Chapter 42

The Aberrant looming over him released a guttural, throat-scraped groan. Myeong-joo, too, experienced an unprecedented sensation: the outflow of Harmonizer energy discharging through his inner tissues was unlike anything he had ever felt in his living days, worlds apart from the solitary comfort of his own hand.

His inner walls, heightened to peak sensitivity from releasing the harmonization, were utterly defenseless against the deep, wet friction claiming them. It approached an overwhelming, almost unbearable pleasure, yet the stimulus was so acute that it registered nearly as pain.

A sensation like an enormous tongue sweeping over his entire being crashed over him—the feeling of being tossed about by an absolute entity without the slightest power to resist. Myeong-joo begged without even knowing what he was pleading for, yet Yi-tan did not relent. Or had he? Myeong-joo could no longer tell, for by then, the voracious rhythm seeking to drive ever deeper had begun to feel intoxicatingly welcome.

“Ngh, ah… hah…!” Myeong-joo arched his back against the sheets.

“Ngh…”

Yi-tan pressed his lips beside Myeong-joo’s ear, panting heavily. His face was flushed crimson, as Myeong-joo’s surely was. A prominent vein pulsed visibly across his forehead. His flashing eyes seemed to shimmer with gold, yet whenever Myeong-joo looked closely, they reverted to deep chestnut.

“Instructor… hah… Instructor…” Yi-tan panted hoarsely.

He called the title once more. Unable to answer, Myeong-joo simply swayed with the relentless momentum rocking him. In truth, an answer was physically impossible. Yi-tan’s muscular thighs slapped against him with fierce impact. The sheer intensity resembled a spirited stallion rearing in motion, making coherent thought impossible. Heightened beyond reason, Myeong-joo’s core converted every deep impact into sharp pleasure, eventually transmuting even the residual ache into raw euphoria.

“Ngh—!”

Lee Yi-tan dipped his head to mouth at the curve beneath Myeong-joo’s pectoral. Taking a full bite of flesh, he suckled deeply, leaving the bare nipple brushing the corner of his lips. Consequently, each movement of Yi-tan’s mouth sent sharp ripples of sensation through the sensitive bud. A ticklish, bizarre feeling washed over Myeong-joo. He was an adult male; why was the youth suckling at a chest that had nothing to offer?

Yet that was merely Myeong-joo’s naive impression; in reality, a profound physiological reaction was taking place. Having absorbed the harmonization, the Aberrant’s bodily secretions had begun releasing trace compounds designed to heighten a Harmonizer’s arousal and stimulate superior harmonization output. Not all Aberrants possessed such a trait—only the exceptionally powerful could produce it.

“Wait, that feels strange—hold on…” Myeong-joo stammered.

Each time Yi-tan suckled along the pectoral line, Myeong-joo’s chest muscles twitched. When he twisted his shoulders in an attempt to pull away, the unyielding disciple—who had been driving into his lower half without hesitation—pinned him down firmly with his hips as though annoyed by the resistance. Trapped with Yi-tan’s waist locked between his thighs, Myeong-joo had no choice but to endure the ravenous mouth on his chest.

In his frantic squirming, his arms drew inward, inadvertently presenting his chest even more favorably. An instant later, the nipple that had been teasing the corner of Yi-tan’s mouth was taken fully between his lips.

“Ah—ngh!”

It was an unrecognizable, breathless sound. Clamping a hand over his mouth in alarm, Myeong-joo shook his head helplessly as further whimpers escaped. Enclosed within warm lips, the bud had already grown taut and sensitive from the persistent stimulation, gorged with blood. When the abrasive sweep of Yi-tan’s tongue pressed down upon that hardened point, Myeong-joo’s hips arched involuntarily—an arch that only aided the deep, pounding rhythm locked between his thighs.

“Ngh, hah… ah…”

“Mmh, haah…”

Yi-tan made no effort to hide his groans. If anything, he sounded even more breathlessly consumed than Myeong-joo. A heavy vein coiled along his neck surged with a thrumming cadence, his pulse racing furiously. In the intervals between licking and suckling, Yi-tan parted his lips to release shallow, searing breaths. Each exhale washed hot steam across Myeong-joo’s skin; the trouble was, the neglected side of his chest seemed to interpret that scorching breath as direct caresses. From the heat of that air alone, the left peak tightened and grew rigid, matching the swollen bud on the right.

“Ah, this is strange… too strange…” Myeong-joo whispered weakly.

