⚠ Content note for this chapter: explicit sexual content.
Hot breath rose quickly. His nape flushed crimson and stiffened with strength. When it became unbearable, their lips parted briefly, but even then Hae-gang devoured Mok-young’s lips as if to eat them—biting with his teeth, licking with his tongue, ravenously feasting. And every sensation drove Mok-young mad.
It wasn’t unpleasant. He kept dodging without meaning to, but Mok-young didn’t dislike this heat.
That was why he truly didn’t push Hae-gang away with any resolve. Mok-young’s hands gripped Hae-gang’s arms and shoulders. His hands, gripping and regripping, were an expression of some hesitation—neither pushing Hae-gang away nor pulling him firmly close.
But when Hae-gang’s lips came to meet his again at last, his mouth opened and took the tongue once more, entwining so hotly the roots of his tongue ached—then Mok-young’s hands moved too. Following his yearning a little more. Feeling up Hae-gang’s arms, gripping his shoulders, then past his shoulders, and simply pulling Hae-gang into a tight embrace.
Danmok could not turn away from this heat. Even in this moment, a primal warning rang in his head—that Go Hae-gang needed him right now.
He was the one who could take Go Hae-gang’s lava-like flames. It might be a strange confidence, but it was an instinct that settled in naturally. Or perhaps he simply wanted to fill this unfillable, cool hunger of his own with Go Hae-gang.
“*Haa… haa…*”
Only now was Mok-young given room to breathe, and he panted heavily. And at his ear rang equally hot breaths—Go Hae-gang’s. Hae-gang too breathed roughly, staring straight into Mok-young’s eyes.
Mok-young released one of the hands clutching Hae-gang’s clothes. Then he slowly raised it and cupped Hae-gang’s cheek. The moment his cool hand touched him, Hae-gang’s eyes squeezed shut, but the way his eyelids sank down as if closing gently showed it wasn’t dislike. To Hae-gang, burning like a fireball, Mok-young’s frost-laden touch was mercy itself. After the tingling chill passed, a flush of pleasure spread, and Hae-gang naturally leaned his cheek into Mok-young’s palm, nuzzling slowly.
In this moment, the face of Hae-gang that met Mok-young’s eyes was beautiful beyond compare. Beautiful as a fully bloomed flower, enough to stop his breath, and the deep, rich scent of trumpet creepers rising off Hae-gang made saliva gather on Mok-young’s tongue.
*Haa.* Mok-young’s head dipped slightly, his gaze lowering. It was hard to withstand Hae-gang’s gaze, which was staring into his eyes with such tenacity. A male yangin, lusting after him, looking at him with such heated eyes—and to feel drawn to him, calling him beautiful in that gaze. He knew there was nothing wrong with feeling it, but he couldn’t help the bashfulness welling up.
And to Hae-gang’s eyes, this instant—his wife bashfully lowering his eyes—looked unbearably lovely. For all that he was a man stalwart beyond compare, why his heart pounded so at this big man’s flushed-with-desire yet clumsy moments, even Go Hae himself could hardly say. But in the end it meant he liked him that much, so Hae-gang moved his next hand without hesitation.
Srrr—
A rasping sound reached Mok-young’s ear. Hae-gang’s hand, which had been cupping his cheek and pressing his thumb firmly under his eye, moved back. His heart sank, knowing full well what that hand would do, and then the sound came, and the straps cinching the leather guard began to loosen.
His lowered gaze couldn’t seem to lift. His throat felt as if it were burning—thinking how red it must look, revealed at last, he felt even more at a loss and turned his head fully aside. But he didn’t stop Hae-gang; instead he only gripped Hae-gang’s clothes more firmly.
And then, at some moment, Hae-gang’s lips touched Mok-young’s with a soft *smack* and lifted away. When Mok-young flinched and tried to raise his head, Hae-gang seized the gap and began showering kisses on his lips, one after another, with audible *smacks*.
