“The only value I feel I can give you through these words is that... I’ve never said them to anyone before.”
So, saying that his confession looked shabby before my love, he whispered into my ear in a voice so dry it seemed like it would crumble like a cookie crumb.
“I love you.”
It was small enough that only I could hear it. But if I heard it, that was enough.
After that low, husky whisper of love, our lips overlapped; and when our lips weren’t touching, he spoke of love. As if his lips existed only to kiss me and to say he loved me.
Up to now, even while sharing so many feelings and stories, we had subtly avoided direct expressions that defined our relationship—but he seemed to have decided he wouldn’t hold back anymore.
Even though he repeated it several times, the meaning of love that his lips let loose didn’t get lighter at all. If anything, each time he said the word, it felt like a piece of him was being cut away, as if he was speaking with the resolve for that level of sacrifice; his love flowed into me with weight, accumulating inside me.
Honestly, I had dismissed words as not very important if the feeling was already clear. And yet, paradoxically, because I knew how important they were, even as my heart was certain I hadn’t put it into words.
Maybe that too was one of the things that had made him uneasy—something I had kept in me and not given to him. Either way, I needed to put more into words on every front.
“Don’t... call it shabby.”
With our lips brushing, I stroked his cheek with my fingertips as I spoke. I could barely finish the sentence before my lips were swallowed. The surface of his lips was dry, but the mucosa behind and the flesh that pressed in were hot and wet.
The word love that he gave me seemed to seep into a rift that lay beyond the realm of romance—beyond sweetness and emotional fulfillment—into something more fundamental. Every time I heard his whisper, my chest swelled. I wanted him right now.
He opened his mouth, taking my upper lip and lower lip in turn and letting them go, then kissed along my cheek as his hand slid in the opposite direction, from my neck down to my chest. When the hand that had been feeling over my chest through my T-shirt pushed inside and stroked bare skin, I moaned and wrapped my arms around his head.
As he teased my ear with lips and tongue, his hand moved behind me, dove into my pants, and grabbed my ass. The way I lifted my body slightly—making space so his hand could move more easily, so he could touch me more easily—made me realize I’d gotten fairly used to this.
But that thought scattered as soon as his weight pushed me down onto the sofa.
Just the feel of his steady pressure—using that long body that looked sleek in clothes despite its solid heft—tilting my chin up and parting my lips made me gasp. Like fitting puzzle pieces, his mouth sealed over my open mouth.
His hand slipped between our lower bellies, and before I knew it he was undoing the buckle of my jeans. Even as he did, he kept moving his hips, pressing our joined lower bodies flush to work me.
“Uhh, mm... ahh.”
At the friction and heat of his movements, I groped for the armrest and gripped it tight.
After spreading the fly of my jeans wide open, he pushed my T-shirt up and licked up my bare skin with a hot tongue. When the T-shirt was bunched up to my armpits, he rolled my nipple with his thumb a few times, then teased upward with his tongue as if sweeping from below.
“Mm... ahh.”
At the stimulation of his tongue repeatedly laving the nipple, now bunched and protruding more than usual, my hips floated up. Watching my reaction with eyes half-lifted, he traced my exposed torso with his hand, moving down to my waist. Near my side, he caught my jeans and briefs together, and at the same time he sucked in even the flesh around the areola, hard into his mouth.
“Ah—hah! Hhmp.”
The hand that had been tearing at the sofa’s backrest clamped down on his shoulder, and still looking up at me, he scratched at the small bit of flesh in his mouth with the tip of his tongue. Only after I snapped my hips again and again and, instead of the sofa back, gripped his shoulder hard enough to hurt, did he pull off my nipple with a wet sound.
He yanked my already-lowered jeans and briefs—down far enough that my ass, pubic hair, and cock were more than half exposed—in one go, and I raised my legs toward the ceiling to help him strip them off. The jeans peeled off inside out and were dropped under the sofa; the white briefs I’d put on after my shower were in his hand.
“......”
He straightened, settled between my legs, and looked down at me through narrowed eyes. Then, with the underwear covering his nose and mouth, he stroked the inner sides of my thighs lying over his own and slowly ground his hips. It looked like he was smelling the briefs—and like he was kissing them.
The heat of him between my legs for the first time in a while, layered over the aftertaste of his confession, left me just staring up at him, breathing hard. Smack. He pecked the briefs with a kiss, then in one motion pulled off his black short-sleeve tee and tossed it aside together with the underwear.