Yi-tan looked down at him as though asking what witchcraft Myeong-joo had worked upon him, an edge of wounded astonishment in his gaze. Still joined below, Myeong-joo stared blankly up at him as the youth drew back slightly to level that bewildered reproach. His left chest remained swollen as if protesting its neglect, while a clear fluid seeped steadily from Myeong-joo’s own rigid length, pooling lightly near his navel and glistening over the pale contours of his abdomen.

Oblivious to his own disheveled state, Myeong-joo gazed back with hazy eyes. When Yi-tan’s expression tightened and he lowered his torso once more to bury his face in Myeong-joo’s chest, Myeong-joo covered his eyes with both palms. Wet, suckling sounds filled the air again. Drawing in both breast and bud together, Yi-tan rolled and flicked the taut nipple with untamed greed, playing with it just as he had with the other side.

“Ha… I never imagined…”

“…Ngh.”

Yi-tan kept muttering disjointed words under his breath, but Myeong-joo could not catch them. He could feel his own passage clenching tightly around the joined length, stimulated by Yi-tan gently grazing the bud between his incisors and rolling his tongue heavily over the sensitive point. Like an honor student who had cracked a secret formula, Yi-tan gave Myeong-joo’s chest no quarter from then on.

Lifting his head, he locked an oily, predatory gaze upon Myeong-joo. A chilling look. Goosebumps prickled across Myeong-joo’s flesh as he felt precisely like prey locked inside a cage with a famished beast.

“I am going to move more,” Yi-tan warned in a low growl.

“…”

At the warning tone, Myeong-joo offered no reply. Interpreting that silence however he pleased, Yi-tan resumed his motion. Catching Myeong-joo by both ankles, he hitched them over his shoulders, planting his hands beside Myeong-joo’s flanks as he leaned over him.

Bent sharply at an acute angle, Myeong-joo clenched around him in distress, causing Yi-tan’s brow to knit as well. Yi-tan flicked his tongue to wet his lower lip, then broke into a fierce, breathless grin as he recommenced the demanding rhythm of his hips. With each upward drive, broken words fell from his mouth.

“This is strange,” Yi-tan rasped between breaths. “Hahh… clearly…”

Rough, ragged pants heavily fractured his speech. Incapable of replying, Myeong-joo could only arch his neck back in muffled torment.

“At first, I had full control of my senses… Ngh, mm… but halfway through, not at all…”

Myeong-joo had no idea what he meant, nor any desire to know. The flared crown remained relentlessly engaged, expending all its might to scrape across Myeong-joo’s sensitive inner walls. When excess camellia oil was pushed out by the friction, Yi-tan watched it briefly, then used an index finger to gather the dripping oil and work it back into the joined entrance. Stretched to what seemed its utmost limit, the trembling passage strained to admit the added intrusion of his finger.

Foolish body! Myeong-joo screamed in inward fury—a silent shriek that never passed his lips. The way his flesh responded independent of his will mirrored his pathetic, unguarded heart so precisely that a wave of self-loathing shuddered through him.

Lowering one of Myeong-joo’s legs to the mattress, Yi-tan rested his knees against his thighs and hoisted the remaining leg high over his shoulder with ruthless purpose. Then, he drove relentlessly back into Myeong-joo’s core.

Twisted half onto his side by the repositioning, Myeong-joo flailed his arms in disarray. Being tossed about so helplessly by another’s strength made him feel utterly wretched. At that moment, his own taut member finally shuddered, releasing its pent-up climax with a helpless spurt.

As though he had been waiting for that very moment, Yi-tan exclaimed, “You came! Ha, what a relief…!”

His tone brimmed with genuine elation. Reaching down, Yi-tan wrapped his hand around Myeong-joo’s releasing length. Having flared to fever pitch and just spent its peak, the flesh was exquisitely sensitive; the direct touch of another—and of Yi-tan’s hand, no less—wrung broken groans from Myeong-joo’s throat. A maddening, ticklish electricity skittered over the crown as the tip pulsed with residual droplets. Yi-tan smoothed the fluid over the tip with his thumb, each sweep igniting sensations far too intense to describe as mere ticklishness. Head bowed low, Myeong-joo wept softly into the sheets.

“I am enjoying this as well… hah, mm… ngh…” Yi-tan breathed hoarsely.

With a light chuckle, Yi-tan drove his hips upward without pause, wet slaps echoing loudly from where they were joined. What was so fortunate, and what was there to enjoy? A hollow, bitter laugh slipped from Myeong-joo. Perhaps that inward contraction tightened his passage, for Yi-tan murmured, “Instructor,” in a syrupy, intoxicated tone.

