Chapter 34

At the hot whisper brushing against his lips, Yuri obeyed, parting them slightly. A subtle tremor took root within him, gradually swelling until his entire body began to itch and shiver. Cherriot swallowed the uncertainty of those parting lips, abandoning all caution as he pressed his tongue forward.

When that searing, soft warmth slid into his mouth and began to search, a chill rippled over the crown of Yuri’s head. It was as if he had unlocked a door he knew he should have kept bolted, and now, the icy waters of the lake were rushing in to claim him.

His eardrums rang with a dull ache. The sun seemed to boil overhead, dizzying and relentless, while the pressure of the water pinned Yuri in place. As Cherriot rushed at him with the intensity of someone who had been waiting for this moment, Yuri realized his mistake.

This was nothing like the act he had imagined.

In Yuri’s memory, a kiss was merely the prelude to foreplay—a mechanical act devoid of meaning, never once stirring anything in his arid heart. The traces of the strangers who had once wet his parched lips would always vanish by the next day, leaving his mouth dry, cracked, and bleeding. That was all he had ever known, and all he had ever wanted.

But this kiss was a cataclysm.

It changed the world so violently that his chest heaved in the wake of it. Because he had resolved to harbor nothing but sin and duty, he had fought tooth and nail to remain ignorant of such things. Yet, in the instant he accepted Cherriot, Yuri sensed that his world would never again be painted in the same colors.

Cherriot’s kiss was a storm. It swept over him with such ferocity that even the act of exhaling made him tremble, threatening to shatter his fragile composure. As if mocking Yuri’s naïve expectation that their tongues might merely graze, Cherriot deepened the kiss—a lover’s kiss, raw and possessive. It was a language Yuri had never spoken.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, his hand curling tightly around Cherriot’s shoulder blade. The tongue that drove impatiently into him tasted him roughly, like a starving beast. Cherriot wound his own tongue around Yuri’s, sucking hard on the flesh that should have been flavorless, yet now, the pressure blooming across his tongue tasted of strange, forbidden pleasure.

Hh, ngh.

The moment Cherriot caught that involuntary moan, his confidence grew. As if it weren’t enough to drive Yuri until saliva pooled, he slickly swept the tender membrane beneath his tongue. Faced with a sensation entirely foreign to his life, Yuri gasped sharply. He remained frozen, gripping Cherriot’s shoulder in a white-knuckled hold, unable to navigate this sudden madness. Cherriot began to lead him with practiced ease, their tongues sliding, tangling, and rubbing against one another in a rhythmic dance.

It felt… truly, maddeningly good.

So good that it bordered on sickness.

He wondered if it could truly be allowed to feel this divine from something as simple as the friction of tongues and the suction of lips.

Cherriot’s wet, slippery lips were as sweet as Yuri had once imagined. Perhaps it was his nickname—Cherry—that made them taste like biting into a ripe, sun-warmed fruit after a long winter. Craving the very sweetness he had once despised, Yuri gradually began to echo the rhythm Cherriot set. Neither thought of stopping; they only tightened their hold on one another, pressing closer, as if to erase the distance between their souls.

The sensation of their noses crushing together, the mingling of cheeks, the breath carrying the sharp, sweet aroma of coffee, and Cherriot’s pheromones—thick enough to mask the scent of the lake water—all of it collided, driving Yuri to the brink of insanity.

To do this with a man of the same designation.

The realization that this act might be more obscene than the sex itself flashed through Yuri’s mind, and the shreds of his reason, which had briefly evaporated, clawed their way back. Cherriot noticed him flinch, though Yuri was by then too consumed to discern whether the moisture running down his jaw was lake water or his own saliva.

Looking up at him with green eyes, lush and heated, Cherriot adjusted the arm supporting Yuri’s waist. When that long, firm limb pressed against his frame, Yuri felt his throat constrict. He let out a breathless gasp, and Cherriot pulled him even closer—an unspoken command that said: You can’t run from me, can you?

