Chapter 57

“Ah, ah…!”

Blinded by bursting stars, Myeong-joo rocked helplessly, unable to tell whether his eyelids were open or shut. He did not even register the saliva pooling and dribbling from the slack corner of his parted mouth. He was violently tossed, ruthlessly impaled.

“Ngh, ugh, ah!”

Shocked cries tore from him unbidden as sensations flared in wild, erratic spikes. His white-knuckled grip on the rough wool of the cot blanket strained with enough force to blanch his skin, but against the punishing thrusts slamming into him from behind, it was pitifully futile; every screeching groan of the shifting cot sent him pitching helplessly forward.

“Ah, ahh, Instructor…”

A deep, gravelly groan scraped past Yi-tan’s lips as his hips snapped forward in a relentless rhythm. Head thrown back, his entire being was consumed with driving his pelvis deeper still. He seemed completely oblivious to how Myeong-joo’s buttocks were bruised crimson from the savage collisions against his own taut thighs and lower abdomen.

“Ngh, hah… I wanted this so badly,” Yi-tan confessed in a gravelly rasp, “my entire length was aching right to the root… you have no idea how long I held back, ah… I couldn’t stand it… wanting so desperately to bury myself inside you…”

He was utterly consumed with ravaging Myeong-joo, possessed by driving into the depths, forcing the blunt head inside to displace the camellia oil and slick fluid pooled within, desperate only to empty his own seed fresh into that cavernous heat.

Had Myeong-joo retained his wits, he surely would have perceived all of it. But Cha Myeong-joo, bucking beneath him, was just as far removed from sanity.

“Wait, this… this wasn’t supposed to… ngh, ah, ugh!”

His mind spun in a haze of bewilderment. Surely it had never been like this before. What he had endured the first time was entirely different. Back then, there had been a sweet, almost childish ache akin to the verses of poetry Myeong-in so often recited. Unspeakable sensations had taken hold of him then, of course, but today was fundamentally, undeniably distinct. Today was far more brutal.

“Ugh, ahh, ah!”

The wet, squelching friction reverberated through Myeong-joo’s core. Hearing with his own ears the squelch of something buried deep within him, rutting in and out, brought an uncanny, alien sensation. Though this was his second time, the sheer disparity from the first rendered it completely unrecognizable.

Yet contrary to Myeong-joo’s conflicted heart, his harmonization—as if eagerly welcoming the Aberrant driving into him—gushed forth like water breaching a dike. Yi-tan greedily drank in the deluge as it overflowed without restraint.

As though having yearned only for such an insatiable drought, the accumulated harmonization incessantly enveloped the inner walls where Yi-tan’s cock made contact, surging outward as if bailed out in buckets. Even that energetic drainage was a piercing stimulation. Stripped of all poise, Myeong-joo pulled his knees together and twisted his shuddering frame in violent tremors. He had no leeway to wonder what the fluids dripping to the floor or trailing down his thighs actually were. He was simply shaken to his very foundation.

“Ah, haah, ngh… Instructor, ah…”

Yi-tan’s voice was drenched in such rapturous ecstasy that it sounded almost chilling. Goosebumps prickled every time the sound brushed Myeong-joo’s ear. With his upper body pinned flat against the cot, impaled from behind like a beast, Myeong-joo reached one hand backward to push him away with every jarring plunge. Yet no matter how fiercely he pressed until his fingertips blanched against that iron-hard abdomen, the man gouging his inner walls with relentless strokes would not withdraw an inch.

Each time the swollen coronal ridge dragged outward, the hypersensitive apex deep within—erect without an ounce of decorum—was scraped with ruthless abandon. At times, Yi-tan even ground the groove of his glans directly against that spot, rocking back and forth like a slow, deliberate plow. Whenever he did, Myeong-joo could not even muster a moan, his jaw hanging slack as saliva trailed down his chin.

At intervals, with a faint trickling sound, something spilled from him. Reaching a trembling hand down in front to touch himself, he found the tip of his cock thoroughly soaked. He could no longer tell whether the slickness coating his fingers was semen or something else entirely. As his arousal mounted toward a fever pitch, an overwhelming despair crept in—only for Yi-tan to brush Myeong-joo’s hand aside and wrap his own fingers around his length instead.

“Hah!”

As his tip was seized, Myeong-joo’s head snapped back on a sharp intake of breath. The man who had been ruthlessly crushing his gasping spouse suddenly showed a sliver of mercy, stroking the twitching slit of the urethra with his thumb. The deliberate circular rub of those calloused whorls made Myeong-joo’s hips heave violently. Onto that shuddering nape, Yi-tan pressed his fevered lips.

“Ahh, it feels so incredible,” Yi-tan whispered against his neck. “Instructor… ah…”

Even while milking the cock in his hand and rutting mercilessly into his depths, his voice remained astonishingly sweet and tender. He scattered countless kisses over Myeong-joo’s temple, lightly licked his earlobe, and panted against his skin. The ragged moans and harsh breaths storming into Myeong-joo’s ear sent cold shivers cascading down his spine, prickling anew the moment they began to subside.

“Stop, ah, sto-op…” Myeong-joo pleaded faintly.

“Hmm? Stop?”

Yi-tan echoed Myeong-joo’s plea in a dazed murmur. Grasping Myeong-joo’s pelvis with bruising force, he drew back until barely the tip remained inside, then drove his entire length home in one brutal plunge. The thick middle shaft crushed the apex with merciless precision, battering the inside that had foolishly let down its guard once the head had cleared.

