⚠ Content note for this chapter: explicit sexual content.
Mok-young’s gaze moved to Hae-gang’s face. His wife — who had told him to hurt him if he wished — was indeed looking at him with a face full of lust, quite greedily. The moment he realized it, his strength drained and a strange relief filled one corner of his chest. It wasn’t only he who was desperate to devour this man’s yang energy — this man was just as desperate to devour his yin energy — and the sight made him think he could simply surrender. No — feeling he knew that unbearable longing all too well, he simply wanted to allow it.
“You, of all people, need not hold back.”
Mok-young lifted his hand to cup the back of Hae-gang’s neck as he spoke. It was clear permission. In that moment Mok-young saw Hae-gang’s gaze waver greatly, and once more he felt, deep and sudden, how much Hae-gang desired him.
“My name. Hae-gang.”
At the abrupt words, Mok-young’s brows twitched, then he understood and let out a hollow laugh. As he had called Hae-gang’s name earlier, so Hae-gang wanted his name called too. Mok-young had already called his name a moment ago, but Hae-gang wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted Mok-young to call him properly — yearning for him.
He was truly an honest man, Dan Mok-young’s wife. He never hesitated to say what he wanted. Mok-young didn’t yet know that he was especially so before him, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was that, here and now, that honesty was melting Mok-young’s wall of ice once more.
“You need not hold back, Hae-gang.”
Riding the momentum, Mok-young put strength into the hand gripping Hae-gang’s nape, drawing his head down toward him, and then kissed him himself. And in that moment, Hae-gang, as permitted, held back no longer and began to slowly enter him.
“Hngh…!”
Mok-young nearly regretted his words for a fleeting moment. As feared, Hae-gang’s cock was hard and thick, delivering a pressure beyond any comparison to fingers. But his insides, thoroughly loosened and soaked from the earlier stirring, were not merely overwhelmed. Even as the foreign feeling — as if his guts were being pushed — nearly snapped his head back, the squirming push inward, the tight stretch that seemed to smooth every fold of his inner walls, the heavy weight bearing down on his peak — from it all, pleasure began to bloom, slow and creeping.
Mok-young’s insides contracted instinctively, trying to adjust to Hae-gang. It seemed almost to draw him deeper. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to. And as Hae-gang’s scent grew thicker, Mok-young felt his mind going hazy.
It was a scent he had never smelled in his life. Even before perfecting the Hyeonsin Art, as he began reaching higher realms, he had nearly stopped smelling the scents of other people. So the very act of smelling such a scent was, for Mok-young, a thing of long ago.
Was it the smell of dry earth? With something like salty dampness mixed in, his mind naturally pictured a coastline. A sheer cliff beside the sea, and trumpet creeper blossoms blooming in lush abundance as if to cover it. The sunlit flower’s scent poured down, rolling over the faint underlying smell of the sea, as if to drench Mok-young through.
“Haa…”
Hae-gang’s yang pushed deeper and deeper inside, and Mok-young felt hot yang energy surging richly into him. Yes — it was truly the sea. Hae-gang’s yang energy rolled in like waves upon the shore, swallowed Mok-young whole where he stood on that shore, and dragged him out into the deep open sea.
His belly filled with a heat like boiling, with yang energy. It was the moment Hae-gang’s cock had driven in to the very root. Merely having swallowed it all, Mok-young’s insides already brimmed with fullness. Quick, hot breaths kept spilling out, and now he could hardly register awkwardness or strangeness. All of it had sunk deep into this sea of blazing yet endlessly gentle bliss and melted away.
And in that instant Hae-gang too felt a piercing chill, as if his chest had been run through. Even as his manhood pierced Mok-young’s body, the yin energy spreading from Mok-young struck his chest heavily — *thud!* — as if to pierce it. For a moment Hae-gang squeezed his eyes shut against the dizziness and breathed raggedly. Breathing itself was hard just then; he gasped and bowed his head, and Mok-young, sensing his faltering at once, hurriedly cupped his face with both hands and lifted it.
“…I’m all right. Don’t worry, my wife.”
He couldn’t bring himself to ask if Hae-gang was all right, but seeing the worry filling Mok-young’s gaze, Hae-gang smiled softly and spoke. Even so, cold sweat streamed down his temple. The thought — *had this truly been reckless?* — crossed his mind, but did not linger.
Though an overwhelming force had struck him for an instant, it didn’t feel purely dangerous. Hae-gang knew instinctively that he would not die. Instead he craved more. He had to take in this strong yin energy. His heart pounded violently, as if resonating with something. The primal longing deep in his chest kept urging him to join further.
“It’s just… this is my first time, so my heart was a little startled.” Hae-gang added the words as if to reassure Mok-young. But the words were ambiguous. What was a first time? Whether it was his first time joining with another, or his first time colliding with such strong yin energy, was unclear — but Mok-young had no leisure to ask. Not that he was tactless enough to ask, and besides, Hae-gang began to move his hips.
The heavy, slow movement grew bolder little by little, then soon became a fierce act that made Mok-young’s body ring — *thud! thud! thud!* Mok-young let go of Hae-gang’s nape and wrapped his arms around his shoulders instead, holding him close, and Hae-gang bent deeper, burying his face in Mok-young’s shoulder and concentrating on the rhythm of his hips.
