I eased my chest away from his and carefully pushed back the lips and tongue that were suctioned to mine. Instead, tracing a gentle curve, I toyed with the T-shirt stretched over his swelling muscles and looked at him.
“Are you sure you’re not... actually sick? You barely ate. When your nose is stuffed, you lose your appetite...”
That was about the only reason I had to speak.
He quickly wiped away the twisted look he’d had and, with a lazy, teasing air, took both my upper and lower lip into his mouth and gave a light bite.
“What? If I’ve got a touch of a cold, you think I’d turn into some weakling who can’t even have sex?”
As if to say I’d stopped the kiss just to talk about something like that, he tugged me in by the waist and tried to kiss me again in a peevish tone.
“That’s not it...”
“Ah—come to think of it, I do feel kind of sick.”
“...”
Cutting across my words with exaggerated joking, he pinched the edge of the underwear between his index finger and thumb and slowly lifted it. In his hand the underwear looked several times more... indecent than it had in the box.
“If I see you wearing this, Seo Ihyeon, I think I’ll be cured on the spot.”
“...”
He was trying to brush off my question as a joke.
The underwear... I hadn’t planned to refuse anyway, so I would have put it on even without an excuse like that, but if he’d given a more convincing show of being sick, it would’ve been less awkward for me to play along.
He had no intention of helping me out, not when he was fluttering the underwear up and down above his own face and sending me a languid, half-lidded look through the lace.
Veiled by lace like a face covering, he pressed his cheek to mine. With that slightly rough-yet-smooth fabric between us, the rub of our skin sent my nerves bristling in an instant. Unlike cotton, this touch sparked tension.
The moment I reminded myself that this single scrap of fabric—made not to conceal and protect, but to display in the most provocative way—was underwear I was about to put on, heat mixed into my breathing with a curiosity and excitement I couldn’t pretend away. His breath as he rubbed his cheek to mine wasn’t much different.
“You’ll put it on, right? You said you were really grateful to me. Put this on and...”
The hot flick of his tongue at the rim of my ear made my shoulder twitch. He guided my hand between his legs and pressed down, slow and heavy, as he went on.
“If you rub it together with this...”
In a voice that sketched a blissful dream right in front of him, he whispered with a sweet sigh:
“I wonder how that would feel.”
What I felt in my palm was already swelling—bulging and warm. Feeling the heat and volume of his penis directly in my hand, something inside me lurched again. I had to bite my lower lip with my upper teeth more than once.
“Mm, am I the only one curious...”
“...”
At his discouraged tone, I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and shook my head.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m not trying to dress you in this and tease you... I want to see you look sexier... to see you tempt me, filthy and hot... That’s all. Okay?”
At the voice that kissed my hair while gently stroking the back of my head, I nodded this time.
He weighed it for a long time, looking back and forth between me and the underwear, saying that while the voyeur’s pleasure of savoring every step of the change was good, it was hard to give up the shock of meeting the finished look right away without seeing the process.
“Since it’s the first time, asking you to show me everything would be a little... barbaric, right?”
Looking at his earnest profile as he spoke—like he was choosing the latter out of consideration for me—I couldn’t help a snort of laughter. It seemed even he felt sheepish calling anything “barbaric” after handing me underwear like this; the ends of his eyes curved with a shy light as he looked at me.
“I won’t look. Since it’s the first time.”
He emphasized “since it’s the first time,” as if to nail down ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the second and third in advance, and willingly turned his back. Hunched forward, covering his eyes with a hand, his big back radiated a nearly childlike anticipation.
Could I really look sexy or filthy like he hoped... I wasn’t confident at all, so with slow, clumsy movements I eased down my pajama pants—and heard a little snickering laugh. He raised a hand over his shoulder and said:
“Ah, it’s just that I like the sound of clothes coming off, so don’t mind my reaction.”
With him showing that kind of anticipation, how could I not mind... I let out a silent sigh so he wouldn’t notice.
I folded the pajama pants and briefs and set them on the table, then stepped into the underwear whose side strings, joining front and back, were tied in ribbons. It must have been a fairly high-end piece; the lace wasn’t rough or stiff. Even so, the faint rasp particular to lace, brushing up my legs, gave me a strange feeling.
When the fabric touched my genitals, an “ugh...” wanted to escape on its own; I stifled the sound and hunched my shoulders.
No matter how hard I tugged the edges of the fabric, the front barely managed to cover my genitals and couldn’t hide most of my pubic hair, and the back, no wider than the front, burrowed into the cleft of my buttocks—covering almost nothing except for the thin string that sat precariously at the waistline where my rear began.
I lifted my T-shirt just enough to check the situation below, and felt I might end up grateful he hadn’t turned all the lights on bright.
Hoo...
I hadn’t meant to make a sound, so my own sigh startled me; I opened my eyes wide and fixed my gaze on his back.
“Are you all dressed?”
“...”
I was dressed, but if the question meant, Are you ready to show me, then no.
Though I’d somehow managed to cover things, I tugged the hem of the T-shirt down and muttered in a shrinking voice about the testicles that felt like they might pop free if I moved even a little.
“Uh... it’s really small and... and, something... it doesn’t cover everything, so... you might be disappointed...”
Before my rambling excuse even ended, he turned on the bench to face me.
“Mm... and what is that?”
As if displeased, his narrowed, puzzled eyes pointed at the T-shirt hem drawn down over my thighs.
“Uh... this is...”
He gently circled both my wrists and set them straight at my sides, tight against the outer thighs, like I was standing at attention.
“...”
He fixed his gaze on the mound of penis and testicles showing through beneath the taut, swollen lace, and said nothing for a moment.