“Ah, ahh!”

Myeong-joo wailed like a man driven mad, his hips bucking helplessly against the onslaught.

Hauling his partner upright, Yi-tan locked him in an embrace from behind and continued slamming his hips into him. Lifted almost entirely off the cot, Myeong-joo’s cock slapped wetly against Yi-tan’s abdomen with every thrust, spurting transparent drops into the air. Straining on his tiptoes due to their height difference, the sudden tension in Myeong-joo’s lower body caused his inner walls to clamp down into an involuntary, suffocating grip.

At that reflexive clamping, Yi-tan let out an animalistic growl and suckled his earlobe. The harsh rasp of his breathing, the slide of his tongue over the shell of the ear, and the stiff tip boring into the canal assaulted Myeong-joo all at once. They were sounds he had never once imagined Yi-tan would whisper to him in his lifetime.

“Ngh, ugh, ah…!”

A stifled whimper followed in the wake of the onslaught. It was agony, and he desperately wanted to flee, yet finding no escape route left him entirely helpless. The protest that this was too cruel could not form into words; even when he slapped Yi-tan’s thigh repeatedly with the flat of his palm, the man driving his hips like a rutting stallion never paused for even an instant.

“W-wait. Something… something feels wrong with me…” Myeong-joo pleaded.

He tried frantically to pry away the hand clamped over his chest, but Yi-tan was unyielding as stone. The force of the pounding shoved his body so violently that nausea churned in his gut. Resentment flared toward the man who refused to heed his words.

When he finally tried to pitch forward in an escape attempt, Yi-tan pressed his lips to his ear once more, murmuring in breathless agony: “I cannot, Instructor. Ever since our wedding night, this was the only thing I lived for… ah, it feels so good, ugh…”

The raw, unvarnished words dissolved into the air, never truly reaching Myeong-joo’s awareness. Unaware of that, Yi-tan continued his breathless murmur.

“Why does this feel so wonderful… did we do this in our past life too? Did we? Haah…”

“Ngh, ugh, ah… ahh…”

“Me… was it only ever me?” Yi-tan asked softly. “Tell me, Instructor, please say something.”

Myeong-joo’s eyes had rolled back until practically only the whites showed beneath his half-lidded gaze. Lost so completely in the throes of sensation that all reason had evaporated, he could hardly comprehend Yi-tan’s desperate question.

Yi-tan smoothed a hand over Myeong-joo’s lower abdomen. A palm calloused from gripping rifles and reins rubbed across his belly, turning even that touch into unbearable stimulation. Myeong-joo writhed weakly, fluid sputtering from the tip of his cock. Clear droplets splattered onto the straw matting covering the tent floor. Some merged into miniature streams, stretching into glistening silver threads as the fluid thickened.

“Was it only me? Was I the only one who ever reached this place?”

“Ngh, ugh, ahh, mmh…”

“Answer me, Instructor,” Yi-tan pleaded in a breathless rasp. “Only your Yi-tan… reached here… yes? Is that true? Ngh…”

Naturally, Myeong-joo was incapable of answering. Like a broken stream, fluid spilled from him in an unbroken trickle. As the pearlescent release flowed continuously down his thighs, his legs trembled violently without mercy. Though both his dangling feet strained downward, desperate to find purchase on the ground, not even the tips of his big toes brushed the floor. In the crushing ecstasy of release, his inner walls clamped down in a vice-like grip around Yi-tan’s length.

“Ah, I want to stay buried inside you all day,” Yi-tan murmured in breathless agony. “I never want to pull out…”

With those final words, Yi-tan reached his own release. Pulsing spurts of hot seed struck directly against the sensitive apex within, an ardent, torrential flood. Myeong-joo shook his head frantically from side to side, desperate to deny the overwhelming crest of ecstasy overtaking his senses.

“Haa, Instructor…” Yi-tan whispered softly.

Burying his forehead against the back of Myeong-joo’s neck, Yi-tan nuzzled into his skin. Even then, he was still spilling into him. Having shuddered until the very last droplet pooled at his tip had splattered away, Myeong-joo finally sagged limp in his hold. Against the softening inner walls, Yi-tan’s glans gave another deep, rolling grind. As though relishing the slick friction within, he executed several hasty, greedy thrusts that seemed to churn the fluid pooled inside.

Before long, his shaft hardened once more—regaining its full rigidity as cleanly as if he had never spent himself, despite having thoroughly painted the interior.

Myeong-joo slapped his thigh once more in weak resentment. Coated in slick fluids and drenched in sweat, the young officer’s thigh was slippery to the touch. Inside the tent, the suffocating heat made them completely forget the freezing chill of Mount Gaema.

Before long, the field cot began to creak rhythmically once more. The smothered whimpers escaping from within grew increasingly fevered.

Outside the tent, sentries stood up to usher Aberrants with sharp hearing further into the perimeter. Some recalled the Harmonizer’s clean, refined, yet slightly pale countenance as he walked through the camp, experiencing the uncomfortable embarrassment of heat stirring between their legs. Yet, whatever their fleeting thoughts, that Harmonizer belonged solely to Lee Yi-tan; in this biting cold, they could only console their restless desires by stepping aside to relieve themselves into the snow.

***