TE 17

Seo-ha’s slender thighs rested against the heated, unyielding terrain of another’s skin—though “rested” seemed too passive a description. More accurately, his firmly sculpted muscles cradled her, providing a foundation both solid and surprisingly tender.

Even without direct touch, she could sense the intricate musculature beneath his skin—a complex landscape of strength that seemed to breathe and respond to her presence. The lines of his body told a story of discipline and controlled power, each fiber seemingly woven with an intentionality that transcended mere physicality.

Her body hovered in that liminal space between sitting and lying, balanced precariously on Tae-beom’s thighs like two carefully positioned pillows tucked beneath her shoulders. This moment—suspended between states, between breaths—felt fragile and profound.

“Wait, I… I’m sca-scared…”

“If you’re afraid, I’ll stop.”

His serpentine tongue continued its exploration, fingers kneading and caressing intertwined thighs with deliberate, almost hypnotic movement.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, his tone unexpectedly tender.

Tae-beom’s gentle demeanor began to dissolve Seo-ha’s carefully constructed emotional barriers. Kindness had rarely been extended to her before, and typically such unexpected tenderness would spark suspicion. But this was no ordinary interaction—this was something altogether different.

Like taming a wild creature, one must understand the delicate balance of restraint and compassion. Seo-ha, who had known more of the metaphorical whip than the gentle caress, found herself unexpectedly vulnerable to Tae-beom’s nuanced approach. The same hands that had previously caused her pain now offered a kind of healing touch that seemed to reach far deeper than mere physical comfort.

Following his lead, she spread her legs, watching with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation as only the tip of his penis entered her.

True to his earlier promise, Tae-beom moved with deliberate, almost meditative slowness. His entry felt like something primordial—reminiscent of a serpent’s precise, measured infiltration. Each moment was startlingly vivid, each sensation hyper-defined.

Uncertain, she glanced down to confirm the presence of the condom.

“This… it might tear…”

The thin membrane plastic clung to him like a second skin, seeming impossibly fragile against his substantial form. It appeared ready to rupture at the slightest provocation.

Tae-beom’s response was a soft, almost incredulous laugh. “It won’t tear.”

His fingers traced her entrance with surprising gentleness, then moved upward to her most sensitive point. When his thumb pressed deliberately, she responded instantaneously.

“Why… why are you touching me there?!”

“Because you feel good here,” he murmured, his voice a blend of observation and intimate knowledge.

The small, flushed point—nestled beneath soft flesh—seemed to bloom under his touch, emerging fully as he parted the sparse hair. His fingers pressed, insistent, as he incrementally pushed deeper. The interior walls that had once violently resisted now seemed to yield, clinging with a different intention.

Seo-ha recognized the transformation happening within her own body. The unbearable foreignness, the searing pain that had once made escape seem the only refuge—had altered. Something fundamental had shifted, a boundary quietly, irrevocably crossed.

From a precise point of contact, an unfamiliar sensation began to bloom—tingling, ethereal, almost impossible to articulate. It reminded her of their earlier intimacy in the car, but with a crucial difference: now, he was penis was fully pressed within her.

“This feels… strange,” she whispered.

“It’s good,” he murmured.

“Slow… oh, please…”

He pushed deeper, releasing a soft, almost playful laugh.

“You like this, don’t you? When I touch you?”

The question was both tender and provocative.

Seo-ha gripped the pillowcase, twisting her body, attempting to maintain some semblance of defiance. Her glare, however, quickly softened under the weight of emerging sensation.

With remarkable patience, he would incrementally advance—a knuckle’s breadth, then pause. His fingers never ceased their deliberate exploration of her most sensitive point, ensuring her pleasure remained paramount. Even as he spoke with a hint of mischief, she recognized the profound care underlying his actions.

Such meticulously cultivated patience, she realized, invariably sought—and often found—its own form of reward.

“Ah…!”

In the end, the union between them was as complete as Tae-beom had wanted. Tae-beom’s penis, which felt huge to Seo-ha, had finally gone all the way in.

“Slowly… please…” The words emerged as a final, fragile protest.

As Tae-beom slowly inserted himself, Seo-ha had initially surrendered her body in trust. But the moment his penis went all the way in, it triggered her fears—the aftershocks from their previous, violent encounter still resonating within her.

With trembling eyes, she lifted her gaze—her fear vividly showing in her face. Tae-beom responded not with words, but with a deliberate, measured movement. His hips rotated with a gentle, almost meditative rhythm, until their bodies completely merged.

“Do not fear, young lady,” he murmured, his voice a languid whisper threading through ragged breaths.

The words echoed with an almost theatrical refinement, like a line from a period drama.

“I shall follow your wishes.”

Yet this was no mere performative gesture. Unlike their first encounter, he did not strike or thrust violently. Instead, he moved with an almost contemplative slowness, exploring internal landscapes with a reverence that bordered on the introspective.

Initially, it was bearable. Even pleasant. The sensation—ticklish, complex—existed in a liminal space between comfort and something more profound.

But gradually, anticipation began to coil within Seo-ha. The fear of sudden, brutal movement transformed into a different kind of tension—a restless, almost unbearable expectancy.

“Perhaps… move… just a little…” The words emerged fragmented, desperate.

