MOSC 6

Just by suckling at her breast, such distinct ecstasy.

But there was no time to feel shame.

“Heut, ah…!”

“Think of nothing. Look only at me.”

Wigyeom breathed hotly into her ear.

Pushing down her slender calves, which flailed like willow branches, the man surged upward and pressed his lips to hers again. He was frantic, as if he had longed for this moment for an eternity.

“It feels good, does it not? Just answer me once.”

That’s all I need.

If he could just hear that answer, Wigyeom felt he could gladly offer his life, even if fate were to kill him again.

He had already given his life for this woman once; there was no reason he couldn’t do it a second time.

“Th-That is….”

In the midst of her confusion, On thought.

Does it feel good?

Of course, it did.

Her body, responding to the man’s touch, was delivering a level of excitement and pleasure she had never known before.

“You can be honest. I will serve you all the more diligently if you do.”

Wigyeom’s words only fanned the flames of On’s confusion.

“There is no need to be shy. I will teach you the act of a man and a woman sharing their bodies. There is nothing difficult about it.”

Think only of tonight.

He could feel her hesitation, still thinking of the future.

But Wigyeom spurred himself on, like whipping a running horse.

This was the last chance given by the heavens to atone to his wife from his past life.

Any delay would only make the situation more difficult.

Wigyeom felt that to devour his young, innocent wife as he wished, he needed even greater momentum.

He acted at once.

Just as On thought nothing more could happen and felt her energy drain, a sharp tension seized her waist.

“Ah…!”

A large hand, calloused and hard beyond what one would expect from a scholar, moved past her thigh and toward her nether regions.

Finding an unexpected opening, Wigyeom’s thick middle finger occupied the hot, wet passage.

“Heut…! Eu…!”

It happened in an instant, and On’s eyes flew wide.

Gazing into those eyes, which seemed to hold the full light of the moon, Wigyeom’s lips curled up in the darkness with rapture.

His wife’s inner flesh provided a more electrifying sensation than he remembered. Just inserting his finger inside her sent a thrill of ecstasy and pleasure that felt like it shot straight up his spine.

‘Damn it… with just a finger.’

He felt that his member, which had been erect from the moment he met On’s eyes, would not be able to hold out much longer.

But Wigyeom knew all too well that he could not follow his own desires here.

His own pleasure had to be the very last thing.

Everything had to revolve around his wife, On.

‘My pleasure comes later. First, my wife….’

Wigyeom clenched his jaw.

A thick vein stood out on his forehead as he endured. He forcefully suppressed the urge to bury himself inside his wife, who was already welcoming him with a hot fluid, and began to move his finger.

“An old poem says, a sliver of fate led to a thousand lifetimes of wandering, asking the moonlight for the day we would meet again….”

Wigyeom murmured as if reciting to himself, his lips pressed against On’s temple. His tormented groan sent shivers down On’s arm. Then, biting his lip, he began to circle the trembling walls of her flesh.

On noticed that the man’s neck, visible in the dim darkness, was completely flushed red.

“…Hoping the wind might carry news of you, hoping the moon might reflect your face.”

“Ah… Heut! Eut….”

As his low voice, like the strings of a zither, tickled her ear, her inner walls, which held his finger, became drenched with excitement.

On’s entire body trembled.

Once again, a sharp, string-like moan escaped her lips, which had been sealed with tension.

“…You must compensate me for all those long nights I spent, heart-in-throat, unable to sleep.”

In that moment, Wigyeom was remembering his past life.

His middle-aged years, when, after the trouble caused by Princess Bonghwa, he was forced to join a delegation and sent wandering abroad, practically exiled.

How many things he had seen.

How vast he had felt the world to be.

How much he had regretted his past deeds.

And how much he had missed this woman, left behind in his homeland.

…But when Wigyeom finally returned after his long time abroad, all that greeted him was a family on the brink of ruin and On’s sickly body.

‘This time, never again….’

Wigyeom’s eyes grew hot.

The man’s finger began to delve heavily into On’s thoroughly soaked insides. He thrust his long, thick finger gently, as if plowing a field. Overwhelmed by the feverish heat she was feeling for the first time in her life, On shuddered and crumpled the innocent bedsheets beside her.

