each corner he rounded pressed heavier on his chest, as if the night itself was closing in on him.

'Why am I doing this?'

The question looped in his head, louder than the hum of the engine.

He could turn back. He could go home, crawl into bed and forget the code Hong had given him. He could tell himself none of this happened.

But the memory tugged at him.

The whip, the moans, the release etched into Hong's face. The strange serenity of it.

Est's stomach turned. But he didn't.

By the time he pulled into the same parking spot, his palms were slick with sweat. The building looked just as it had before— dark, hollow, dangerous.

He sat in the car with the engine off, frozen.

His breath fogged the glass, too sharp, too shallow. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips.

'Just leave.' He told himself. Turn the key and drive away.

But his hand didn't move.

The minutes that ticked by almost slipped into an hour.

Finally, muttering a curse under his breath, Est forced himself out.

His legs trembled as he walked, each step heavier than the last.

He punched in the code, the door clicked, and he was swallowed inside.

The hallway was the same— dim, dark as he descended. When he arrived at the second door, the same red light, the same distant humming music.

His chest tightened with every step, but somehow his feet carried him forward.

The bar was crowded, voices rising in low laughter, the clink of glasses undercut by the music.

And there, sitting in the same spot as before, was Hong.

Well- dressed as always. Composed. Untouchable.

Waiting.

For him.

His silver hair caught the glow of the lights.

When his eyes flicked up and found Est's, a small smile ghosted his lips.

Est swallowed hard and crossed the room. His throat felt dry as sand.

"You came back..." Hong said simply, voice low, smooth. No traces of surprise.

It made Est self conscious. Almost embarrassed. He slid onto the stool beside him, eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to meet Hong's. "I— yeah."

Silence stretched, heavy, until Est blurted out a. "I'm sorry."

Hong tilted his head. "For what?"

"For what I said. About you. About this place. I was wrong."

Hong studied him, then let out a soft laugh. "You were wrong. But you were also ignorant. And ignorance cuts... sometimes. I was angry at first. Then I wasn't." His gaze softened. "But i'll accept your apology if it eases the stiffness in your shoulders."

Relief washed over Est, loosening the knot in his chest.

Hong leaned back, ordering a drink with a flick of his hand. "To be fair, I was more angry because you didn't join the party." His lips curved, eyes glinting with mischief. "That was the real insult."

Est blinked at him, stunned. "Join? I—" His voice faltered. "I don't understand..."

"Yes, join in... This is a space for acceptance, Est. And yes— I know what it looks like." Hong said, swirling his glass, the liquid catching in the light. "To the ordinary eyes, it's just violence. But to us... it's something else. A different kind of pleasure. It's partnership. Ownership. Trust."

Est frowned, words catching in his throat. Hong's words only confuse him further.

Hong saw the question in his eyes. "Do you remember the ones suspended?" Hong asked.

Est nodded in answer.

He continued. "Those people, they weren't being hurt for nothing. They gave their bodies, their breath, because they trusted the one holding the rope. That's not pain...or control. That's devotion."

Est shivered.

He remembered— the bodies swaying, wrapped and bound, eyes closed like they were dreaming.

Hong's tone softened. "And its true... Sex work does exists here. More than some care to admit. But not as much as you think. What you saw with me, that wasn't a transaction. It was... communion."

Est shifted in his seat, unsettled.

Hong studied him, then sighed. "I should have explained it better at first. Educated you. Instead, I threw you into fire and expected you to walk out healed... That was my mistake."

Est turned to him, surprised. "Why didn't you?"

Hong's eyes glimmered at the question and his smile was rife with mischief. "I got excited..." He reached out, stroking a stray strand out of his eyes. "You are beautiful Est." His voice was a gentle murmur, almost dreamy. "And intriguing. I wasn't joking when I said I wanted you to join in."

Est flushed, embarrassed at the compliment. Then his brow furrowed in further confusion. "Why? I don't see how that would be fun for you. You, getting beaten, and... and I..." He trailed off, fumbling.

Hong leaned close, voice lowering to a whisper. "I'll tell you a secret. You can't tell anyone." His breath brushed Est's ear, making him tremble.

Est nodded in response.

"I'm a switch." The words were hushed, so faint, Est thought he must have imagined it.

He blinked. "A... what?"

"A switch..." Hong explained patiently, pulling away. "Someone who can be both. A Dominant and a Submissive. Someone who enjoys either role. We are rare, misunderstood, often outcasts even here, because it makes us... unpredictable. Hard to keep."

