Desperate to stop himself from biting again, he tried to lift his head, resisting the instinct.
But the strain was too much.
His body trembled, hands clenching into fists as he reached back, fingers grasping at empty air.
“M-Mr. Kang... ahh—!”
‘He likes this.’
Wooheon could feel it.
His hands, still spreading Yueul apart, registered every tiny tremor, every minute shift in his muscles.
His body wasn’t just tensing—it was reacting.
Ignoring the hands clawing at nothing, Wooheon only pressed in deeper.
His tongue flicked up from below, sliding along the edges of his tight entrance.
Yueul clenched harder.
‘I-I’m gonna die at this rate.’
His grip on the torn pillow tightened as he lowered his head.
There was only one way out of this.
If he didn’t say what Wooheon wanted to hear, this wasn’t going to stop.
And if he didn’t stop, his tongue was going to push inside.
“M-Mr. Kang... hngh... just stop and—put it in already... hahh.”
