Chapter Text
The room felt thick, saturated with the milky sweetness of a new life—a living proof of their shared tranquility. Yet, that serenity fractured as Jihoon’s presence began to bleed into the air.
He buried his face against Sanghyeok’s chest, nuzzling with a predatory persistence. Sanghyeok had assumed that after childbirth, his entire being would be consumed by motherhood—but his hormones had treacherous intentions. Wherever Jihoon’s scorching breath bled into his skin, dormant nerves flared awake in a violent, aching pulse.
“Ha—ngh… Jihoon, no… That’s… that’s for the baby…”
Sanghyeok’s trembling hands tried to push at Jihoon’s solid shoulders, but his arms—still weakened by childbirth—held no real strength. Jihoon only seemed faintly amused by the resistance. Instead of retreating, he slid his arm around Sanghyeok’s waist and drew him closer.
“He’s full… now it’s all mine.”
He lifted his head, meeting Sanghyeok’s eyes. His voice was soft—almost tender—but his gaze burned with unmistakable possessiveness.
His large palm closed around Sanghyeok’s swollen, flushed breast. At the gentle pressure, milk beaded and spilled, sliding helplessly across the back of Jihoon’s hand.
“Still leaking… huh, hyung? Just let me take care of it.”
His tone was coaxing, deceptively gentle, as he pressed against every fragile weakness in Sanghyeok’s defenses. Then, without hesitation, he lowered his mouth to the reddened peak and drew it slowly between his lips.
“Ah—! Ngh—!”
Each deliberate sweep of Jihoon’s tongue over the sensitive bud made Sanghyeok’s toes curl. What should have been a sacred, maternal sensation—feeding his child—twisted under Jihoon’s mouth into something undeniably carnal. The unfamiliar pull at his breast forced Sanghyeok’s head back as a rough breath tore from his throat.
“Jihoon—ah… mm! Not so hard—gently… ha, ngh—!”
His fingers tangled in Jihoon’s hair, gripping tightly as his hips arched of their own accord. Only moments ago, he had been “mother,” cradling his baby and offering nourishment. Now, beneath Jihoon’s relentless attention, he was reduced to something else entirely—an omega unraveling helplessly, craving pleasure he knew he shouldn’t.
His breasts, milk ducts still wide and sensitive from nursing, had grown almost unbearably reactive. Even the slightest brush sent sharp jolts through him. Every time Jihoon’s heated tongue traced slowly around the aching peak, Sanghyeok curled inward, trembling as electric shivers cascaded down his spine.
When Jihoon swallowed with a low, satisfied sound, warmth pooled between Sanghyeok’s thighs in thick, humiliating waves. The sheets beneath them were already damp, overwhelmed by the evidence of his body’s betrayal.
The air grew dense—sweet with milk and new life, yet undercut by something raw and musky. Jihoon finally pulled back, eyes dark as he took in Sanghyeok’s undone state.
“Look at you, hyung. Milk from above… and soaked below.”
A faint smear of white lingered at the corner of Jihoon’s mouth. The sight alone sent heat rushing to Sanghyeok’s face. He turned away, mind caught between shame and dizzying pleasure.
Jihoon’s gaze traveled downward—over the milk-slicked skin of his chest, lower still between his thighs where his arousal glistened unmistakably. Sensing that intent, Sanghyeok tried to curl in on himself, but Jihoon was quicker.
He lifted Sanghyeok’s legs over his shoulders in one smooth motion. Exposed to the cool air, Sanghyeok’s heat trembled, slick and sensitive.
“It’s a mess down here. What am I supposed to do with a mother who’s this turned on… and dripping for me?”
The low murmur stripped away what little dignity Sanghyeok clung to.
“Ah… don’t look… it’s embarrassing…”
He squeezed his eyes shut, but Jihoon only tightened his grip, spreading him wider before lowering his head.
The first brush of hot breath between his thighs made Sanghyeok gasp sharply.
“Ah—! Jihoon, not there—!”
Jihoon’s tongue traced through every sensitive fold, unhurried and thorough. The wet sounds filled the quiet room, intimate and obscene in equal measure. Each slow, deliberate movement sent pleasure splintering through Sanghyeok’s body. Heat coiled low in his belly, tightening steadily until thought itself blurred.