“Eu, u-eut, heung, heu-eup….”

To keep from getting excited himself, Wigyeom had to wring out every last bit of his sanity.

“I hope you know just how desperately I am trying not to hurt you right now….”

On could not understand a single word the king’s most loyal subject was saying.

Had he, like her, gotten drunk on half a cup of liquor?

Or was he mistaking her for another woman?

Since entering the palace, On had never once stepped outside the innermost court, a place forbidden to men.

She had no history of even encountering a statue of the opposite sex, let alone the man before her.

‘It feels… good.’

But when the man’s fingertip pressed firmly against some deep place inside her, On couldn’t help but think that nothing else mattered.

Her head felt heavy as if drunk on pleasure, and then in an instant, her entire body felt dizzy, as if floating on a cloud, her vision swimming.

‘It feels… so good.’

Without realizing it, On grabbed the collar of the man’s jeogori.

Even though he was being held by the scruff of his neck, the man simply clenched his jaw to suppress a willing smile.

“Yes, just like that. For you, I would let myself be caught a thousand, ten thousand times.”

If his trusted retainer, the merchants who had suffered under him in his past life, and the scholars he had humiliated were to hear this, their blood would boil.

How many powerful figures had used every means possible to make this one man, Sim Wigyeom, submit?

This was the same Wigyeom who had effortlessly evaded all those influential men.

And now, this same man was offering his neck to the hand of a simple, unknowing woman.

Gazing down at On, who was looking up at him with a beet-red face, Wigyeom thought, giddy with rapture.

‘This neck belongs only to my wife.’

In that moment, Wigyeom was sincere.

The scruff of his neck was nothing. He wouldn’t mind if she held his entire life hostage.

She already had, in a way.

Slap, slap. Each time he let out a low sigh in time with On’s moans, the wet, squelching sound from below them grew clearer and more distinct. This time, his other hand traveled down her shoulder and cupped her firm breast. As the nipple, gently crushed and flattened in his large palm, brushed against his calloused skin, On’s own skin twitched and trembled.

“Heu-eut…!”

Drenched in a pleasure she had never felt before, On did not notice what was coming, not even when the man’s hand finally left her, nor when he parted her thighs and settled himself between them.

“Don’t be alarmed.”

Wigyeom wrapped her slender legs around his waist and pressed his hot mouth to the tip of her chin.

“I will teach you everything.”

Wigyeom considered his wife to be a baby who truly knew nothing, and he planned to teach her one thing at a time.

He intended to slowly make her understand the joy of marital relations, the amorous pleasure between a man and a woman.

I will tell you everything.

The piercing self-reproach, and this longing he could not express in his past life.

And, enough to cover all that and more, his deep love for her.

The man began to move their joined bodies slowly, like a cresting wave.

He didn’t forget to add a kind explanation for his innocent young wife.

“I will enter you and move like this.”

“At…!”

He was completely covering On from above with his own body. Pinned beneath the man, On’s body froze as he began to move as if in coitus. The gentleness of his breath tracing her jawline should have made her tremble in fear, yet she felt no sense of danger at all. It felt more like a preparatory act for something else.

‘This… feeling….’

Lost in the rocking motion he provided, On closed her eyes, parted her lips, and gripped his forearms tightly.

She didn’t know what it was, but it felt so good. She wished the moment would never end, yet at the same time, she felt a desire to reach the end, sensing something even greater awaited her there.

But that feeling of elation was brief. Against the wet, slick skin of her inner thighs, she felt something as hard and blunt as a wooden club. It was as straight as a bow and as hard as an iron rod.

‘It’s… hot and hard….’

And it was too big.

She could have honestly believed he had placed a wooden club between her legs.

Or that he had borrowed the member of a beast in heat, and she would have been fooled.

‘I’m scared.’

On was terrified. The fear of the unknown, which she had pushed to the back of her mind, came creeping back. She remembered the head court lady’s lesson that the first time was usually very painful.

She fidgeted like a frightened piglet, trying to pull her hips back, but her legs were only spread wider, and something rigid pressed against the inside of her groin.

“You will not.”

Startled, her calves flinched, but Wigyeom pressed his loins firmly between her two legs.