Then he lay down, wedging himself into the small space between me and the sofa. I rolled onto my side to make room for him, and as he lay close behind me, he grabbed a cushion that had been rolling on the sofa and slid it under my head. He slipped an arm under my neck into the empty space, drew my chest back into a hold, kissed my nape, and nibbled my skin. His solid thigh pushed between my legs.
“Mmm... hnn, hm.”
My eyelids loosened and the strength went out of my body. I laid my hand over his hand rubbing my chest; when I looked back at him behind me, our mouths met. His upper lip pressed my lower lip down, then my fuller lower lip pushed up again. The kiss without tongue was nerve-fraying, edge-of-the-cliff teasing, but the thigh grinding between my legs and the hand shaking and hardening my cock were blatant.
He was wearing lounge pants cinched at the waist with a straight cord and band, and they were far too thin and soft to hide the volume of his penis hardening between the cleft of my ass.
“Seo Ihyeon....”
Just the voice calling my name while he brushed my ear rim with nose and lips made my body tremble. It really was a beautiful voice. Not exactly restful to hear, but that distinctive low scrape made such a striking accent that you couldn’t forget it. And like this, when in the middle of things he dropped the tone even lower and breathed wind into my ear as he whispered... especially then.
“I love you.”
When I heard that kind of confession carried on hot breath as his lips grazed the uneven, irregular curves of my ear... it was unspeakably sexier.
He reached over my side, gripped my cock, and stroked fast from bottom to top while pressing closer and closer. Half sprawled under him, almost on my stomach from being weighed down, I stroked his cheek.
“Ahh, ngh.”
I grabbed his wrist hard as he pinched, twisted, and tugged my nipple, then shoved my ass back to press myself closer to his penis.
After spreading his hand wide over my pubic hair, he slid his hand between his groin and my ass. His index and ring finger pried open either side of my anus, and his middle finger rubbed around the entrance as if exploring, then slipped into the tightly closed mucosa. I bit my lower lip and let out a sick-sounding moan. It wasn’t from pain.
“Haah— ngh. Ahh.”
Letting go of the wrist I was clinging to, I reached back and grabbed his ass. Through the thin fabric I could feel the compacted muscle bunch and squirm.
He didn’t rush, wasn’t rough—but right behind it he hid the surging brink of an explosion that felt about to blow. His long, straight finger probed inside, stirred, slid over the mucosa in ticklish strokes, then now and then mimed a thrust, jabbing inside at quick speed.
“Haa—hh, h. Ahh. K—”
Probably on purpose, every time he dug hard over the most sensitive place, I tipped my chin up, shut my eyes, and yanked his hips harder toward me.
“Already... the scent is really strong....”
At his savoring, heated tone, I opened my eyes and looked back. His lips, which had been kissing along my jawline, cheek, and ear, claimed my mouth the moment it parted with arousal and a moan. His lips weren’t dry anymore.
For him, saying the scent was strong seemed to mean the degree of arousal. If it meant that my reaction was faster than usual, it was true. But it was his scent that had soaked thick into the air of the entire living room, pressing down everything in the space, including me.
Inside me, with his finger curled to stimulate the sensitized mucosa, and at the tiny distance where our open mouths brushed, he looked at me with wet eyes and whispered.
“The scent that turns me... from Golden into Regular.”
A deep kiss followed immediately. Dizzy even while lying down, I reeled at the rapture of being the one who could tear down his defenses. I closed my eyes, opening myself completely to the scent that surged in with the kiss.
“......ngh.”
But the next moment, at a strange sensation detected inside my body, I reflexively grabbed his wrist. I turned my head and pushed out his tongue that was sweetly occupying my mouth, and looked down. Reined-in arousal denied its crest, he panted beside my ear and ignored my check, keeping his finger moving.
“W—wait... right now, I...”
With his body half over mine, almost completely on top of me as if mounted, he arched his whole body as though he’d already entered me and at the same time drove his finger as deep as it could go, as if to lift my ass.
“It’s not ‘wait’ at all... why should I stop.”
“Inside... it feels like something came out....”
“.......”
He paused for a second. But soon he was drilling faster than before and rubbing his whole body against me. The wet breath at my ear, soaking and nibbling, let arousal swamp my thoughts. His other hand slipped into my open mouth and touched the inner mucosa of my cheek, and I reflexively closed my lips and sucked that long finger.
