He released the hair he had swept back as I drew near. The way it fluttered and slowly settled was beautiful.
“I don’t mind...”
“......”
He closed the door behind me, indicating reassurance.
Seated in the darkness facing me, he looked as though he feared my approach. As if that were possible.
I stepped to the edge of the bed and, as always, incense began to burn. This was it. It was for this scent—this intoxicating incense—that I had climbed blindly up to the second floor, craving to entwine with him in the dark. Laughing at myself, I acknowledged it plainly: I wanted to have sex.
He had said that sex with an Alpha could wound me—and here I was, crawling into his bedroom, desperate for it under the same roof.
Who was this person? It was me, yet I was grotesquely unfamiliar to myself.
My body moved on its own, as if someone else inhabited it. Yet, though strange, it was undeniably me.
I bent forward, pressing my face close to his bare shoulder. Because I loved him, of course I would love his scent. That scent had been the very first sign that set him apart from everyone else when Morae asked about him.
He reached out, brushing my cheek, and asked,
“Does it bother you—to have sex with an Alpha?”
“......”
Taken aback, I turned my head to meet his gaze, then slowly shook my head. His hand, still stroking my cheek, slipped behind my ear and traced its curve.
“As if you’ll change into someone else...”
If that had been the case, he would never have hesitated. I placed my hand over his large one and shook my head again, multiple times.
“I want to change. I want to become someone different.”
At my confession—my murmur of self-reproach—he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto the bed.
In the next moment I was lying prone between his legs. He pressed me onto his abdomen, one arm encircling my waist, the other pulling my hair back and covering my mouth with his. Our kiss was sweet and urgent, as if we were reuniting after years—but in fact we’d been together less than a week ago.
His kisses alternated fierce sucking and gentle nips, pulling my lips taut until they stung, then releasing with a pop. In that instant, I realized how often I’d replayed that kiss in my mind, even during my busy days cleaning up after gallery events, and how deeply I’d longed to experience it again.
This was different from that dizzying moment on the party terrace when I’d closed my eyes in surprise. The rise and surge of pleasure from his strong draw and ravenous rush, combined with the thrill that he was aroused by me, I felt it clearly—and I responded without hesitation.
I matched my breathing to the rise and fall of his broad, thick chest beneath me, while layers of his scent enveloped and consumed me. I silently yearned to be wholly swallowed.
Propped on a large pillow at the head of the bed, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, our lips barely brushing as he looked into my eyes from a distance so close I could hardly see.
“Me too.”
His breath carried the sharp tang of whiskey.
“I want to change too. Into someone completely different.”
It astonished me that even someone as admired as him could harbor such insecurities. He looked flawless to the world, yet he too feared his own vulnerability. And here I was, foolishly believing I could guide everything—even his heart—just by wanting it.
His hand slipped beneath my T-shirt to caress my bare waist, and I shuddered as he gripped the flesh of my hip through the thin cotton of the underwear I’d borrowed.
On his chest, between his legs, immersed in his scent, I was already changing.
“Will you... make me change?”
His strong arm tightened around my waist and his hot tongue suddenly invaded my mouth, silencing me. I stammered and mumbled as though strangled from behind, my throat convulsing.
His middle finger glided between my buttocks and rubbed forcefully, and in the same breath he whispered,
“Drive me insane right here.”
He thrust me up with the strength of his torso, continuing to rub my anus. The sensation of his long fingers slipping between my cheeks already evoked carnal thoughts. He was the one driving me mad. Me—who’d crawled into his bedroom—must be insane too.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as his request echoed through my unconscious, perhaps as an instinctive answer to his command.
He tilted his head further and kissed me. With his lips parted, the flesh steeped in his fragrance pressed deep into my mouth, his tongue probing like an insertion.
I loved the abandon of his kisses. If he had kissed me delicately, as if handling glass, I might have gone mad from impatience. Instead, he filled my mouth, as if to silence me, and made tears sting my eyes with their ferocious passion.
His supple, wet flesh—probing my palate, swirling along my tongue, scraping inside my teeth—served as proof of how ardently he desired me, and I surrendered to it.
His long legs entwined with mine, calves rubbing against calves, thighs squeezing me. He had no hesitation sliding between us and pressing our genitals together to create friction.
He gripped my full buttocks and pulled, twisting my hips on his chest. This was nothing like our first or second time—then I had needed time to accept desire. Now I wanted him faster, deeper.
I clung to his lips from inside my mouth; he bit my tongue sharply, his gaze intense as he pulled my lips around and around, pressing until my head tilted back, drawing me with a sucking pull that electrified me. I craved that stinging pain—it must have started the moment he’d last left my lips on Sunday.
When he released my lips, he pressed them gently together and murmured,
“I saw how swollen you were last time.”
