Kiss: Dessert
"Nngh…."
Consciousness rises naturally from the deep abyss where it had sunk. The senses of my body, blocked until now, come flooding back. I laboriously lift my eyelids and open my eyes to find Vincent asleep right in front of me, holding me in his arms.
"Vin… cent…?"
"Mmm, Adela…."
At the unconscious murmur of his name, my Seobang-nim pulls me closer still.
Huh? What? Seobang-nim?
No, what is this…? Did I just naturally think of Vincent as Seobang-nim?! Thanks to that, my sleep vanishes in an instant.
To think of my own disciple as Seobang-nim so naturally—this is absurd. This isn't right, so why is it happening? I mean, what's wrong with calling your own Seobang-nim Seobang-nim? No!! What's wrong with me? Why do I keep registering Vincent as Seobang-nim!
Thinking it might be because I'm nestled in his arms, breathing in his scent, I try to slip out of his embrace. But my disciple apparently dislikes that, because he shows no intention whatsoever of letting me go.
"L-let go. Vincent."
"You're awake? There's my wifey."
"W-wi, wifey?!"
What is this now? W-wifey? Me?
"Vincent, what is that supposed to mean? Yesterday, you… you did… things to me…?"
"Don't you remember?"
He gives a quiet smile—the very picture of a groom the morning after his wedding night.
My memory hangs in tatters, like cloth eaten through by moths. All I can do is deduce from the state of my body what was done to me yesterday. When I throw back the blanket we'd been sharing, there is my bare body, stiff and caked with a crust of dried, mingled fluids. Judging by that state, only one conclusion remains: he and I had furious sex yesterday and fell asleep under the same blanket without so much as cleaning up afterward.
Ah, what has become of me. It seems I've gone and given him an opening yet again. To spend an entire night wrapped tight in his arms, sharing body heat…
As the blanket comes away, the scent of that ferocious coupling hangs heavy in the air. Layered over the warmth trapped beneath the covers, I can even catch the hormones that send a person into heat. And with every breath of that heady smell, the night before comes back to me piece by piece.
"Ah… aah…."
Held fast in his grip, I had allowed him inside me in my sleep and been toyed with like a mere sex toy until the moment my eyes opened. As far as I can recall, by the time I woke he was already using my body to spend himself. And nothing changed after that simply because I was awake. Ignoring my begging him to stop, he came inside me, then came again—pouring himself into me until I genuinely wondered whether my belly would be all right.
He truly doesn't care whether I conceive or not. No—perhaps I should say Vincent is desperate to get me with child. Last night's Vincent could hardly be called normal.
While he violated me and our bodies joined, demonic energy flowed ceaselessly between us, swelling both our reserves. He had poured that energy into me with his eyes glowing crimson, so there is every chance I was affected—changed—by it. Going into heat must be part of that too. The improved condition of my body was all the proof my theory needed.
Setting that aside, my whole body proclaims its fatigue with a pleasant languor. Perhaps because it's morning: after all his "hard work" yesterday, Vincent's cock is still diligently announcing its presence between my legs.
"Ah…! Honestly… what kind of disciple goes into heat like this over his own master…."
Whether it liked the feel of my inner thigh or not, that cock only grew harder by the moment, and I hurried to slip out of Vincent's arms.
"Not calling me Seobang-nim anymore?"
Vincent's voice halts me mid-motion. My neck creaks as I turn toward the sound—and there he is, gazing at the woman in his arms with eyes that find her beyond adorable.
The moment I try to slip out of his arms without a word—
"Whoops, where do you think you're going? I'm not letting go. You mustn't send your spouse out of bed so easily during the honeymoon, you know."
"Eek! Let go of me, you idiot disciple!"
My face feels ready to burst. Pressed tighter against his chest, with last night's ferocious coupling surging back into my head, I can hardly bear it.
"Embarrassed? We're husband and wife—what's there to be shy about?"
That feigned puzzlement of his, as though my embarrassment were the strange thing, only stokes my anger and my shame.
"V-Vincent. Let go, I have things to do!"
"Like what? What could you possibly have to do at the crack of dawn? Adela, don't tell me you're flustered over yesterday?"
Of course he remembers yesterday far too well. Weren't you supposed to have pounced on me because of the demonic energy?!
