Chapter 74
The air inside the pavilion had long since lost its crisp, winter edge, replaced by a sweltering, heavy atmosphere that tasted of cedarwood and unadulterated desperation. The silence of the secluded hilltop was now a distant memory, drowned out by the rhythmic, frantic sounds of two bodies colliding in the dim, amber glow. Their tongues danced together in an agonizingly hungry ritual that was rapidly shedding its initial gentleness, turning into something more primal- something more brutal.
Raiven turned his head, tilting it to find a deeper, more punishing angle for the kiss, while Haru's hands clung to the back of his neck with a white-knuckled grip. Haru felt as though he were vibrating, his nerves frayed to the point of snapping.
The truth was a heavy weight in his mind: he hadn't had any real release since that blurred, high-stakes night in Milan. In the months of agonizing distance that followed, he had tried to handle the mounting tension himself, but it had felt hollow - a pale imitation of the electricity Raiven generated. After only a couple of half-hearted attempts, he had simply stopped altogether. He had retreated into a monk-like austerity, dealing with the persistent, gnawing urges by taking bone-chillingly cold showers and shoving his desires into the furthest, darkest corners of his mind. It was a strategy of suppression he had mastered as Sunghoon, a way to maintain control.
But now, the debt was being called in. The dam he had built with such meticulous care had finally burst, and the floodwaters were catching up to him with a vengeance that made his head swim.
Haru groaned into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that vibrated deep in his chest. His fingers threaded through Raiven's messy blue hair, tightening, pulling him closer as if he could physically draw the other man's strength into his own. Despite the internal war still raging in his soul, he could not deny the simple, devastating fact that this felt amazing. His body felt like it was on fire, each movement of Raiven's lips and hands stoking the flames until he was ready to be consumed. He allowed himself to stop fighting.
He felt Raiven's hands move downward, finding the waistband of his jeans. There was no hesitation, only a clean, practiced technique that spoke of a confidence Haru found both arousing and slightly intimidating. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, the realization that Raiven was experienced, that he had likely moved like this with others before ,but Haru ruthlessly suppressed it. He didn't want to think about the people who came before him. He only wanted to relish the person in front of him, the man currently on a singular mission to destroy every ounce of Haru's willpower.
Raiven's hands worked with a frantic grace, pulling down Haru's jeans and boxers until his hard, aching member was freed. The sudden contact of the air was immediately replaced by the searing heat of Raiven's palm. Then, Haru felt something else - the friction of skin against skin that wasn't just a hand.
He moaned at the realization, his eyes fluttering shut as Raiven smiled against his lips before finally breaking the kiss. Raiven shifted his focus, his mouth finding the sensitive, flushed skin of Haru's neck. He began a slow, deliberate assault of kisses and sharp, possessive nips.
Raiven was beyond happy. The sound of Haru moaning beneath him - the raw, unfiltered vulnerability of a man usually so guarded the past few weeks.- was a drug more potent than any fame. He wanted to hear him scream; he wanted to watch him squirm and unravel until his throat went sore from the effort. In this secluded hanok, with miles of cold forest acting as their fortress, Raiven felt a possessive triumph. He had fought for this. He had crossed oceans for this.
His hand closed around both their pulsing members, his grip firm and sure. He began to pump slowly, a rhythmic motion that forced their sensitive skins to rub against one another.
Haru's eyes flew open, his breath hitching in a series of jagged gasps. The sensations running through his body were too much, too fast. It had truly been too long. Even a simple touch felt like being pushed off a cliff into a free fall. He leaned back into the pillows, his spine arching off the mattress as he sought more contact desperately.
Raiven didn't let up. He continued to mark Haru's neck, his teeth grazing the skin in a way that guaranteed visible evidence of the night. His hand moved faster now, slick with the precum that already coated their tips. The intimacy of the act , the shared fluid, the shared rhythm, made Haru feel as though he were suffocating in the best possible way. He panted heavily, his vision blurring as the world narrowed down to the sensation of Raiven's hand and the weight of his body.
" I missed you so much," Raiven moaned, his voice cracking with a desperation he normally kept buried.
He increased the pace, his movements becoming more urgent. He shifted, straddling Haru's hips so he could watch from above. He wanted to see the exact moment Haru broke. He wanted to witness the climax of the man underneath him.