“It’s fine,” I whispered, tracing his neck. He chuckled softly.
“If anyone saw us kissing all night, they’d know what we did. Does that bother you?”
“......”
Above us, lips met in low, sweet whispers, but below... behind me, his hand circled and teased my anus, sometimes gripping my buttocks as though he couldn’t stand it. I had no witty—or sexy—reply ready.
“Tell me. How do you want me to use these lips? What do you like?”
He rotated his hips in circles, his erection pressing against mine, and asked again. My cold core had melted, my breaths ragged with the heat blooming beneath me—no thoughts remained.
“Just... do what you do, Director.”
He frowned briefly, eyes narrowing.
“Who do you mean—Director?”
“...You, Director.”
He gripped my buttocks, pulling me down until our genitals pressed together, and bit my ear. Then he thrust upward in rapid succession as if he would penetrate me, and my body trembled in response. I couldn’t discern the cause of his sudden arousal.
“That way you called me in bed... it was the first time, wasn’t it? Both last time and this time, you omitted any address.”
Had I? I must have. In a moment like this, using any address would feel awkward.
“You find everything arousing, don’t you?”
He mumbled this to himself as he tugged my underwear and pants down with expert use of his knee and foot.
Hearing him deliberately call my name in this obscene context, I began to understand his excitement. Being acknowledged by name made it all the more intense.
He slid my remaining clothes lower with his legs until they pooled at my ankles. The emptiness below fueled my desire even more. Resigned, I murmured dirty words in his ear, as I’d done before.
His lips, warm and damp by my ear, bathed me in scent as I closed my eyes.
“...Kiss me.”
“What kind?”
He grabbed my hips from below, still pressing his pulses of flesh against mine, and asked.
“Like last time.”
He braced my thighs with both hands and tugged me back toward his face, and I clung to his neck as though fleeing upward. Cheeks touching, his ear near my lips. Then his mouth pressed against my ear, his pointed tongue slipping between us, cutting me off from the world.
“Bite me, suck me... hurt me.”
“Is that what you want?”
He teased me, pressing his lips against my cheek.
I always responded, helplessly honest, to his persistent demands. He drew out my truth, and with each admission I felt liberated from decorum—and my desire flared hotter. I could not deny it.
My body quivered in response to the surging flame of arousal. Each time my movement met his bulge, my testicles swung, and I bit his arm harder as pleasure coursed through me.
“Everyone will know you’ve been kissing all night,” he murmured. “Do you plan to wander around like that?”
“......”
“Why do you look so hot, Seo Ihyeon?”
He pronounced my name deliberately, one syllable at a time, teasing. I shook my head. I didn’t think being “hot” or so openly craving him was shameful—but perhaps part of me still clung to my former, indifferent self.
But this was happening because I wanted it. Every time my lips stung and swelled from his kisses, I longed for them to stay that way forever. I didn’t know if that made me sexy or obscene—but I wanted my lips swollen from his kisses.
He pressed his lips to my forehead, whispering softly,
“Look at me. I won’t kiss you unless you look.”
Below him, he continued to thrust against me. Though I’d demanded it, meeting his gaze was difficult. Ashamed, I lifted my head—and he seized my lower lip with his, pulling me into another fierce kiss, banishing my self-consciousness.
Each press of his lips and brush of his tongue deepened the scent that flooded me. The suction on my inner lips, as though extracting juice, mingled pain with racing excitement.
I loosened my arms from around him and traced his bare chest, twisting my hips and thighs. My underwear slipped free, leaving me in ridiculous half-undress, rubbing myself against his magnificent curves.
“Where next? What should I do?”
He held my buttocks, circling from outside in, gathering flesh at the center as he gazed at me with heated eyes.
I climbed upward along his length. He watched with a wicked smile, sliding his body back down to the pillow beside him.
Entwined, his head plunged into my T-shirt.
“Mmm...”
I bit my lip at the flick of his tongue over my nipple. Until now, I’d barely registered my own breasts—but the moment he touched them in this bed, they became as sensually charged as any other erogenous zone.
When his lips encased my erect nipple and pressed it warm inside his mouth, I could no longer suppress a moan. A tickling ache bloomed inside me, and I arched against his torso.
“Ah—!”
He sucked and flicked my nipple rapidly with his tongue, and I writhed. His hands slid from my buttocks into my T-shirt, tracing my waist and side.
Propped on one elbow, I barely held myself up, growing weaker under his deep ministrations.
When he bit the base of my nipple with his teeth, my chest collapsed onto his face. I tried to lift my torso, but his arm around my waist held me fast.
He ground his lips and cheeks against my breast, his tongue tracing dark trails over my skin with feral fervor.
