Muttering as if to himself, he pulled at the flesh of my buttock to stretch the opening wider. At the same time, his penis—hot and hard like a thick iron rod heated in fire—pushed in another notch, cramming that big body deeper into me.
“Hah—hh, hhh, hn.”
My breath rolled inward and my belly drew tight as a drum. Under the pressure that felt like it was squashing his sex, his face twisted inside me. Seeing my movement link directly to his reaction—feeling how we were joined—was vivid and real.
“If we were going to do this while staying in the same place as the kids, you must have felt uneasy, right?”
“......”
I was looking at his face as he whispered it on a hot breath and—ah—let a dazed little sound slip out belatedly.
“Even if the rooms are separate, still... you know?”
With his face wet with sweat, he rounded his lower back and ground his hips, slick and heavy, and grinned.
I’d thought booking this hotel instead of the apartment he always used was an event for my sister and brother, but maybe not. Still, to think he’d planned a night like this with me from the start and reserved the hotel for it... that felt like too much of a leap. Probably half a joke.
While I interpreted it that way and settled on an answer, he blanketed me with his whole body and rubbed us together everywhere. The swell of his thick chest made it hard to breathe, and my sex was pressed to the sharply cut, dry ridges of his abs. Our legs tangled and bound each other.
I too stroked his wide back where large and small muscles flowed in waves, and touched him as much as I wanted, twisting my body to join in the obscene friction. As we lay naked and rubbed together, it felt like our skin melted, that not only below but our whole bodies were slickly mixed.
At first he didn’t try to push any deeper. With a halfway insertion he only rotated his hips in circles, widening the entrance. If anything he seemed more focused on kisses and caresses, on stroking my back and waist and butt and giving little pinches.
But soon the play stopped being play, and wherever he rubbed and pressed, a thick fragrance rose. Holding each other without a gap, he kept lifting his hips and letting them fall.
He withdrew, scraping my inner wall as if pulling all of me out with him, then twisted his hips side to side and pressed in slowly again. Not just pushing in, but pulling out and filling again, piston-like—the sound of my breath shook as if I were sobbing.
Even so, I didn’t close my eyes. We didn’t look away from each other; we watched every trace of penetration that crossed the other’s face, as if missing this moment would be foolish.
His hips moved with astonishing flexibility—sometimes drawing a big circle to rub the entrance, sometimes rippling from shoulders to rump in wave-like curves, sometimes staying neither in nor out and just trembling in fine, quick shivers.
Each time, unfamiliar pleasure writhed inside. It surged up hot and then receded; the spasm felt at once catchable and impossible to catch, twisting my hips.
I moaned in appeal and pulled his body tighter. I kneaded the stiff nape and shoulders, traced the bulging contours of his arm with my hand. Keeping my gaze locked to his, I curled the tip of my tongue to hook and rub against his.
His hips slid almost all the way out, leaving only the crown, then glided back in. My inner wall, which had cinched tight for a heartbeat, convulsed and opened again. The feeling of him rubbing over that tingling place as he passed made it seem like he gripped my throat and toyed with it.
“Hhh, hhh... hah. Nn.”
I wrapped his neck hard and buried my lips at the base, forgetting shame and inhaling him through my nose and mouth.
“Do you like my scent?”
Even his breath as he asked was uneven. I nodded my head furiously. He ducked deep as well and bit at my ear and neck.
“Yours... drives me mad.”
Keeping his upper body pressed tight to me while only his lower half jolted fast, he bit my lips.
“Where’s it coming from? Here?”
Panting as he sucked my lips, swollen as if they’d burst, he’d lost his reason as completely as I had. In his eyes—blue washed faintly pale—only the shine flashed.
“Or here?”
“Ha—ugh.”
As he gripped my shoulders and pulled down while at the same time thrusting his hips up, my eyes flew wide. It felt like the crown of him pressed down on my heart. His thatch brushed my groin. He was fully swallowed.