Hae-gang’s cock, which had long been dripping pre-fluid as if it would burst, knew no restraint. The moment it truly drove into Mok-young and began to rub against that slick, tender flesh, it raged like a wild beast that had lost all reason in a breath. Hae-gang grew drunk on the camellia scent drifting from Mok-young, and Mok-young on the trumpet creeper scent drifting from Hae-gang, and the act swiftly raced toward frenzy.
White light flashed before his eyes like lightning, and Mok-young’s cock hardened with strength again, already leaking pre-fluid without being touched. In this moment Mok-young’s body was a complete eumin. Not merely an eumin — one could well call him an extreme yin person.
His body accepted every sensation Hae-gang gave as pure pleasure, and longed to hold all the yang energy he poured within himself — within the eumin’s “womb.” The more yang energy Hae-gang poured, the more his body was swept into greater joy, his whole frame trembling.
“Hae-gang… Hae-gang…! Huuuhk—! Too, ha, too deep…!” Mok-young was calling Hae-gang’s name without realizing it. Whether it meant restraint or urging, there was no telling. The same went for “too deep.” Perhaps he was afraid, and yet perhaps he was saying he would gladly swallow even that fear.
*Smack! Smack! Smack!* The violent sound of flesh striking flesh filled the room, and the bed shook, going beyond creaking to make heavy thuds — *thud, thud*. Such fierce joining was a first for them. No — joining itself was a first for both of them. So they had no way of knowing whether it was always this fierce, but anyone watching would have called them mad.
The wondrous thing was that Mok-young felt no pain, and Hae-gang felt no drain of his strength. The more entangled they became, the greater and hotter the flames surged; they knew only craving for each other.
Their whole bodies were drenched in sweat, and the slippery feel was all the more indecent; Mok-young moved his arms again and again to re-embrace Hae-gang. He had to catch hold whenever he might slip, and not wanting to let go, he pressed closer — already soaked through with Hae-gang’s yang energy, past the point of escape.
And at last—
Hae-gang’s cock drove to the deepest place it could reach, and as it bore down heavily on Mok-young’s womb, he began to spill his seed in surging pulses. It was an utterly foreign sensation to Mok-young. He hadn’t even known his body held an eumin’s womb, and now it met a yangin man’s cock for the first time, greedily drinking in his seed — a dizzying feeling that made him shudder.
Fullness? Ecstasy? Ruin? Vague, tangled emotions knotted together in Mok-young’s mind into an inexpressible mass — but one thing was clear: *I don’t hate it.*
A new joy. Yes — Mok-young’s body had now learned a new joy.
“Haa… haa…”
Mok-young could no longer hold Hae-gang’s body; he let both arms drop limply onto the bed and only panted. His legs were still wrapped around Hae-gang’s waist and legs, but even that hold had gone slack. loosening until his legs splayed open to the sides, while his belly and chest, ridged with muscle, rose and fell rapidly with his ragged breaths. All the while, thin, watery seed kept dribbling from the tip of his cock, wetting his belly.
“Thank goodness I’m married to this man.”
Still unable to master his ragged breaths, Mok-young gazed blankly up at Hae-gang’s face as the thought crossed his mind. Absurd as it sounded even to himself, he meant it. Thank goodness they were married — had he learned of such pleasure without that bond… The mere thought was horrifying, and Mok-young shuddered. At the same time, his body involuntarily clenched below, gripping Hae-gang’s member tight, and Hae-gang, breathing out a hot breath of his own, slowly collapsed forward onto him.
“Are you alive?”
Mok-young managed to lift one hand onto Hae-gang’s back as he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. A smile crossed Hae-gang’s lips, and without answering at once, he slid his arms beneath Mok-young’s body to wrap tightly around his waist and back, pressing closer still. Only belatedly did he nod slowly — yes, alive.
He had the slow, placid air of an ox about him, and in this moment it struck Mok-young as strangely languid, strangely sensual, and he felt a needless fluttering heat prickle at one corner of his chest.
His heart thumped. Knowing Hae-gang would feel every beat of it, shame washed over him, and Mok-young turned his burning-red face away. After all the far more shameful things they had done, his heart was undone by this one small thing.
“I told you not to worry. Didn’t I say I… am not incapable of doing a man’s duty?”
Hae-gang said it with his face buried deep in the nape of Mok-young’s neck. Mok-young turned his head slightly, his lips nearly brushing Hae-gang’s ear, then shifted again, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling.
“It’s only… that this is my first time, so my heart seems a little startled.”
It must have been meant to reassure Mok-young, but instead it needlessly reminded him of something forgotten — along with a wretched curiosity: *Where has he done a man’s duty before, then?*
So this prince did everything there was to do even while sick and ailing, did he?
With looks that fine, there must have been a line of people happy to have him, lying down or standing.
Mok-young was relaxed enough now for such idle thoughts to cross his mind. And for once, he didn’t bother holding back what he wanted to say. Having already shown every side of himself he hadn’t wanted seen, what was left to hide?
“Sounds like you’ve done a man’s duty in quite a few places.”
Mok-young said it, tilting his head toward Hae-gang. His voice was rough, hoarse from all the hot breaths and stifled moans, and Hae-gang felt a strange shiver run through him. He jerked his head up, loosened his embracing arms, even lifted his upper body to meet Mok-young’s eyes.
“No, no! It’s not like that!”
The answer burst out of Hae-gang far too urgently. Having been snubbed once already, and having waited well over ten days to finally have his wedding night, he seemed afraid he might be cast out again the moment it was over — urgency clouded his face.
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