Inside Myeong-joo, something felt as though it had shattered into dust. What was it that had broken? It felt like something he had treasured and protected for a very long time.

“…Instructor, would you please turn onto your stomach?”

Without time to process the unspoken command to get on his hands and knees, Myeong-joo moved in a daze as Yi-tan lifted his hips, guiding his knees down against the mattress. As though following an inevitable routine, Myeong-joo rested on all fours. Large, scorching hands took a bruising hold of his pelvis.

“Ngh!” A strangled cry tore from Myeong-joo’s throat as the breath was knocked out of him.

Thrusting forcefully from behind in a single unbroken motion, Yi-tan drove deep within; unable to withstand the shock, Myeong-joo buried his face into the pillows. Yi-tan gently patted his hip.

“It will be hard to breathe like that,” Yi-tan coaxed, whispering with tender care. “If it is too painful, I will finish quickly. Prop yourself up a little.”

Myeong-joo braced his trembling arms against the bed. Yi-tan withdrew almost completely before sinking in with slow deliberation; judging that Myeong-joo had adjusted, he accelerated the tempo into a swift, relentless cadence. The inner passage once more welcomed the Aberrant. Myeong-joo even felt a strange, cooling relief, as though the turbulent Harmonizer fluid that had tormented him all along were draining away like an ebbing tide.

“Ah, Instructor… hah…”

Yi-tan leaned forward, pressing his chest flush against Myeong-joo’s back. Though he did not crush him with his full weight as before, the simple contact of their skin exerted an immense, suffocating pressure. Pressing his lips against Myeong-joo’s shoulder blade, he drove his hips. The rigid length thrust mercilessly deep before pulling out almost to the entrance, as if daring him to miss it.

Overstimulated by the dragging friction of the flared crown, Myeong-joo spent himself yet again. Looking down, he saw his unprincipled member dripping onto the sheets. Myeong-joo let out a silent, bitter smile, careful never to let his bed partner detect his self-mockery.

At the wellspring where water bubbles up, a pure, crystalline chill resides—a grateful cold that calmed his boiling fever.

From the very moment he reversed time to the present, Yi-tan had suffered a simultaneous burning itch and unquenchable thirst that scorched his peripheral nerves. At its worst, it manifested as blinding agony. It was a torment unknown in his previous life, where a devoted Harmonizer partner who worried over him had always been within arm’s reach.

“I was too rough,” Yi-tan admitted softly.

That was why he had lost control at the very first moment. Seeing Myeong-joo stiffen in terror, he had fully intended to enter slowly. But the instant those oil-slicked folds yielded slightly to take in the crown, an extraordinary sensation conveyed between their membranes overwhelmed him.

In the next breath, even as he told himself to halt, he had driven in completely. To part that reluctant, unyielding passage and claim it with his fullness—the sensation defied description. If all the harmonization he had received until now was like a single cup of water dashed over a burning body, what he experienced today was entirely different.

It was like diving straight into the fresh, bubbling source of a spring, immersed in cool, gentle benediction. Sharing flesh with Myeong-joo bestowed precisely that blessing. Yi-tan felt more vividly alive than ever before. Wherever he had walked, he had always felt as though the scorching sun hung inches from his skin; only now, absorbing this harmonization, did he truly understand. He even thought that this had to be the serene peace ordinary mortals enjoyed every day.

“I pushed you too hard. I’m reflecting on it, Instructor,” Yi-tan said.

That deep satisfaction bled unbidden into his tone and demeanor. Even without this, Yi-tan had long revered Cha Myeong-joo. He respected him and harbored a profound affection—an affection rooted in the Cha Myeong-joo of his past life, who had been both his instructor and an extraordinary Harmonizer, but reverence nonetheless. Yet if he could receive such intense harmonization every time… He had always viewed Aberrants who obsessed over and thirsted after Harmonizers as pathetic, but judging by today’s experience, he might well become one of those pathetic creatures himself.

He had indeed wed Cha Myeong-joo in his previous life as well. However, most of the memories following the wedding were lost. The fleeting fragments that remained were closer to isolated tableaux than memories: Cha Myeong-joo smiling at him with fond affection, or himself watching over the sleeping instructor. He could recall nothing of the emotions or impressions he had held at the time. Perhaps, even after marrying, they had maintained the decorous distance between instructor and cadet, sharing comradeship. They must have shared physical contact for harmonization, yet the specific details eluded him entirely. Besides, he could hardly imagine his instructor, who had treated him solely as a young cadet, sharing a bed in this manner.