Before I could even trace the pressure filling me end to end, he withdrew at once. The distinctly shaped crown scraped past that tingling place. Then, picking up speed, he pressed hard and drove in.
“Ha—nn... th—that... there...”
Clutching his neck again and again, I bit and released my lips. The pleasure that lit a fire inside me, making my whole body cinch inward, contracted my limbs.
At the squeak of sticky fluid leaking where the gel already inside me tangled with the precum he must have left, I didn’t need to look to see the vivid picture of the thrusting below. Every circuit in my head flared and my thinking shut down.
“You said your thighs go numb when you look at my cock. Now we’re using that to have sex—so you like it... and that’s why you’re leaking scent here? Fuck, it’s here... it is, isn’t it?”
Each time he emphasized “here,” he rammed all the way in and ground hard; at the end he drove me as if he would break me. If I’d felt pain, you could have called it violent; he was that merciless.
But I wrapped my arms around his neck, spread my legs, and rocked my hips.
That I liked the sex. That the sex with him—newly discovered—made me crazy... that just his scent made my body ache and just seeing his sex made me frantic. That he was right about everything. That I wanted him to break me.
...I spilled things like that.
Not whispering secretly at his ear with my face hidden like last time.
I said those unbelievable things looking straight into his eyes—sucking his lips the way he did to me, tangling my tongue with his, twisting my hips to tease his sex.
“The scent I inhaled with my nose to his skin was like a drug.”
I’d been right. Last time and now, in bed with him, I was like someone dosed with a drug.
Showing a stranger my groin in a shameful pose, feeling heat at obscene whispers, getting aroused by pouring that kind of talk into his ear—my state, stripped completely from my usual self and given over to the thrills of sexual pleasure... matched the shallow, vague knowledge I had of how drugs work.
And it wasn’t only drugs; sex addiction exists too. I could guess why. The stimulus of a variation that breaks ordinary rhythm is the sharpest of all.
At the words I poured out—completely beyond the ordinary category I belonged to—his eyes surged savagely, and a deep, rough kiss clamped my mouth shut. Unlike the careful first entry, now that he’d confirmed my body was fully open, he didn’t hesitate.
As the thirst was quenched by rubbing again and again over my weak spots, the feeling of climax charged right up to the doorstep. To stimulate the sex trapped between our lower bellies, I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct and pulled him in tighter.
“Nnn—h, h. Hah!”
The next moment, spitting out his tongue that had been savagely plugging my throat, I thrashed under a pleasure so fierce it was frightening.
A sensation as if the penis I’d thought was already at maximum hardness suddenly swelled bigger, expanding as if to push my inner wall outward from inside, as if to seal the entrance completely.
It was knotting.
Even without experience, I knew by instinct.
My belly swelled and it felt like all my organs were pushed upward; even after I forced his tongue out, I still couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth wide and tried to draw in air, but I only choked like someone who’d forgotten how to breathe.
With a fine, electric sting through every vessel of my body, a pleasure that could smash and reshape my very existence thudded closer, booming inside me like ominous sound effects foreshadowing what was to come.
It was like a massive boulder repeatedly pounding my whole body—dull, and yet not dull—the kind of pleasure I’d never imagined in type or direction.
Spit leaked from the corner of my mouth; my blown pupils searched for him in fear.
Following the command of instinct—chasing the feeling of climax—he too, panting and raking around inside me, was completely gone.
The coercive thrusts and withdrawals of his sex, demanding to change my very being, were on a speed that drove me to the brink of climax, nothing like when he’d used fingers.
I struggled in the boiling pleasure of orgasm and tried to push at his shoulders, but he laced our fingers and pinned my hands to the sheet.
“Hhh—ugh, ngh—hah—nn! Uhh!”
As my occiput rubbed the sheet °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and I came, something like an explosion struck my belly at the same time.
An Alpha’s climax.
His semen, expelled with a battering force as if pummeling my guts, leaked out even though the knot filled me without a gap. With the feeling of my inner wall soaking and filling, I too spilled between our lower bellies pressed together.
