Chapter 55

“I have never felt anything like this before. Even when yearning for you felt as though every blood vessel in my body would burst, it was never like this,” Yi-tan murmured, his voice trembling with heat. He pressed his lips directly over Myeong-joo’s, whispering against the seam without parting. “My thirst is unbearable.”

“…”

“Give yourself to me, Instructor,” Yi-tan pleaded in a hushed rasp.

Myeong-joo’s lips parted slightly, the ticklish friction against them becoming almost impossible to bear.

“If you do not permit it, I feel as though I will never reach the other side.”

“What do you mean by…?”

Offering no answer to Myeong-joo’s bewildered question, Yi-tan pulled him closer until he hauled him firmly onto his lap. When Myeong-joo moved to rise in flustered protest at the embarrassing posture, Yi-tan’s iron grip clamped down around his waist, arresting all movement.

“Please.”

The young man pressed his plea once more. Finding it utterly impossible to refuse, Myeong-joo gave a slow nod. Like an entranced traveler accepting the tempting offer of a fragrant, poisonous bloom, Myeong-joo surrendered his consent.

Recalling that first night at the hotel brought an involuntary, self-deprecating laugh to his mind. Back then, Myeong-joo had belatedly realized he had harbored subconscious expectations toward Yi-tan. Though he had feigned indifference on the surface, deep within his heart he had yearned for warmth in return.

Every one of those fragile hopes had shattered. Joining their bodies had unfolded entirely unlike anything in Myeong-joo’s imagination: intense physical pain, accompanied by a crushing sense of being ground down to dust. On that night, not a trace of his gentle, affectionate former cadet was to be found. And that was only natural—for Lee Yi-tan did not love Cha Myeong-joo. A vast chasm inevitably separated the fantasies of a man in unrequited love from stark reality.

Yet what did such petty personal emotions matter now? In comparison to the future of his younger siblings, they were completely worthless. For Yi-tan, this was his third lifetime; for Myeong-joo, this was his second chance, granted like an unearned gift. He had resolved to pour no more of himself into notions of romance or heartbreak, wishing only to live out whatever remained of his days without regret.

“Mmh…” A quiet whimper slipped from Myeong-joo’s throat.

The moment that heavy tongue parted his mouth, Myeong-joo squeezed his eyes shut. The slick intrusion still felt bizarre, yet it was by no means repulsive. He could sense Yi-tan pushing forward with far greater urgency than on that first wedding night, as though famished for harmonization.

Myeong-joo endeavored to release his energy as gradually as possible. Now that he knew the pain stemmed from a lack of exit conduits, he reasoned that regulating the flow might stave off the tearing agony. With every entanglement of their tongues, he carefully controlled the release.

Yet assuming Myeong-joo was neglecting the kiss out of distraction, Yi-tan gently pried his jaw open with his thumb. Belatedly reminded that they were actively kissing, Myeong-joo tilted his head to grant the young officer easier access. Inhaling deeply, Yi-tan delved deeper still.

Wet, slick sounds echoed between their sealed lips. Myeong-joo felt terribly self-conscious, but when Yi-tan’s hand moved without hesitation to knead his chest, a soft chuckle escaped him. Sensing the smile against his mouth, Yi-tan broke the kiss slightly, his heavy-lidded eyes hazy with desire, his tongue not yet fully retracted from Myeong-joo’s lips.

“Why… are you laughing…?” Yi-tan asked in a thick, sleep-heavy rasp.

Myeong-joo felt somewhat sheepish, scratching the back of his neck with a bashful grin. “Because it seems you held back for so long. You truly must have needed harmonization desperately.”

“…”

Yi-tan offered no answer, merely staring fixedly at him with his brow faintly furrowed. Deciding that waiting for an answer would only be foolish, Myeong-joo took the initiative and pressed his lips over Yi-tan’s once more so the young officer could receive more energy. Confirming that Hee-wan’s frantic search had indeed been driven by an urgent deficit, Yi-tan eagerly consumed each controlled wave of harmonization, craving more with insatiable hunger.

“Mmmh…”

His lips tingled pleasantly. Modulating the discharge seemed to have transformed the sharp pain into an irresistible, ticklish sensation. Pleased by the gentle sweep of Yi-tan’s tongue across his mouth, Myeong-joo subconsciously drew his body closer. Before embarking on this intimate exchange, both men had hurriedly washed with cold water to rinse off the grit accumulated from their ordeal, leaving Yi-tan’s solid frame delightfully cool and firm.

When Myeong-joo shivered slightly at the touch of cool flesh, Yi-tan muttered a low, gravelly curse under his breath. Wondering if something had displeased him, Myeong-joo attempted to pull back, only for Yi-tan’s hand to clasp his nape firmly, deepening the kiss. Stiffening the tip of his tongue, Yi-tan stroked firmly across the roof of Myeong-joo’s mouth, turning the ticklish outflow of harmonization into a throbbing, searing heat.

While Myeong-joo was still dazed by that overwhelming contact, Yi-tan reached down to cup Myeong-joo’s chest once more. Though hardly skeletal, Myeong-joo lacked any considerable flesh there, making him wonder why the young man insisted on fondling it. When Myeong-joo shifted his shoulders in self-conscious discomfort, Yi-tan squeezed harder, his broad palm flattening Myeong-joo’s sensitive nipple beneath his skin.