And in truth, he could not.

Yuri had no idea how to navigate this lake without him.

With his escape route severed, Cherriot chased him down, driving him senseless. As if the frantic tangling of tongues were not enough, he thoroughly swept Yuri’s mouth with his own, driving so deep toward his throat that Yuri struggled for air, soft, involuntary sounds slipping past his lips.

Mm, hh.

It was maddeningly strange that he was the one producing such sounds.

As if determined to suffocate him, Cherriot swallowed every breath Yuri managed to release. Suffocating and flushed, Yuri clenched his hand into Cherriot’s shoulder. Cherriot pretended to retreat for a fraction of a second, then, the moment Yuri breathed out—haa—he pushed his tongue in again, rubbing the sensitive roof of Yuri’s mouth with a pointed, demanding tip.

“…!”

At a sensation so distinctly different from everything preceding it, Yuri’s eyes flew wide. A shiver of ticklish electricity radiated from the roof of his mouth, racing down his spine to settle in his lower belly, kindling a sharp, foreign arousal. His abdomen hardened, and the ache migrated downward.

This is wrong.

No matter how divine it felt, this was a line he could not cross. Realizing the overt state of his own arousal, Yuri barely managed to seize his fading senses before he did something truly insane.

He understood a kiss; Alphas were creatures who often made the foolish choice to succumb to instinct over reason, and this was exactly that state. But this was the limit. If he went any further…

“Haa, hh…!”

The moment Yuri tried to break the kiss, desperate to hide his reaction, Cherriot scraped the roof of his mouth with his tongue once more. The sensation was hot, ticklish, and so incredibly thick with intent that it pushed Yuri to his absolute breaking point. He could no longer endure it.

In a burst of frantic strength, he shoved Cherriot away. Cherriot, careless in the throes of their shared ecstasy, lost his balance and tipped backward. Yuri, having released his grip, fell in the opposite direction. They both plunged into the water simultaneously. The lake rushed into his nose and mouth, and bubbles bloomed with a sharp, gulping sound.

Fuck.

The sheer bewilderment and fear of falling unprepared surged through him, and Yuri instantly regretted his impulse. Feeling the phantom terror of sinking as he had before, he could only curse his own stupidity.

Idiot. You can’t even swim, and you throw yourself into the water like that?

Fortunately, he didn’t sink. Cherriot’s hand was still supporting his waist, so Yuri, regaining his composure, stepped on Cherriot’s body to push himself upward. Cherriot silently acted as a foothold, and the moment Yuri surfaced, he surged up after him, accompanied by a rushing splash and the sound of Yuri coughing.

“You can’t even swim. What are you doing, hm?”

Cherriot, surfacing right behind him, scolded him softly. Rising easily in the water, he again wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist to steady him. Despite having told himself he needed distance, Yuri felt a profound sense of relief at the strength supporting him. The moment that warm, solid body pressed against him, he felt anchored.

“No one has ever drunk as much of Big Fox lake as you have.”

While waiting for Yuri to catch his breath, Cherriot whispered gently. Perhaps due to the lingering effects of that deep kiss, Cherriot’s voice was hoarse—two tones lower than his usual baritone. The sound sent a chill straight through Yuri’s ear. When he flinched, Cherriot hugged him tighter.

“Are you cold?”

Because they were trapped in such proximity, Yuri had no choice but to face him. The moment he met those wet, green eyes, something unbearable welled up within him, and he slowly turned his gaze aside, barely managing a reply.

“…Yes.”

Looking directly into Cherriot’s eyes felt suffocatingly awkward. At Yuri’s embarrassed answer, Cherriot’s mouth curved into a soft smile. He looked far too composed—shamelessly so—for someone who had just kissed Yuri into a state of breathless disorientation.

“Let’s go, then.”

Yuri looked toward the shore. It wasn’t far, but they still had to swim until his feet could touch the bottom. Noticing his gaze, Cherriot loosened the arm around his waist. The moment the support vanished, Yuri instinctively grabbed Cherriot’s shoulder again. Seeing Yuri cling to him while frowning with wet, bedraggled brows, Cherriot burst into a bright, easy laugh.