The word sank into Est like water on sand. It made things clearer now.

"So you... You enjoy both sides?"

"Hmmm." Hong nodded, curling a strand of Est's hair around his finger. "Exactly. And when I saw you, I thought you'd be soft in my hands. Boneless. A new favorite toy to play with." His eyes met Est's. "But... apparently you have a spine." His lips curved. "Which makes you not my type, after all."

The words stunned Est, who processed everything quickly. Then for the first time, Est let out a startled laugh. It broke through the tension, sharp and sudden. "You really are a pervert.."

"That's a compliment, when its not derogatory..." Hong said, smiling back. "So thank you."

Something in Est eased.

His chest felt lighter, the weight dissolving.

He looked at Hong, and for the first time since Thame's death, the corner of his lips lifted— not just from humor, but from relief.

Hong's eyes glinted as he sipped his drink now, calm but sharp. "So I gave you a secret, Est..." He said lightly. "It's only fair you give me one in return."

Est froze.

His chest tightened. "I don't..." He shifted on the stool, gaze fixed on his hands. "I don't really have any secrets."

"Yes, you do..." Hong said softly, tilting his head. "I already know one. But I want to hear it from you."

The weight of his words pressed into Est's skin. He swallowed hard, throat parched.

For a long moment he thought about lying, about brushing it off. But Hong's gaze was steady, waiting. Not demanding, not cruel— just patient.

Est let out a shaky breath. "You already know." His voice was barely a whisper.

Hong nodded. "Yes. But tell me anyway. Tell me what started it. What led you there."

The bar noise blurred around them.

Est's vision stung. His heart felt like it was splitting in his chest, the words clawing at his throat. He took a steadying breath and said. "It was Thame..."

Hong settled in his seat, gaze focused, listening.

"My partner..." Est whispered. His voice cracked on the word. "He... he died. Plane crash. Three months ago."

The air shifted, heavy.

Hong didn't speak, didn't interrupt.

"It was sudden. It was... ugly." Est's eyes blurred with tears. He stared down at the bar, seeing nothing. "I spoke to him... mere minutes before. Kissed him goodbye. I was driving away when I heard the collision... I remember praying as I sped back to the airport." His chest hitched. "When i saw the disaster, it was like the world stopped. Felt like it was ending... But after— the world kept going, and I..." His voice broke into silence.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand— clumsy, frustrated. "I didn't know how to go on with it. I don't— I don't know who I am without him."

Hong's hand reached across the space— strong and steady, and covered Est's trembling one, giving it a comforting squeeze. Warmth seeped through the contact.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

Est almost pulled away, but something inside him broke. Then the tears came hard and he broke.

He leaned forward, and Hong let him. Arms folded around him— strong and sure, holding him in a way that didn't fix anything but didn't let him fall either.

Est buried his face in Hong's shoulder, body shaking. "I can't—" He couldn't bring himself to say more, scared of breaking even further.

"You can..." Hong reassured. "You already are."

For a long time, Est stayed there, letting the storm pass. When he finally pulled back, his face was wet, his heart bruising. He avoided Hong's concerned gaze, wiping away his tears, embarrassed.

Hong motioned to the bartender who brought out a box of tissues. He offered them to Est.

"Thank you." Est sniffled.

"Its okay Est... take your time." His words were comforting.

A steadying beat passd, before Est spoke again.

"Y-You asked what my secret was..." Est said, voice hoarse. "It's not just that he died. It's what came after."

Hong listened. Waited.

Est stared at the counter, voice low. "One day, not long after the funeral, I burned myself by accident. A kettle. It hurt, but it also..." He paysed, took a steadying breath. "It felt like relief. Like for a second, the pain in my chest was quiet..."

Another deep breath. "So I started doing it on purpose. Again. And again." His hands curled into fists. "I know it's pathetic. I know it's—"

"It's not pathetic." Hong interrupted gently.

Est's breath shook. "It doesn't even feel good. It's not like I enjoy it. It's just... bearable. More bearable than the hollow ache in here." He pressed a finger against his chest. "But when I saw you, when that man hurt you... you sighed, like it was— like it was pleasure." His voice faltered. "I don't understand that. I can't stop thinking about it. And I..."

Hong's eyes softened with understanding.

"I want to try it your way..." Est whispered, the words trembling out of him. "Maybe... maybe I could find something there. Something that feels like more than just survival."