He catches me as I writhe, desperate to escape the shame, and wraps an arm around my back, pulling me in. The distance between us shrinks until I can feel his breath on my skin. His face, eyes locked with mine, draws closer. Strangely, my mind goes hazy as he approaches—as if I've been waiting for him to come. With a soft smack, he presses a kiss to my forehead.
"You know, blushing like that just makes you cuter?"
"Don't tease me."
Belatedly I reach up to push his face away, but Vincent catches the hand and laces his fingers through mine. Then he kisses the bridge of my nose, my eyelids, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.
"Stop it, you smell."
"Yeah. Adela does smell, sometimes."
"I-I do?!"
But I bathe constantly so as never to be a bother to anyone—and I smelled? Truly, I was mortified and at a loss.
"I-I'm sorry…."
"Sometimes when Adela gets aroused, it's not the faint peach scent off her skin—it's a heavy, overripe peach aroma, the kind that makes you think one good poke would have the juice running down your hand."
"That's what you meant by my smell?!"
Wearing a smile laced with mischief, he brings his face close again. Lips meet lips. A soft smack.
At first the kisses are light, pecking at my lips like a bird. After a few testing presses, Vincent gently bites down on my lower lip and tugs.
Startled, I shove at his chest with my free hand, but with his thick arm braced behind my back, I only end up squirming petulantly in his embrace.
He drinks in my breath. It frightens me, like having the air stolen from my lungs.
"Do you… like me that much?"
"Yeah. I love you more than anyone else in this world."
He offers up a confession hot enough to scald. My heart pounds as though it's broken.
"…Idiot disciple…."
Vincent parts his lips and kisses me again. His tongue slips between my lips and traces the seam of my closed teeth, as if asking leave to enter. After a moment's hesitation, I give in to instinct and part my lips—and his tongue slides in, stroking slow and deep along mine.
"Chuu! Haah…! Nngh!"
Where before it was only ever him forcing me, now my own tongue moves to meet his without my meaning it to. Tongue tangles with tongue, each seeking the other like mating snakes.
Why am I like this? Is it because yesterday he made me call him Seobang-nim and spent himself inside me over and over, declaring me his? But that's something Vincent had done to me before, too. What meaning does it hold now, of all times? Or is the problem the demonic energy that swept over Vincent and me yesterday?
With the hand braced on his chest, I let him know I'm out of breath. Vincent pauses the kiss and looks down at me. I avert my eyes from that gaze, sorrowful and dripping honey. Whether he likes my flustered state too, he tightens his arms around me.
"I want to wash up now…."
"Adela, for a sleepyhead you're awfully eager to bathe first thing in the morning. Same as yesterday. I'd rather savor the afterglow with you a little longer."
He teases me again.
"If y-you hadn't kept me up all night, I wouldn't be short on sleep, and I wouldn't need a bath the second I opened my eyes…!!"
I wanted to thrash him properly, but with Vincent showing no intention of releasing my pinned arm, all I could do was thump at his chest with the hand resting on it.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."
Holding back his laughter, he lets me go. At last I can escape his embrace and go wash.
"I'm only saying this in case—don't follow me. Got it?"
Lest he grab me again, I hurry into my rumpled robe and make for the bedroom door. It stands open a little wider than he'd left it yesterday. Could there have been wind and rain in the night?
Stepping quietly out into the hall, I look down at the floor at the slick sensation under my foot—and find some unidentifiable liquid pooled in three places, half evaporated.
It can't be a leak. However this place looks, it was said to be the handiwork of elves and dwarves; water seeping through hardly seems possible.
I force myself to ignore the possibility flashing through my mind. Don't tell me we were too loud?
There are other guests staying in this house besides Vincent and me. Considering their relationship with Vincent, I can't exactly rule out that possibility. Perhaps, just as I once feared, I've already become a wicked woman deceiving them.
"Haah… he truly doesn't know the meaning of enough, that Vincent…."
The moment his name leaves my lips, the memory of moaning and calling him Seobang-nim yesterday comes flooding back, and my cheeks burn all over again. I need to wash away the traces of last night and shake off these stray thoughts—quickly.
My mother's face rises before me. My mother, who always made my heart ache from some corner of my chest. That woman, drowning in pleasure, who couldn't stop panting as she took a stranger's cock even with her own child watching. It seems I'm in no position to blame her.