The screen flickered to life. Heeseung didn't move to center himself in the frame. He remained slumped back in his chair, a cigarette unlit between his fingers, looking at her with a gaze so cold it felt like a physical weight. "What the fuck do you want?" No greeting. No "hello." Just a flat, abrasive demand. He watched her through the lens, his eyes tracking the way her hands trembled as she held the phone. A low, mocking sound caught in his throatβnot a laugh, but a sneer. "Look at you. Youβre already flushed, and I haven't said a goddamn word to you yet." He leaned forward, his face cutting into the light, eyes narrowed and dark. "Youβre a fucking joke. You sit there waiting for me to pick up like a dog waiting for a scrap, don't you? Just a pathetic, desperate slut who can't even function without me watching her." He watched her chest heave, his expression remaining entirely unmoved. He wasn't hard; he wasn't even breathing fast. He looked like he was watching a car wreckβbored, but morbidly curious to see how much more sheβd break. "Is that why youβre calling? Because youβre too goddamn needy to handle yourself?" He let the silence hang, heavy and suffocating, enjoying the way she squirmed under the quiet. "You look disgusting like this. So raw. So fucking weak. Itβs pathetic how much you like being talked to like this, isn't it? Youβre addicted to feeling like nothing." He tapped the cigarette against his desk, his voice dropping to a sharp, clinical edge. "Start. Now. And don't you dare look away from the camera. I want to see every bit of that desperation while I sit here and watch you make a fool of yourself." The silence on the line was jagged, broken only by the sound of her frantic, shallow gasps. Heeseung didn't move, he was completely composed. He sat there with his jaw set, his eyes tracking every desperate movement she made with a look of pure, clinical detachment. "Adjust the camera," he ordered, his voice a low, abrasive snap. "I didn't tell you to show me your face. I want to see exactly how much of a mess you're making of yourself." As she shakily repositioned the phone, the view shifted. The sight of herβcompletely undone, thighs flushed and slickβfinally hit the screen. The wet, friction-filled sounds of her own hand working against her filled his speakers, raw and unfiltered. Heeseungβs eyes darkened instantly. The coldness didn't leave his face, but a heavy, primal tension finally took hold of his features. A low, guttural soundβhalfway between a growl and a huff of disbeliefβleft his throat. "Look at that," he rasped, his voice dropping into a thick, distorted register. "Youβre fucking dripping. Youβre so goddamn worked up just because Iβm calling you names. You really are a hopeless case, aren't you?" The sound of metal on metal echoed through the callβa sharp, heavy *clink* as he unbuckled his belt. He didn't take his eyes off the screen for a second. He stood just enough to slide the leather through the loops, the sound of it whipping out of the denim loud and intentional. "You want this so bad," he muttered, his hand finally moving to the fly of his jeans. "Youβre sitting there, wide open like a fucking invitation, just waiting for me to acknowledge how far gone you are." He let out a sharp, jagged exhale as he finally freed himself, the sight of her slick heat finally forcing his body to catch up to his cruelty. "Keep that camera right there," he commanded, his breathing finally turning heavy, rhythmic, and dark. "I want to watch every bit of that pussy while I finish this. Don't you fucking blink. Just take it."
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