SH | Prologue 1.1

The dim light of dawn was beginning to break. He could hear the quiet footsteps of the bodyguards guarding the annex. They must have heard his embarrassing moans night after night, and yet they always wore the same expressionless faces.

Except when Yoongong was around, the face of the bodyguard who was always near him kept flickering at the edge of his mind. Just thinking about what had happened with that man made his heart feel unsettled.

He moved carefully, trying not to wake Yoongong, who was sleeping beside him. He picked up the leg underpants that had been tossed nearby. It was truly awkward, trying to move by the faint dawn light in a pitch-dark room.

But no matter what happened, he had to get up. He could not stay wrapped in the arms of someone who was still sleeping without a care in the world.

“…Ugh!”

As he moved to put on the leg underpants, his stomach gave a dull, painful throb. A moment later, sticky seed trickled down his thigh. Embarrassment lasted only for an instant before excruciating pain hit.

The agony was so intense he could barely straighten his back, hammering at every joint and every inch of his spine. It felt as if his insides had been torn open and embers had been left burning inside. Sweat beaded at the searing pain.

Shaking violently, he bit down hard on his lip. With trembling hands, he reached for the clean cloth he had prepared in advance. He dipped it into the water he had set out earlier in one corner of the room and soaked it.

He worried the splashing water might wake the sleeping Yoongong, so he wrung it out as carefully as he could.

“Hng!”

He wiped from his neck downward across his upper body with the damp cloth. The lingering heat collided with the cold cloth, making his nerves stand on end. Frowning, he soaked the cloth again.

This time, he brought it carefully down to his legs and wiped away the sticky seed that had run down. He slowly moved the cloth toward the back entrance where the seed had leaked out.

“…Ahng, ah!”

The still-open back entrance brushed the tip of his fingers. Pain shot through him, sharp as if he had been torn open. A moan burst out of his throat on its own. The tender flesh inside felt raw and bruised.

He bit his lip hard and pushed the cloth farther inside.

Flutter.

As he stuffed the cloth in, the opening that had already been slightly ajar spread wider. Then the seed trapped inside spilled out. His face grew hot at the naked evidence of their sex.

“Hoo.”

It was too early for shame and embarrassment. He set those feelings aside in the dark dawn for now. He kept diligently wiping down the mess his sweat, fluids, and the seed he had spilled had left all over his body.

He picked up the leg underpants he had set down and slipped his legs back into them. He tied the waistband, then put on the underlayer. After that came the inner pants, then the outer underpants, one after another.

Then he brought the breast cover up over his nipples. The nipples that had been sucked, pinched, and bitten were swollen tight. The cherry-red swelling stung even when brushed lightly by a hand. He bit his lip and endured the pain. It took some effort, but he got the breast cover on and then put on his undershirt.

He moved back down to his lower half, pulled on the wide trousers over the outer underpants, and then slipped on the layered skirt.

“Hoo.”

Once he had finished dressing, a tired sigh escaped him. The reason the skirt hem looked so full was all because of these many layers of clothing. Once again, he found himself admiring women.

He straightened the persimmon-red skirt and indigo jacket, then tied the ribbons neatly. He combed through his disheveled hair with a fine-toothed comb. He arranged it into a neat topknot and pinned in a graceful jade hairpin.

The dim dawn light outside the door had already turned into brilliant morning sunshine. Yoongong, lying on the bedding, was still sleeping peacefully.

Gulp.

As he looked at the sleeping man, he swallowed dryly. His gaze drifted to the firm upper body visible beyond the quilt. It stopped on the long, lean arm stretched out over the mat as though it had been used as a pillow.

Those big hands and long fingers had groped and caressed him all night long. Just remembering it sent heat rushing into both cheeks.

“Why are you staring so fixedly at your sleeping husband?”

“…Ah, you weren’t asleep?”

A deep, low voice flowed out with a faint teasing lilt. The one who had been carefully dressing with every nerve focused on the task was truly startled.

“When my beautiful wife slipped out of my arms, how could I possibly stay asleep?”

As Yoongong slowly lifted his upper body, his hand naturally slipped beneath the skirt.

“Ah!”

Warm skin touched his bare foot, still without socks. Yoongong’s long fingers curled around his ankle like a chain. He pressed the hollow of the ankle with his fingertips, then groped farther inside the layered skirt. His hand moved languidly beneath the generous hem.

A big, hot hand slid up from the ankle to the calf. It lightly stroked the soft hollow behind the knee, then in an instant slipped into the wide trousers that still showed an opening at the back.

“Hng, hngh, w-wait.”

At those thin moans and pitiful pleas, Yoongong’s eyes grew hot.

“Tell me. Where were you trying to go so early?”

“Hahng, haa, I-I was g-going to prepare b-breakfast… Ah!”

The finger that pushed the leg underpants aside plunged in without hesitation. A shrill cry burst out when it stroked the swollen opening.

“Haa, to think you were having such a cute thought. My wife really was so proper.”

With long fingers, Yoongong slowly stirred inside Dongg’s wet hole. Heat seeped in through the gap beneath his fingernail. Each finger felt frighteningly hot, like warmth seeping into a room frozen stiff with cold. The heat that sharply dug into his frozen body pounded his heart until it melted. The pain-laced relief felt like kindling thrown into a blaze, the kind that only burned higher the more its own body was consumed.

At his own mad desire, Yoongong’s eyes curved softly. He wanted to endlessly savor Dongg’s body, a body that did not merely cross the line but made him want to throw the line away altogether. He wanted to bite into that supple flesh, burrow inside it, and fill it with himself.

Like caressing soft silk, like stroking the porcelain of a master potter, like dipping a brush in the ink stored in a precious inkstone bestowed by the king, Yoongong touched Dongg with a care that made him seem priceless.

The more Yoongong touched him, the more Dongg’s breathing grew precarious, like xuan paper soaking up ink. Just as carefully as if he were pressing a brush tip to write each character one by one, Yoongong’s fingers moved on, then stopped.

Tears welled in Dongg’s black eyes. The clear, transparent tears gleamed stickily, as if they had been made from desire instead of salt. Yoongong was reflected clearly in those tears.

“Mm, uhhn, chock, haa.”

The moment Yoongong parted his lips and slipped in his tongue, Dongg could only let out sticky, helpless moans. Under Yoongong’s touch, the hair he had carefully combed smooth lost its pin, and the tightly braided long hair fell down his back.

Before he knew it, the ribbons of the jacket had come undone and the undershirt had been pulled open. The breast cover, tied as tightly as possible, was stripped away by Yoongong’s hands.

“Ah, huh!”

The swollen nipple slipped neatly into Yoongong’s mouth. He bit down on it and worried it with his teeth while licking it with his tongue. Hot pleasure and a sharp sting hit at the same time.