“Th—that’s… enough. Stop.”
With deepening embarrassment Mok-young told him to stop, but he only turned his head slightly aside; he didn’t push Hae-gang away. Hae-gang’s fingers had already slipped inside the leather guard, hooked there, ready to pull it off at any moment. But Mok-young didn’t shake off even that touch, gritting his teeth. Had the thought crossed him—*hurry, pull it off for me?*
“How can you give off such a sweet scent?”
Hae-gang said. Mok-young’s gaze turned to Hae-gang again, and this time a wronged light flickered in his eyes. Look who was talking. He wondered if he himself had always been so weak to instinct. It was Go Hae-gang himself who was bewitching people, giving off a heady scent. But before Mok-young could protest, Hae-gang kissed his lips again, showering kisses with soft *smacks*, naturally moving past his mouth to his cheek, his jaw.
“Every night. Do you know… how hard it’s been for me?”
As he said it—well, Hae-gang’s hand gained strength, and Mok-young’s leather guard fell away helplessly, dropping to the floor. And Hae-gang at once buried his face in Mok-young’s nape, pulling him in tight with both arms.
Hae-gang’s words, his grievance, were quite sincere. After their wedding night he’d lain abed a whole day, and Mok-young had been so careful. Through their mating, Go Hae-gang’s body had become an ever more fiercely burning volcano, yet, oblivious to that burning, Dan Mok-young kept his distance even sharing a blanket in sleep—and Hae-gang sometimes felt he’d go mad.
Still, he’d thought himself a somewhat more patient sage. How could his wife not be adorable, trying to be careful on his own for his health’s sake? So he’d tried to play along a little, but the fire already set to the wick was beyond help, it seemed.
“Well, you’ll know from now on. I’ll tell you all about it, all night long.”
Hae-gang lifted his head and met Mok-young’s eyes as he spoke. In Go Hae-gang’s mind, the banquet, the crowds, the rudeness he’d committed against the emperor had all been wiped blank and white.
There was only his wife Dan Mok-young before his eyes, and his own passion that he had to tell him “all about.”
Before they even reached the bed, Mok-young’s clothes began to come undone, and by the time he collapsed onto it, he’d already lost his upper garments. All his well-dressed clothes had gone who knew where; with barely his lower garments clinging on, he looked all the more mortifying. Mok-young instinctively raised a hand to sweep across his chest, and at that single gesture Hae-gang felt a lust like his heart dropping.
Dan Mok-young was oblivious. Defenseless would be more apt. Having been all but shoved onto the bed, he was too flustered to mind his legs, sprawled however they fell—yet here he was sweeping his chest over the mere loss of his top. To his wife’s eyes, with his cock already standing stiff, unable to master his yang energy, how wanton must it look? He truly knew nothing—nothing of how he tormented Go Hae-gang and drove him mad.
There was nothing more to say. Hae-gang was already so heated he’d lost language, and his body moved before his mouth. Lunging at Dan Mok-young in one motion, Go Hae-gang grabbed his arm, turned him face-down, and seized the one remaining lower garment and yanked it down. At once Mok-young’s luscious buttocks were bared, and Mok-young, mortified and flustered, instinctively reached a hand back, tensing his buttocks and thighs.
Hae-gang’s hand, gripping his buttocks, met Dan Mok-young’s hand. He couldn’t quite catch it, groping as if missing several times, trying to grab it; he reached higher to grip Hae-gang’s shoulder and push him off, but Hae-gang didn’t budge. How could he budge, looking at his wife’s tightly shut yet twitching hole right before his eyes?
Mok-young, tensing by instinct, kept clenching his buttocks hard, making the hole throb on its own—but such circumstances didn’t matter to Hae-gang. No—he knew them. Which was why it looked all the more delicious. He could almost see how embarrassed and flustered his wife Dan Mok-young must be in this moment, and his heart leapt; Go Hae-gang unhesitatingly gripped his wife’s buttocks more firmly and buried his face between them.