“Hff...”
He bent and pressed his nose to the lace, breathing in deeply; my shoulders twisted, but he didn’t release my wrists.
“I think you’ve got the meaning of ‘disappointed’... completely wrong.”
The murmured tilt of his head sounded more like talking to himself than to me. After a thorough inspection between my legs from multiple angles under the T-shirt, he took one ribbon end between his fingers and made a show of tugging it while looking up at me.
“...”
The slender string looked perilous, like it would come undone with the slightest slip. As he fingered the end, I could read the slow-building arousal in his eyes as they lost focus looking up at me.
As if to hint he could yank it any second, he gave the tail of the string a little pull and let it drop—then silently took off his shirt.
Just watching him undress made my penis twitch inside the underwear. Maybe because for the past week our touching had stopped at petting, my body was quicker and more sensitive than usual today.
Bare-chested, he kept hold of my wrists and pulled me close. When I stepped between his spread knees, the bench’s low height brought his lips right to my genitals. My eyes slid shut at the warmth and dampness that wrapped the skin.
Twisting his jaw, he parted his lips and took me in as if kissing.
“Hhh, mm...”
His slow friction, without any rush, melted over the most sensitive skin. Looking down, I saw him angling his face this way and that, using tongue and lips to the full as he traced the shaft through the lace... it almost felt like watching a kiss between him and someone else.
Hmmmm... haa...
With his face buried to the lace, the deep inhale and exhale of his hot breath wet my penis. That proud bridge of his nose and those sensual lips pressed steadily through the single layer of lace, then slowly twisted, rubbing his whole face wide over the shaft as it began to harden.
“Huuh, hm. Hnh...”
As the caress deepened, my knees knit together and my upper body folded. I wrenched my wrists free from his grip and clawed at my T-shirt like someone with pain in their chest.
His empty hand swept my bare leg from the ankle upward.
“Haah, nn... hhh...”
Balancing one foot on the other’s arch, I rocked my heels. I couldn’t straighten my bent back. I braced a hand on his shoulder and ran my fingertips over that smooth, healthy skin.
The hand that had been gently tickling up and down the backs of my thighs gave the bare lower curve of my butt a light shake; the flesh of my backside shivered, and at the same time his hot tongue stroked thickly up the bulge through the lace.
“Haa-ahh. Hnh, huh...”
I understood why people mostly have sex lying down. As if the core of my body had come undone, my waist kept folding in; the stiffer my penis stood, the more my knees lost strength, my legs wobbling again and again.
“I’ll let you sit in a second. Before that... will you show me the back, too?”
The voice that asked for it was husky and clamped down, the sound of him trying to cage and control his arousal. Using the push of my hand on his shoulder, I straightened my back, gripped my T-shirt, and slowly turned around.
“Ha, I’m going insane. Disappointed? Disappointed?”
“Hh—mph!”
At the same time as that muttered “I’m going insane,” his face wedged into my butt without warning, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth.
“Uu...”
Gripping my hips, he fitted that hard nose bridge into the cleft and raked up and down with his whole face. I bit my lower lip as I pictured how, aside from the thin string perched precariously at the waistline where my rear began, nothing at all covered my skin—the lace back had slipped into the cleft between my cheeks, leaving me nearly bare.
“Mm... mmm. Mmm...”
When the wet mass of flesh pressed over the dimpled center of the anus through the thin lace, the moans leaked out past the hand clamped over my mouth.
“You’re not very interested in yourself, are you?”
He spoke in a quick tone soaked with arousal. It was a sudden question. Not the kind you ask while spreading someone’s butt with both hands and spitting on it in concentration.
Clutching my T-shirt at the chest, I turned my head and looked down at him.
“...”
“Your emotions, your body... your own drawings... you probably don’t really know them.”
Was that what he felt after seeing my sketch? The sensation was like dropping straight from a height, and my legs buckled, but he held my hips.
Gnawing my ass with his teeth, he rolled his eyes up to look at me.
“That, depending on the case... can be really... cruel, you know?”
Then he sucked, hard enough to make wet, popping sounds.
“Uht!”
Suddenly my body yanked backward and my balance broke; the next moment I was dropped onto his thigh. The veins stood up along his upper arms as both of them locked my waist tight like a binding. Pressing his nose and mouth into my nape, he inhaled my scent like a madman. Between bouts, as if summoning patience, he bit at patches of flesh through my T-shirt. Hnnn, haa, hnnn, haa. With quick deep breaths again and again, he was like a trained dog seeking the source of a remembered smell.
“You sway around right in front of me... with your whole body seducing me, saying you want to have sex with me... and you don’t even know it yourself. That’s not cruel?”
He bit my nape, as if aggrieved.
I didn’t know when my training pants and underwear had been dragged down to my ankles with my penis out, but I felt the hard shaft prodding beneath my rear.
With quick yet precise hands, he slid a hand inside my inner thigh and opened my legs wide. Looking down at what was comfortably spread with his thigh as a prop, I saw the head of his glans gleaming below my twitching penis through the black lace. As my legs spread, my testicles were half popped out of the lace.
“Huu... hnn!”
His hand dug into my inner thigh and touched between my legs, and I jolted on his knee like someone burned. His large hands, cupped in a hollow, rubbed from deep underneath all the way up over the shaft, again and again, like wiping and polishing. The feel of being rubbed with that faintly rough lace between us was utterly unfamiliar.
He lifted his hand to my chest, stretched his neck over my shoulder, and licked his palm, then smelled it. Deliberately, in my line of sight. As if to make sure I knew.