When it happened, Raiven felt his heart perform a dizzying flip. Haru's body went rigid, a series of tremors racking his frame as he climaxed with a silent, open-mouthed sob of pleasure. The sheer intensity of it seemed to shock him, his eyes wide and vacant as his life force pooled between them, staining their clothes in a messy, human declaration of surrender. Raiven followed suit almost immediately, the sight of Haru's undoing being the final trigger he needed. He collapsed against Haru's chest, both of them gasping for air in the sudden silence of the room.
But Raiven wasn't satisfied. The physical release had only served to whet his appetite for something deeper, something more permanent. He wanted more.
He sat up, his eyes dark and hungry as they trained on Haru, who was watching him in a dazed, post-coital stupor. Haru looked beautiful - flushed, wrecked, and utterly his. Raiven stood up from the bed, and Haru's eyes followed his every move, unsure of what was coming next. Raiven methodically stripped away the rest of Haru's clothes, then his own, his movements rushed and fueled by the heavy weight of Haru's gaze.
When he returned to the bed, he hovered over Haru, his muscles taut. He locked eyes with him, the amber light catching the intensity in his gaze. Slowly, he helped Haru remove his shirt, his hands lingering on his ribs, his shoulders, memorizing the texture of his skin.
"I want you," Raiven growled. It was a low, rasping sound that carried the weight of a command and a plea.
Haru knew exactly what he was asking. This was the threshold. Raiven was asking for permission to go further than they ever had - to cross the final boundary of intimacy. If Haru were in his right mind he would have stopped this. But his body was still humming from the climax, his judgment jagged and fractured like broken glass. He looked up at the man who had become his undoing.
Slowly, Haru reached up, his fingers curling around Raiven's neck, pulling him down. It was a silent, definitive permission.
Raiven melted into the kiss, a soft sound of triumph escaping him. He pulled Haru further up on the bed, settling him against a pile of soft pillows. He broke away for a moment, reaching toward the nightstand to produce a small kit - condoms and lube.
Haru felt a sharp, sudden spike of both anticipation and deep-seated caution. In the 90s, this wasn't something spoken about, and certainly not something he had ever experienced. He had done his research - the late-night searches on his laptop that Se-hee had teased, but watching or reading about it was vastly different from the reality. He knew it could be painful. He knew he hadn't prepared. For a moment, a wave of insecurity washed over him, making his muscles tense.
"It's fine. I will take care of everything,"
Raiven whispered, noting the flicker of fear in Haru's eyes. He pressed a brief, reassuring kiss to Haru's lips, his voice steady and calming.
Raiven's touch was slow and clinical yet incredibly tender. He applied the lube, the coldness of the gel making Haru squirm and let out a sharp breath. The contrast between the cold liquid and the heated ro was a jolt to his system.
If I were still Yeon-woo, would I be the one leading? The thought flashed through his mind, unbidden. He realized he didn't even know how it worked for others. He remembered the embarrassment of Se-hee catching him looking up "prep guides" on his tablet, her teasing voice telling him it was normal, even sharing that she'd watched videos of it herself she even suggested which site was good. At the time, he'd wanted to vanish from the face of the earth. Now, he was grateful for the fragments of knowledge.
He felt Raiven's finger press against him, a slow, tentative entry that made him whimper. He arched his back, his hands clutching the sheets as his body tried to process the foreign sensation. He flashed back to Milan - the heavy tension in that hotel suite, the way Raiven had touched him then. They really had done so much in that hotel, a prelude to this very night.
Raiven moved with excruciating patience. He slid his finger out, then back in, stretching the muscles with a focus that was entirely centered on Haru's comfort. He did it several times, his other hand stroking Haru's thigh to keep him grounded, before he finally added a second finger.
Haru let out a long, shuddering groan. The feeling was bizarre - a mixture of fullness and a strange, internal pressure that made his head loll back against the pillows.
The New Year had begun, and as Haru looked up at the ceiling of the traditional pavilion, he realized there was no going back. He was drowning in the cedarwood scent, drowning in Raiven's care, and for the first time in two lifetimes, he stopped trying to swim for the shore.