3.2 Forgive-Me-Not(2)

If I keep this up, I might lose my mind before I manage to split that bastard's skull open. Feeling a sense of crisis, Hyeon squeezed his eyes shut. Even if it hurt, it couldn't be worse than having his insides shredded like rags by thorns. Just as he tried to force his finger into the narrow, dry opening, Mikhail suddenly supported Hyeon's back, shifting his weight lightly to push Hyeon down until he was lying on his back, facing the ceiling. Before Hyeon could react, Mikhail gripped the back of his left knee and slid a pillow from the corner of the bed beneath his waist.

“Wait, what are you—!”

By the time Hyeon fully processed the situation, Mikhail's disheveled blond hair had already descended deep between his thighs. Immediately after, a soft, warm tongue touched the tightly closed folds. The tip of the tongue, soft yet pointed, soon pried its way into the narrow gap.