Tae-beom’s response carried a sardonic edge. “Such demanding wishes, my lady.”

“Huh, ahh… .”

“How picky.”

A derisive sound escaped Tae-beom’s lips—a near-sneer that made Seo-ha flush with inexplicable embarrassment. Despite Seo-ha’s tentative permission to move, Tae-beom seemed intent on prolonging their shared tension, focusing instead on the wet, intimate sounds of their connection.

Strange sensations rippled across Seo-ha’s skin, each nerve ending electrified, while Tae-beom remained seemingly detached—his touch clinical, almost indifferent. As frustration threatened to crystallize into tears, Tae-beom seized Seo-ha’s arm with sudden decisiveness.

“Ah…!”

 Unlike before, when her thighs were merely pressed together, Seo-ha now found herself fully seated atop his body. The moment she settled onto him, their point of connection deepened beyond what she had previously imagined.

A startled movement of her hips caused Tae-beom’s concealed form to be revealed, drawing a soft, involuntary sound from her lips.

“Oh, h-ah…”

The intimate walls of her body seemed to caress and explore with each subtle shift, while cool air brushed against heated skin. Tae-beom’s breath escaped like a low, primal sound—almost a wounded animal’s whisper—his brow furrowed with intense sensation.

Momentarily frozen, Seo-ha watched him carefully, her earlier nervous movements suspended in uncertainty.

When Tae-beom met her gaze, something shifted between them. “You’re doing well,” he murmured, a gentle smile cutting through her apprehension.

His face, glistening with exertion and marked by that knowing smile, struck something deep within Seo-ha. Until this moment, she had carefully avoided contemplating her aesthetic preferences in men, believing such thoughts were inappropriate. Yet now, she realized, if someone were to ask about her tastes, she could answer with startling clarity.

Ki Tae-beom would become her singular reference—his precise features, his expressions, his physicality, his voice.

Especially in this vulnerable instant, something about him resonated profoundly. Unlike potential scenarios where she might have been mocked or dismissed, here was genuine encouragement. His response wasn’t judgment, but affirmation.

The way he observed her tentative movements, responding with the patience one might offer a child learning something new, stirred something unexpected within her. Not criticism, but genuine support. And in that moment, she found herself wanting—needing—to prove herself, to excel, to meet his unspoken expectations.

“Like this…” she whispered.

“Mmm…”

“Am I doing it… correctly?” Seo-ha asked tentatively, slowly lowering her hips, her voice a mixture of uncertainty and emerging confidence.

“Yes, just like that…”

“Ah! Oh…”

“You’re doing well.”

These were not mere placating words. With each hesitant movement of her hips, Tae-beom’s furrowed brow and intense gaze confirmed her growing competence. There was something profoundly intimate about witnessing the subtle transformations of his expression—each micro-reaction a testament to their shared vulnerability.

Observing the way pleasure incrementally claimed his features was unexpectedly exhilarating.

A primal thought flickered through her mind: she wanted to consume him entirely.

Why had no one ever spoken about this extraordinary sensation?

The rough encounter from earlier seemed to dissolve, becoming an increasingly distant memory.

Her initial cautious movements gradually became more deliberate, more assured. What would have been unimaginable before now felt remarkably liberating. The very act of taking control—of herself, of this moment—sent electric shivers through her body.

Their intimate connection became a landscape of wet, intricate textures. Moisture from her most sensitive places traced delicate patterns, creating a glistening map of their shared desire. With each movement, their bodies would connect and separate, a rhythmic dance of skin and sensation.

Unable to maintain his passive position, Tae-beom suddenly shifted. His muscular arms encircled her with practiced precision, rendering her momentarily immobile. Their bodies pressed together—her softness against his hardness, her shirt-covered breasts melding against his firm chest.

“Oh! Ah…!” The sudden intimacy drew a sharp, involuntary sound from her lips.

The brief facade of patience and consideration quickly dissolved, revealing the primal desire that had been waiting just beneath the surface. And yet, it was alright. The forceful rhythm brought a hint of pain, but not nearly as intense as before. More importantly, the overwhelming waves of pleasure seemed to dissolve any discomfort.

“Yes! Ah! Oh!”

Her mind began to blur, white edges consuming her consciousness. She recognized the signal building within her body—a familiar sensation she’d experienced before, but different now. The intense pleasure that had once been confined to her most sensitive point now radiated through their entire connection.

Tae-beom’s strong arms held her in place, rendering her nearly immobile. Her hands reflexively scraped against his thighs—not in resistance, but in a desperate attempt to ground herself against the overwhelming sensations. This was not about escaping, but enduring. Neither of them wanted to flee; neither could, even if they wished.

“Ah…! Mmm, oh!”

For a breathless moment, her vision flickered. Every sensation became hypersensitive—even Tae-beom’s breath against her neck felt electric, causing her entire body to tremble uncontrollably.

“Ah… ah…”

Though Tae-beom hadn’t yet reached his own climax, his body remained firmly connected to hers. With remarkable tenderness, he traced her back, waiting patiently as the intense waves of her pleasure gradually subsided. His touch was both possessive and remarkably gentle—a contradiction that seemed to define their entire encounter.

Her first intimate experience. Her first…