My moan was close to a sob. No—maybe I really was sobbing. Even pinned hard under him, my whole body shook. I bit my lower lip and, sucking at him mindlessly, whispered that I was scared.
“It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Still moving his hips after he came to keep the pleasure going, he covered my face with kisses. He licked around my eyes with unusual care, and only then did I realize I was crying. It was a physiological response, not a feeling like sadness or loneliness, but even so, the moment I became aware of those tears, something swelled up inside me.
It’s okay. I’m right here—was he really saying that to me? His eyes still lacked focus, as if instinct had swallowed him, but strangely the words calmed me. I twined my fingers into his and squeezed hard.
Breathing what felt like fragrance thick enough to numb the nose instead of air, we kissed for a long time with our lower bodies joined. When the fear that had rushed in at the knotting finally thinned, he suddenly stopped everything.
Then he reached down and felt where we were joined.
He tried to pull out quickly, but still knotted, his penis clamped hard to the mucosa and wouldn’t let go. Or maybe I was the one not letting him go.
Whichever it was, I didn’t know; like cramming a size-10 finger into a size-7 ring, he couldn’t come out of me.
His eyes—languid, deconstructed, and floating in a pleasure depth I couldn’t fathom brought by an Alpha’s climax—returned to reality and trembled coldly.
To force himself free, he pried the entrance with his fingers.
Shamefully, even at the feel of that thick shaft that had filled me scraping my inner wall and working its way out with difficulty, I shivered and felt a chill run through me.
While he, like someone out of his mind, spread my legs and pushed his fingers in to scrape out the semen inside, his still not-yet-soft sex twitched, asking for another round of stimulation—but he didn’t seem to be thinking that far.
“I’m sorry... I’m really, really sorry.”
He repeated it over and over. Easily more than twenty times. For someone who seemed like he’d never be flustered no matter what the situation, his reaction—this shaken by knotting and climax with a Beta—was strange.
I caught his wrist—still oblivious that this cleanup was unnecessary—and slowly pushed myself up to sit.
I hadn’t completely come down from the afterglow of climax after a long foreplay, but seeing his reaction, it didn’t look like we’d be enjoying afterplay or stoking a second round of arousal.
“You’re an Alpha... right, Director?”
“......”
It was a redundant question, but since we’d never said it outright, I asked it anyway.
“I’m definitely a Beta. So... you don’t have to worry.”
“......”
“About pregnancy... I mean...”
He stared at me in silence for a long time with eyes that looked robbed of everything. Empty eyes, slack as if life’s shabby back side had just been revealed. For an instant the big, solid man felt endlessly powerless and fragile, like a boy... a clear sadness pooled in his eyes.
“Right... a Beta. You’re a Beta, Seo Ihyeon.”
He finally muttered. But he didn’t seem relieved. His eyes were still vacant and unfocused. It was like the heat we’d been drowning in just now had been a lie.
He took his hand from between my legs and rubbed his face several times with his palm.
“There’s probably... a tear inside. Since you’re a Beta, you wouldn’t have been able to handle the knot.”
He worried over my condition—asked if I felt any stinging like a cut or scrape, said we should go to the hospital right away if so—but for now all I felt below was a numb emptiness. And, though I couldn’t say it to him, the tingling after-pleasure was stronger. So much so that it felt like if he plugged that hollow place again I’d be more comfortable; contrary to his concern, I didn’t feel any particular pain.
To go from whispering obscene things at each other’s ears at the peak of the hottest climax to talking, in a blink, about practical issues—my body shrank and I felt dazed at the whiplash. But I couldn’t pull him close and say I was fine and we should just keep going—not when he looked stunned.
And once his sex slipped out of me, a drowsiness settled over me along with a wash of weakness, like my whole body sinking. I was drained, out of strength. The same symptoms as last time.
I told him that when tomorrow came and everything had settled, I’d tell him how my body felt. That for now there was nothing out of the ordinary. I said it hoping he’d be even a little reassured, but though he nodded, the seriousness didn’t leave his face.