I had no idea what about my slim chest drove him wild, but alternately scraping, licking, and sucking each nipple with equal devotion, he released a scorching lust in every breath.
“Uh—mmm...”
He drew my nipple in with lip pressure alone. Though I couldn’t see it, I imagined it jutting out sharply, and I trembled.
My body, transformed, its forms and purposes reshaped... If sex remained confined to polite discourse and clothed restraint, it would feel meaningless.
Instead, we kissed with lips meant for eating and speaking, we bared the buried flesh of my erection, we used a mouth on my anus that even our own world pretended didn’t exist, we sucked and excited the flesh of breasts that normally saw no attention...
In every act that overturned and remade me, I felt a liberation unlike any other.
Holding his head against my breast, I moaned as he slid lower to lavish my sensitive nipples with his tongue once more.
“Ah...”
I cast anxious eyes downward at him. Through the stretched neck of my T-shirt, he lay beyond my knees, his gaze fixed on my erection.
I grasped my hips to steady myself. He parted his lips and greedily inhaled between my legs. Shame and desire roared through me together.
Through my folded arms, I had a view of us: his face pressed beneath me, my legs raised. I could see him looking up at me, craving me as though nothing else in the world mattered.
My erection brushed the hem of my T-shirt, accentuating the obscene defilement of this moment—yet it was this same flesh he’d just explored with his mouth.
“Sit on my face,” he commanded.
I needed a moment to process. “That—”
His hand slipped between my buttocks from behind, then pressed and circled the soft flesh between my anus and scrotum, as if carving a new hole.
“Sit, and grind yourself down on me. Okay?”
“Uh—yes, but—”
“I want it. So it’s fine.”
I didn’t know how to accept his request—to press my face into another’s groin—but his lusting eyes and the gentle circling of his fingertips convinced me.
He nuzzled my flank with his nose, trailing his tongue along the crease.
“I want to smell you, taste you... bury myself in you here.”
His beseeching voice—feigned vulnerability, sweet entreaty—sent a thrill through me. His lustful gaze never wavered, and his fingers continued their stimulation. His palm drew gentle circles over my perineum, and I bucked my hips in response.
“Until you can’t breathe... crush yourself on me. Faster.”
I hesitated, then gripped the headboard and slowly lowered my hips into the darkness between us.
Truthfully, I’d felt the same wicked curiosity at his suggestion—and just imagining it sent shivers through me. It wasn’t a matter of refusal or consent, only timing.
His high nose touched my perineum first. A tingle beyond expectation jolted through me, gooseflesh rising. My body convulsed and I gasped.
“...Ah!”
With his nose pressing into my soft flesh, he pulled me down forcefully.
Straddling his face completely, I clutched the headboard, almost biting my own arm. He opened his mouth and inhaled me deeply, drunk on my scent. Shame and ecstasy battled inside me.
Through my arms, I glimpsed his eyes between my thighs, fixated on my erection. I couldn’t look away.
My T-shirt’s edge pressed against my heated flesh, emphasizing the filthy protestation of this act. Even the faintest movement set it trembling against his forehead.
The visual stimulation alone pushed me to my limit. I bit my arm tighter, exhaled sharply through my nose.
His hand slid along my outer thigh to the inner, gripping firmly. Fingertips brushed my pubic hair, tapped my testicles, sending vibrations through my shaft. My body shook, and I bit down harder.
Meanwhile, his broad tongue rubbed my perineum, and the soft bulge between testicles and anus grew drenched in his spit. Each time he pressed his pointed tongue deeper, a heavy pressure pulsed in my lower abdomen like the call of nature.
He revealed an endless world of pleasure. He knew my body better than I. I felt as though I might go insane.
“Stop... stop...”
I murmured, but absurdly, I reached down, clutching the [N O V E L I G H T] hem of my T-shirt to see his face beneath me.
His hand no longer pulled me down, yet I ground my hips against his face, guiding him—pressing where I wanted his tongue and nose, urging him to rub me there. Heat blossomed through my skin at every touch.
I feared I might lose myself in motion—though this was already beyond any boundary—yet I clung to restraint, barely.
I released the arm in my mouth and let my torso slump forward, my head dropping closer to his. In a half-lucid haze, saliva dripped from my lips, but I couldn’t muster the presence to wipe it away. Instead, I pressed my mouth against the fabric of my T-shirt, staining it with my kiss.
With slack muscles and unfocused eyes, I looked down at him and panted,
“Stop... please, stop... ah!”
But at my plea, he struck beneath my testicles. His biting and sucking of my arm’s flesh caused my hips to buck, hurling me against him.
This perfect, noble face beneath me—the one everyone admired—felt to me like a statement against all propriety. As if, through this defilement, I were rebelling against societal norms themselves.
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