“Aren’t you too cute once you’re in the water?”

And whose fault was that? Tightening his grip, Yuri muttered low, “Shut up.”

“Don’t get angry, Wolfie. I’m being sincere.”

“Whether you mean it or not, I’m not in the mood for this—”

Perhaps the wind decided to play a trick, because the current swelled before he could finish. At the sudden rise of the water, Yuri tensed, and that shift in weight made him sink sharply. He nearly went under before Cherriot caught him, swimming to his side to hold him from behind.

“You’re okay,” Cherriot whispered against his ear. Because he held him from behind, his lips brushed the shell of Yuri’s ear—a sensation far too close, making Yuri’s spine itch. “I’m here, so you won’t sink.”

Cherriot slid his hand under Yuri’s right arm and tilted his chin. This gesture was equally foreign, causing Yuri to flinch, but as he listened to Cherriot murmur that it was alright, his tension gradually began to bleed away.

Feeling Yuri loosen, Cherriot carefully cupped his chin so water wouldn’t enter his mouth, and then began to move smoothly through the lake. As he lay with his back against Cherriot’s chest, Yuri witnessed a sight he had never seen before.

The sky seen from the water was entirely different from the sky seen from land. Without his feet planted on solid earth, the sun felt dazzling, as if he were drifting through the clouds themselves. The gravity that had always weighed on his shoulders had vanished; the ghostly hands that had clutched his ankles for years were gone. At last, he could breathe.

Then, sensations he hadn’t noticed before began to filter in.

Like the heat of Cherriot’s skin against his back.

Or the way his breath fell away against Yuri’s ear, the rhythmic movement of his long legs stirring the water, the ripples left in their wake.

All of it flowed vividly through Yuri’s senses. More than that, he recalled the absurd, fierce exhilaration of that kiss. Heat still coursed through his veins, and his heart hammered against his ribs.

“…”

Yuri parted his lips while looking at the sky. The impulse to speak of those eternal minutes of kissing rose in him, yet it was countered by the ironclad refusal to acknowledge it.

What would talking about it even change? Could one kiss alter anything?

Looking into his own dizzy mind, Yuri concluded that pretending ignorance was the only path. While he was lost in thought, they reached the shallows, his feet finally touching the bottom. Cherriot stepped onto the sand first, lifting Yuri from behind. It seemed his claim about moving Yuri while he slept hadn’t been a lie; he possessed a strength that pulled Yuri up effortlessly.

The moment they reached the land, Yuri stood on his own feet and tried to create space. But the pebbles, worn round by the water, were slippery, and he swayed. It wasn’t a precarious fall, but Cherriot caught his arm nonetheless.

“You should be careful, Yuri.”

At the gentle, resonant voice, Yuri lifted his head. It displeased him that this much younger man treated him as if he were the child, but that irritation evaporated the moment their eyes met. Standing there soaked, Cherriot’s green eyes stole his words.

In those vivid depths—like young leaves blooming to greet summer—Yuri read desire. It wasn’t simple lust. It was a crystal of heat and longing, lodged deep in Cherriot’s pupils. The instant Yuri saw it, his own body ignited. A maddening heat expanded through his veins, urging him forward.

Kiss him. Grip that beautiful chin and press your mouth to his, tangle your tongues just like before.

The demand echoed through his head, leaving no room for any other thought. A shapeless force shoved him from behind. He wanted to bite Cherriot’s lips and taste again that ecstatic sweetness. It was a terrifying thing to know exactly what the other person wanted without a word passing between them.

“No.”

Yuri whispered it to himself, but Cherriot was faster. As if the man knew exactly what Yuri craved, Cherriot grabbed him. Instead of pushing away the touch he had struck off so many times before, Yuri let out a sigh like a curse and reached for Cherriot’s jaw.