“Ngh—”

It was an instinctive sound born of surprise rather than true pain, yet Yi-tan did not release his hold. He pressed down firmly with the heel of his palm, grinding over the bud with increasing insistence. Flustered into immobility, Myeong-joo could only endure as Yi-tan caught the hardened nub between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching it teasingly.

“Ah, wait…” Myeong-joo protested, breaking the kiss.

A pained whimper slipped past his lips as he finally broke the seal. Staring blankly at Myeong-joo’s saliva-slicked lips, Yi-tan moved to descend for another kiss, but Myeong-joo turned his face away in flustered protest.

“Why on earth are you pinching my nipples? Nothing is going to come out of there.”

Even on their wedding night, Yi-tan had licked them relentlessly, causing Myeong-joo immense embarrassment. As an ordinary male, Myeong-joo could not fathom what Yi-tan expected to find, given that milk was an absolute impossibility.

“Really, Instructor… did you think I was kneading your chest expecting something to come out?” Yi-tan countered with an amused smirk.

A faint chuckle escaped the youth. Though his dilated pupils still held that strange, oily sheen, his tone had grown lightheartedly playful. Myeong-joo found the easy banter rather welcome; after all, since they were bound to share bodies for the foreseeable future, making heavy work of intimate harmonization seemed pointless.

“Who knows? I certainly have no idea, but I am merely curious why you keep fondling a grown man’s chest like this.”

“As for that…” Yi-tan began with a chuckle.

Yi-tan let out a low snicker, his shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. Lifting Myeong-joo by the hips with effortless strength, he hoisted him directly onto his muscular thighs. Feeling utterly ridiculous perched like a small child in his lap, Myeong-joo moved to scramble off, but Yi-tan’s arms banded tight around his waist.

Perturbed by his continued amusement, Myeong-joo grumbled, “What is the meaning of this posture?”

“I merely wish to show you what your former disciple was expecting,” Yi-tan replied smoothly.

From his slightly lower vantage point, Yi-tan looked up into Myeong-joo’s eyes. Clamping Myeong-joo’s upper arms securely against his ribs, he locked him in place. Before Myeong-joo could process the bizarre arrangement, Yi-tan pressed his cheek affectionately against Myeong-joo’s chest. The damp strands of his dark hair clung to Myeong-joo’s skin, feeling chilled and wet while sending an electric, ticklish tingle rippling through him.

“…Ah.”

He tried desperately to suppress the gasp, but the sound slipped out unbidden. Keeping his upward gaze fixed on Myeong-joo, Yi-tan extended his tongue and licked a slow, deliberate path along the curve of Myeong-joo’s pectoral muscle.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Myeong-joo stammered in shock.

Heat flooded Myeong-joo’s cheeks at the brazenly explicit touch. Offering no verbal reply, Yi-tan slid his tongue over the areola, lapping at the perimeter with rhythmic devotion. Trapped with his arms pinned to his sides, Myeong-joo could only squirm in acute sensitivity.

Meanwhile, Yi-tan pressed his tongue firmly over the erect bud, rubbing the taut nub that had hardened either from the cold or from stimulation. Throwing his head back with a trembling shiver, Myeong-joo gasped as Yi-tan closed his lips over the bud and began suckling like an infant at the breast.

“Mmh, hah…”

His arched neck involuntarily slumped forward as the intense sensation overwhelmed him. Enclosing the bud within his warm mouth, Yi-tan swept his tongue across the tip in frantic friction, driving Myeong-joo half-mad with overstimulation. How fortunate that Yi-tan had dismissed the guards from the tent perimeter; Myeong-joo would have died of shame if anyone outside had overheard the shameful sounds escaping his throat.

“Mmh, though nothing comes out…” Yi-tan murmured between wet licks. Even as he spoke as though tasting a delicacy, Yi-tan drew the hardened bud deeper into his mouth with a sharp suction. “It is delightfully pleasing to suck on. Truly a flavor I adore.”

He delivered the appraisal with earnest gravity, yet his own face was flushed every bit as crimson as Myeong-joo’s, radiating intense, breathless arousal. Why was Yi-tan looking so wildly turned on when Myeong-joo was the one enduring all the stimulation? That incongruity sent strange, hot tremors vibrating near the base of Myeong-joo’s spine.

“A flavor, good grief…” Myeong-joo muttered in flustered embarrassment.

Looking nearly on the verge of tears, Myeong-joo sputtered in dismay, yet Yi-tan had closed his eyes completely, utterly engrossed in suckling the swollen nipple. Because he lavished such shameless attention on that one side alone, the flesh throbbed with a mixture of raw stinging and intense pleasure. When Myeong-joo twisted his torso to escape the torment, Yi-tan nipped the tip with his front teeth in playful retribution, wringing a sharp squeak from his throat.

“It h-hurts.”

Blinking tear-bright eyes, Myeong-joo barely managed the plea, letting out a dazed whimper. This was their second encounter, yet he was behaving every bit as bewildered and uncoordinated as the first time. To be a grown man whining that something hurt was utterly pathetic.

As a mortified blush swept Myeong-joo’s face, Yi-tan finally released the captured bud. Glistening with saliva and swollen with pooled blood, the rosy peak resembled Myeong-in’s rouge.