“Cooper’s fluid flowed in, that’s all.”
“That’s not... mmph.”
I couldn’t finish because his finger slid out between my legs with a smooth, soft pull. Alternately pressing with his index and middle, the fingers stroking my tongue were so gentle and pliant it felt like they were waking every sense inside my mouth I hadn’t even known was there. Thought was no longer possible.
The hand that had withdrawn moved in obscene motions, rubbing between my legs as it went in and out. Everywhere his palm swept was slick-wet, and to remind me of it he twisted his palm to make lewd friction sounds on purpose while looking down.
“Look at this. You’ve leaked this much... like this, every time you twitch, of course some is going to seep inside...”
Instead of telling him not to look, I reached back, hooked his neck, and kissed him. At this point I wanted him deeper, closer, didn’t care how. «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» No matter how much I breathed his scent through our kiss, the thirst burning through my whole body wouldn’t ease.
He ground his cock hard against my ass, pressed even closer to me where his fingers had just left, and gave my lower lip a sweet, aching suck. Releasing that soft bit of flesh he’d been holding and pressing between his lips, he spoke in a voice secret-small.
“Shall we go to the bed.”
“......”
I nodded. Sitting up, he pulled me to straddle his thighs, facing him. Even while he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bedroom like that, his lips didn’t stop moving—from my mouth to my jawline, nape, shoulder—as if refusing to allow even the smallest cooling of arousal.
Kneeling on the bed with me banded around his waist, he fell forward with me onto the mattress. His blue eyes, right in front of my nose, stroked every corner of my face as his hand swept my hair back where it had sunk into the big pillows.
Not only his pupils, which called to mind a heaving sea, but everything about him—so striking that even a passing glance would never leave you—wasn’t flawless like a painting or sculpture so much as it radiated a mysterious air and presence all his own, leaving deep marks in the impression of anyone who took him in with their eyes... This beautiful man is the one I love, and who loves me—it felt new again, maybe because today was the first day we had allowed the word love between us.
While I stared at him as if spellbound, he kissed my nose and lips, then lifted his torso. The crotch of his black loungewear bulged unnaturally, and the space between the legs of the pants was stained a darker black, soaked by the copious Cooper’s fluid of a Golden alpha.
He quickly stripped off his bottoms and, with his penis only half erect—and even at that, exceeding many men’s maximum at full—he slid it over my balls and settled between my legs.
“Mm... mm....”
Just the feel of his cock touching bare flesh lifted my hips off the mattress. He ran his hands down my legs, gripped both ankles, and pushed them up toward my chest. My knees bent naturally, and the next moment they straightened again and my ankles hooked over his shoulders. Because of the position, his groin pressed even closer to my ass. The feel of his pubic hair rubbing between my cheeks made my breath more ragged. Caressing my thighs and calves, he arched my waist and gave lurid stimulation where we touched below.
“Haah, mm. Hup. H—hah.”
With our eyes locked on each other’s faces, our uneven, heaving breaths set up a tense, irregular rhythm.
When he planted a hand beside my shoulder and bent over, my lower body folded along with his movement. I cupped his approaching face and brushed back his sweat-wet hair. He bent his arms, lowered his chest, kissed me, then drew back and came close again; watching his face do that, I waited for his hot alpha sliding over my balls and cock to rub deeper places.
“Ah—ngh!”
I clutched the sheet and bit my lip, but what I felt from below as the glans pushed in was far from pain.
The thick, gleaming-wet head pushed in without hesitation through my inner wall, which in the few days we’d rested from sex had contracted back toward its original state. It wasn’t painful enough to call pain, but I could vividly feel the sensation of new healing flesh, knitting together into one, being forced open by a merciless external entry.
If I’m honest, that made it better. With the fulfillment of being slowly and unmistakably pierced and seared by a huge, boiling-hot something, I tipped my chin up and opened my mouth. His was always the kind that, like it rammed into my lungs and heart, cut off my breath and interfered with circulation. And with only the smallest breath and the faintest blood, it made me feel more alive than at any other time.
He watched each reaction I showed like he meant to devour it, lowered his torso, took my lower lip between his teeth, and fed in a sweet ache with lips and teeth—together with that rich, heady, filthy scent that numbed my head.