“Jihoon—ah—there… you can’t—!”
"Hyung, are you already about to come? I’m just getting started." Jihoon murmured against him.
When his mouth sealed firmly around the most yielding part of him and drew deeply, Sanghyeok arched with a silent cry. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes—not from sorrow, but from sheer overload. Every fragment of thought drowned beneath relentless sensation.
When he finally collapsed bonelessly into the mattress, Jihoon straightened, lips glistening.
“Should we… make another one?” he murmured lightly, “Just you and me… our first won’t be lonely.”
“Jihoon—what are you—ah—!”
He never finished. Jihoon guided himself forward, entering in one slow, decisive thrust. Sanghyeok’s body—softer, more sensitive after pregnancy and birth—yielded with a broken sound.
At the same time, a sharp, sympathetic ache pulsed through his chest. Milk spilled again in a sudden rush, streaking across Jihoon’s skin.
“Ah… I can’t—!”
Closing his eyes did nothing to shield him from the honesty of his own body. Though his lips formed weak protests, his inner walls clung instinctively, drawing Jihoon deeper.
“You keep saying no,” Jihoon breathed near his ear, moving in slow, deliberate rhythm, “but you’re holding on so tight.”
Each word sent another blinding spark through him. After childbirth, every sensation felt magnified—every shift, every pulse of heat overwhelming.
He couldn’t bring himself to ask for more. Instead, he clung tighter around Jihoon’s neck. The silent invitation was clearer than words.
“Hyung,” Jihoon whispered, rolling his hips teasingly, skimming past the most sensitive place instead of striking it directly. “Say it.”
The friction drove him nearly mad. Too embarrassed to speak, Sanghyeok wrapped his legs tighter, pulling him in.
“God, Jihoon… please…”
Another pulse surged through him, milk spilling again in warm streams. Above and below, his body responded shamelessly to every calculated movement.
As if answering that unspoken plea, Jihoon lowered his mouth to his chest once more. At the same time, he thrust deeply, burying himself fully.
The dual sensation shattered him.
Pleasure speared through his entire body. His head fell back, voice breaking.
“Jihoon… I’m losing it… don’t stop…”
The words slipped free before he could stop them.
Jihoon’s rhythm grew faster, rougher. Each thrust jolted him, sending shocks racing up his spine. Milk streamed unchecked down his chest and along his collarbones, white against flushed skin.
Driven by the sight of him—flushed, trembling, utterly undone—Jihoon gripped his hips and drove forward with final intensity.
The release tore through Sanghyeok like lightning. Warmth flooded him from within, overwhelming and complete. His body seized around Jihoon instinctively, clinging even in the aftermath.
At the same moment, milk surged once more, spilling over both of them.
When it was over, Sanghyeok lay trembling, eyes unfocused, breath shallow.
Later, in the deep quiet of night, after the baby had been put to sleep, the bedroom had transformed into something sacred—and decadently intimate.
He no longer tried to push Jihoon away as he burrowed against his chest. Instead, he guided him closer, fingers threading gently through his hair, holding him like a precious possession.
If nursing their child was duty and love, offering his chest to Jihoon had become a secret, intoxicating surrender—his body entirely claimed, his senses drowned in need.
Jihoon responded with relentless hunger, taking Sanghyeok’s breast with a rough, greedy precision. Stray beads of white milk glistened along his lips, a messy, undeniable mark of possession. Every hard tug and suck sent tremors through Sanghyeok’s lower core, clenching instinctively around Jihoon, craving him with reflexive need.
For a heartbeat, Jihoon lifted his head and pressed his lips to Sanghyeok’s, sharing the sharp, sweet taste of milk between them. Sanghyeok didn’t pull away; instead, he wrapped his hands around Jihoon’s neck, greedily drinking in the mix of saliva and milk his husband offered, as if trying to swallow him whole.
Completely filled above and below by Jihoon, Sanghyeok felt his mind dissolve under the overwhelming fullness. When Jihoon thrust deep again, nudging at the very core of him with slow, deliberate pressure, Sanghyeok left deep, ragged scratches along Jihoon’s back, a silent testament to the intensity and desperation of the pleasure.