Hong exhaled slowly, leaning back. His gaze searched Est's face, weighing the words. "You can. But you can't try it tonight." He said at last.

Est blinked, meeting Hong's gaze, desperate. "Why?"

"Because people like us... we're not all the same Est. There are submissives and there are masochists. A submissive might not enjoy pain, but they enjoy giving themselves over to it. To orders, to trust. A masochist—" Hong's lips curved faintly. "Pain is their heaven. Their ticket out of the body. From what you've told me, you don't really fit into either. Not yet."

Est's hands clenched on his knees. "But I'm— I'm willing. I'm willing to try."

Hong shook his head gently. "You don't understand. This isn't something you just walk into, Est. Your body has to be prepared. Your mind, too. Or you'll break in the wrong way."

Est's breath hitched. "I already feel like I'm breaking every day. I can't wait any longer. I'm scared I'll... go too far. Hurt myself in a way I can't undo."

Hong's expression narrows, the concern evident in his eyes. He looked away for a moment, gaze distant, as if weighing something heavy.

"I can't give you to anyone else..." He said finally. "The only Doms I trust are already claimed. The rest..." His jaw set and he shook his head. "The rest don't have boundaries I'd trust you with."

Est leaned forward, clutching his palm, his voice urgent. "Then do it yourself. Please."

Hong's eyes snapped back to him. For a long moment, silence stretched.

The air between them was thick with Est's plea. "You don't know what you're asking." Hong said softly.

"I do..." Est insisted, voice cracking. "Or maybe I don't. But I can't keep going like this. I need... something. Anything."

Hong's gaze held his for a long moment.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a new light forming.

He studied Est for a long moment, searching, deciding. Finally, he asked. "Are you sure, Est?"

Est nodded, fierce despite the tremor in his chest. "Yes."

Hong's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, slowly, he rose from his seat and extended a hand."Come with me."

Est's stomach flipped. His breath caught.

It was going to happen.

His hand trembled as he placed it in Hong's.

Hong led him past the bar, deeper into the club. The same dimly lit hallway, darker, quieter, with each descent. He even passed his own chamber. Est remembered the read overhead lights that flickered above his room.

He led him down a stairwell, into a corridor that felt almost underground. Even the music didn't reach here. It felt like a dungeon.

Est's breath quickened with every step, but he didn't pull away.

At last, Hong stopped before a door. He pulled a key from his pocket, slid it into the lock, and turned it.

The door swung open with a low creak.

Inside was nothing like Hong's.

This one was sparse— stripped of personality.

Just black wallpaper, a king-size bed, a large chest, and a towering X-shaped cross fixed to the wall, cuffs dangling from its arms. From the ceiling, a bar with a chain hung low, glinting faintly in the dim white lights. The air smelled only of of leather and metal.

It made Est's stomach twist.

Hong turned to him, voice low. "Do you remember what I did last time?"

Est swallowed thickly, pulse racing. Then with a nod, he answered. "Yes."

"Then you know what to expect." Hong's eyes searched his face. Saw the unease. "Are you sure Est? Really sure."

"Yes." Est echoed his previous answer, voice tighter.

"Okay. Get undressed. There's a blindfold on the bed. Put it on. And kneel. He'll be here soon."

Before Est could say anything, Hong was gone, closing the door behind him.

Est stood frozen, his nerves pressing down on him.

Everything in the room unnerved him. He felt an unwelcome prickle in his neck. His hair stood on edge. He like prey, waiting on a predator.

Slow, uncertain, his fingers lifted, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, but then he stopped. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to strip. The thought of being bare, exposed, made his skin crawl.

Taking a shaky breath, he picked up the blindfold laid out on the bed and moved to the center of the room. Slowly, he lowered to his knees on the bare, cold floor. Then he lifted the silk fabric, tied it over his eyes, securing it with tight knot.

Darkness closed in. Further elevating his anxiety.

Then he waited.

His breaths came out uneven, shallow. The silence stretched forever, almost unbearably. His impatience grew with every second that ticked by.

Then— a faint click of the door.

Est's breathing stopped, his nerves spiking.

Footsteps echoed across the room— loud and steady. Each one sounded louder in the quiet, made his body tense even tighter.

Then the movements stopped.

For a long moment, nothing. Just silence.

Then, the faint creak of the bed.

The room was so still Est could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

A voice cut through the dark— soft but cold, unfamiliar.

"You're not supposed to be here."

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Next chapter should be out Friday or Saturday♥️