“Th—that! W-wait, *haa*, wait a moment! Hae, Hae-gang…!”
When the soft lips and slick tongue touched that most secret, most sensitive place, Mok-young cried out in startled alarm, urgently calling Hae-gang. But it was too late. Hae-gang spread Mok-young’s buttocks wider, pressing his tongue deep as if burrowing into the hole, and that brazen sensation was already making Danmok’s insides slick and wet.
No—in the first place, following him here so meekly had been the problem. Even as he thought no one but he could take Go Hae-gang’s heat, why was it that in this instant he could not grow used to it? One night was hardly enough to grow used to such sensations—but that was why Mok-young was all the more at a loss.
“*Hngh—!*”
The moment he felt as though water were gushing out from inside, Mok-young buried his face in the bedding and held his breath. Faster than last time. His body was clearly becoming steeped in it faster. Tonight Hae-gang’s scent was excessively sweet, and everywhere his touch landed burned as if scalded—Mok-young’s body changed to match, frighteningly.
The mercy was that, all the more, there was no room to feel wronged or resentful. Hae-gang pressed his lips tighter to the hole where water had begun to seep, and at the thick play of his tongue, as if sucking honey oozing through a crack, Mok-young was busy covering his own mouth. The entrance, already slick and flushed red and sensitive, let not a single stimulus pass unheeded—wronged or not, it was all Mok-young could do not to collapse on the spot.
Mok-young’s body went flat on its stomach. His buttocks, conversely, rose high, and he himself didn’t realize what a sight he made. He was busy keeping his wits as Hae-gang’s touch plunged deep without warning, moving back and forth faster and faster, scraping his inner walls. And as Hae-gang’s other hand gripped Mok-young’s cock and stroked it, while his mouth bit and sucked the tender flesh of his perineum, Mok-young’s vision swam—he felt like simply letting go of his mind.
“*Ha… haa, haa…* wife, *hng*, th-there, *haa*… *huff!* *nngh*…!”
*I’m being buried in a mound of flowers. I feel I’ll suffocate on the flower scent.* Tonight his body opened all the more helplessly because of it, Mok-young thought. His whole body, steeped in Go Hae-gang’s scent from all sides, was as powerless as if he’d drunk deep of an aphrodisiac, heated and sensitive.
And so Danmok himself became the flower. Dripping honey, spreading his petals wide, blooming lusciously.
Mok-young lifted his head slightly and looked back. And in that instant Hae-gang lifted his head too. Having left teeth marks here and there above his perineum and buttocks, along with deep red traces, Hae-gang licked his saliva-slicked lips with his tongue and tilted his head, meeting Mok-young’s gaze.
Mok-young swallowed dryly without knowing it and reached a hand back without thinking. Had he wanted to touch? Or had he wanted to grab the hair of his wife, who shook him so infuriatingly?
Whatever it was, Mok-young’s hand never reached Hae-gang’s face, and the next moment the world turned over. At Hae-gang’s touch, Mok-young was turned onto his back. His back met the soft bedding, and just as his body seemed to sink in, Hae-gang’s face invaded his field of vision.
Hae-gang, settled between Mok-young’s legs, had already stripped off his own top as well. His body—pale and smooth, yet unmistakably firm—hardly looked like an invalid’s.
For all he looks so hale…
Mok-young raised his hand again, and this time his fingertips clearly reached Hae-gang. They pressed against Hae-gang’s chest, and as Hae-gang lowered himself, the hand slowly traced up his chest and gripped his shoulder. The firmness of the shoulder in his grip was beyond what most grown men could match. His naturally large frame, muscles honed by long training, were hard as boulders.
Where was the man about to die? Was he deceiving him, or was the strange working of fate deceiving him? Mok-young’s eyes went to Hae-gang’s face, anxiety and doubt and hot passion tangled and rippling in his gaze.
“…You may come in.”
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