Chapter 96
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: A Brief Rest (5)
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"Haaah... Hngh."
"Ngh, hnnght."
Mori Yoshinari's excited breaths mingled with Il-yeong's low groans.
No matter how much she claimed she'd never been with anyone before him, she still possessed basic 'common sense.' For instance, the fact that a man would tire out somewhat after ejaculating once.
"Haaang...! You're insane...!"
Yet for some inexplicable reason, Il-yeong showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever. Proof of that? Even now, as these thoughts raced through her mind, he was still ravishing her.
―Squish, splurt.
Mori Yoshinari's body trembled with each thrust from Il-yeong's hips—not faster than before, but each one laced with waves of pleasure. She lowered her gaze, and there it was: Il-yeong greedily swallowing her breast, a long, sticky strand of clear saliva trailing from it.
―Slurp.
His mouth working over the tip of her enormous breast—which was far too grand to call merely a 'peak'—was utterly lascivious, yet somehow endearing, drawing a faint smile from her lips.
Smoothly.
She gently ran her fingers through his black hair. He was like a spoiled child suckling at his mother's breast, so fixated on it. And yet, he was a man of far greater build than her, one who could only be described as reliably sturdy.
'Thank goodness.'
Before meeting him, she'd seen no merits to her massive chest.
...Which was only natural.
This was an age of chaos, but there were always those who looked down on women warriors wherever she went. To them, Mori Yoshinari's ample bosom was often reduced to nothing more than a loathsome 'target for violation'—worse than any enemy.
Even without such extremes, daily life was just as inconvenient. Carrying around breasts the size of a man's head meant bearing that much extra weight constantly.
She'd often wished her chest were smaller.
'Not anymore.'
Mori Yoshinari, having forgotten even to move her hips, gazed down at Il-yeong as he endlessly fondled her breast—contentedly, lovingly—and whispered.
"Does it taste good?"
She'd slipped into polite speech without realizing it, and neither she nor Il-yeong noticed.
―Crunch.
In response to her question, Il-yeong lightly bit down on the hardened nipple he'd been rolling in his mouth.
"Hngh—!"
Her hypersensitive nipple sent shivers through Mori Yoshinari's body, and she pulled his head close, embracing it.
In sync with her motion.
Il-yeong buried his face deep between her long cleavage and inhaled deeply—snuuuurf.
The scent of her flesh flooded his lungs.
Warm like flower petals... no, sweeter and more intoxicating. Even mingled with a hint of sweat, it was an alluring aroma, not foul.
Il-yeong's cheeks pressed into her soft flesh.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if suffocating like this would be a happy death—then chuckled softly and lifted his head.
"...Hngh."
Mori Yoshinari's flushed face came into view, her breaths ragged with arousal.
―Snap.
A thin strand of saliva stretched from her nipple to his lips, smearing across his chin. She raised a hand as if to wipe it away, but—
―Thrust!
"Haaang!"
In that instant, Il-yeong's hips surged upward powerfully, piercing straight to her womb. Mori Yoshinari collapsed, her massive breasts jiggling wildly.
"Haaaah... Il... ♡"
As if she'd never found him adorable, she buried her nose near his crown and bit her lip to stifle her moans. He etched the sight into his mind like a work of art, thrusting rapidly into her hips as they raced toward climax together.
Squish, squelch...
The lewd, lascivious sounds of flesh and slick saliva meeting filled the air. They drowned each other's moans, sharing heated gazes—then Il-yeong's chin tilted up as Mori Yoshinari's dropped down.
―Mmwah.
Il-yeong met her lips eagerly, like a mother bird feeding her chick. His tongue grazed her teeth softly before tangling with hers, slick with saliva and precum, exchanging fluids.
Sweet.
Occasionally parched.
They quenched that thirst anew with each other's breaths and saliva.
This time, Mori Yoshinari lay back on the tatami mat, and Il-yeong—mirroring her earlier position—straddled her, shaking his hips atop her and gradually picking up speed.
"Hnnngaaaah... Haaaah...!"
As if his earlier restraint had merely been for catching his breath, he charged toward climax once more.
But then.
Il-yeong noticed the moans from below fading. Puzzled, he glanced down to find Mori Yoshinari staring up at him with dazed eyes—more pained than vacant—her gray irises fixed on him.
Why the sudden change?
As he parted his swollen lips to ask, flustered—
"...".
Mori Yoshinari raised their clasped hand, now faintly red, and gently caressed his lower abdomen. Her delicate fingers brushed over a rough scar.
Her touch traveled from his belly to his chest and flanks, then to his arms and collarbone.
"...You've got so many more scars now."
Her voice was still thick with pleasure, but laced with bitterness, guilt, and sorrow.
"You could've rested a little."
She knew it wasn't possible, yet she had to say it. Even if the deeds were necessary, not all these wounds had been.
Only then did Il-yeong realize he was positioned directly under the moonlight streaming straight down. He gave a wry smile.
It wasn't disappointment from the mood breaking—rather, glancing down anew, he felt an odd pang at the sheer number of ugly scars marring his skin.
"Yoshinari."
Il-yeong murmured her name softly, tenderly wiping the sweat and saliva from her face. He kissed her forehead lightly as she still gazed sorrowfully at his scars, whispering gently.
"I'll rest. I've handled the urgent matters."
He could afford to do so now, as she'd suggested.
...Though how long the looming storm would let this happiness linger was anyone's guess. But Il-yeong didn't voice that.
"...Yeah. You have to."
"Who said it? Gotta listen."
Mori Yoshinari knew that much herself. He wasn't so oblivious as to ignore the worries of someone he loved.
―Chirrrp.
Just then, amid the suddenly subdued atmosphere, crickets chirped softly. As the heat reignited between them and their eyes met—
―Tap.
Il-yeong lightly tapped below her navel, on her taut, pale abdomen, and whispered.
"I want to have our first child."
"...Huh?"
His sudden confession widened her eyes. She worked her lips a few times, then trembled—not in refusal or disdain, but in joyful acceptance.
Il-yeong chuckled.
"Will you let me?"
She didn't need it spelled out; she knew this was his confession in his own way.
―I want to have our first child.
For her, pushed to second place by her lord, it was the truest declaration—and comfort.
"...Mhm."
Unaware of the tears welling in her eyes, Mori Yoshinari nodded vigorously, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Yes...!"
Perhaps because of that.
Il-yeong's lips curved into a grin.
He slid his half-withdrawn shaft back in smoothly and said.
"At least three kids. Got it?"
Did she know?
How his sons would grow up one day. Il-yeong smiled inwardly with anticipation, burying his face in her pale breasts once more...
"Haaaaang!"
"Hngh!"
That night.
They went through eight ejaculations for him and over ten climaxes for her before collapsing at dawn.
"...No moooore, I, I'm... doofus... Il-yeooong's a doofus...".
Unlike Mori Yoshinari, whose mind was utterly spent, Il-yeong was merely exhausted.
He brushed aside her disheveled, panting face in his broad embrace with affectionate hands and said.
"This has gotta be pregnancy for sure."
He'd never pulled out once, so it was probably certain. Feeling the morning sun creeping into the courtyard, Il-yeong chuckled.
"...I'm happy."
And with those words.
They drifted off in the wrecked room, relying on each other's warmth and scattered clothes.
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
'...Fuck, this is unbearable.'
The samurai standing guard outside all shared the same thought.
No matter how you sliced it.
So damn enviable.