Chapter 173: Deep Kiss (2)

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The quiet hospital room where the two of them sat.

One of them trembled, her lips, brimming with frustration.

‘This is too much.’

To stoke the flames so high, to make her want it—only to cut her off.

Her lips still burned from the earlier heat, aching with longing.

Riley quietly wiped his mouth, as if to say, “Speak now, or I’ll leave.” He looked ready to rise from the bed at any moment.

Sugar curled her toes, gripping the bedsheet tightly. It was unbearable—why did he always force the words out of her mouth?

His smug dominance irritated her.

‘I’m the one indulging you. It’s only because it’s you that I’m allowing this…’

Did he think he was something special? That brat needed to stay in his place.

“Ugh…”

As she hid her face, sulking, a hand gently approached—caressing her cheek, then her chin, soothing her while pressing for one thing.

“Sugar.”

He wanted it just as badly. He longed to pin her small frame down and take what he pleased.

Yet he deliberately held back, waiting for her to voice those shameless desires.

‘How am I supposed to say that…? How do you expect me to say it to you…?’

Even asking for his mark had been a struggle, driven by jealousy and pent-up frustration. Now, with her composure somewhat regained, the words wouldn’t come.

The guilt alone was maddening—to see her childhood friend, the little brother she’d cherished, as an object of desire. And yet, he offered his hand, as if inviting her to dive deeper into sin.

Why couldn’t they just lose themselves in the moment? Why force her to acknowledge it, to think?

Between her fingers, she stole a glance at him.

His brows were slightly furrowed, but the corners of his lips curled faintly. His gaze, drunk with hunger, bore down on her.

He was enjoying this—her shame, her torment, her struggle.

He was waiting for the moment Sugar would willingly shed her role.

Twisted.

Thoroughly tangled.

His eyes brimmed with honey-sweet, tar-black affection, leaving her too helpless to even protest.

That look—one reserved only for her—was intoxicating.

Sugar stared back dazedly, lowering the hand hiding her face to meet his eyes.

“Ah…”

Riley seized that hand, interlacing their fingers. With only one hand left to cover herself, she hid behind her hair instead.

“If you don’t say it, I’ll take it as a no.”

As he brushed her hair aside, urging her, Sugar clenched their joined hands—a silent plea for patience.

“Riley…”

“Yeah.”

“I… I want…”

Her lips pressed tight, then parted slightly, quivering before opening fully.

Fidgeting, she froze when he leaned closer, setting the mood.

Sugar squeezed her eyes shut.

“I… want to kiss you.”

Their lips crashed together instantly.

The honey of victory tasted unbearably sweet—and bitter.

She’d lost. Lost again. Surrendered to her desires, betrayed every role she’d upheld for Riley.

‘Just for now… Just for this moment.’

Unable to deny it, she set a mental limit—a flimsy attempt to cling to reason.

‘You’re impossible. Look what you’ve made me become.’

Blaming him to escape her shame, she gripped his shoulders as the brief kiss ended.

“…”

“…”

His blue eyes questioned her. The moment she’d dreaded had arrived.

And so, the woman confessed her desire.

A sticky, sinful blend of guilt, lust, and fluttering affection.

“…I want… to taste you.”

Their lips met again.

Neither waited—tongues sliding out in unison.

At last, the two fleshy tips rubbed together, eager and desperate.

Slowly.

Smooth yet slightly rough surfaces grinding together, wet sounds filling the air.

A deep kiss, something she’d never experienced even in past lives. Her first thought?

‘Was a tongue always this sensitive?’

Just the slow friction alone sent shivers down her spine, as if every nerve was being traced. She felt like she might dissolve.

They licked each other’s lips, sucked on tongues, melted together—swallowing the mingled saliva with greedy gulps.

“Mnh… Hah…”

“Haah…”

Testing, exploring, they broke apart only to collide again. This time, Riley’s tongue invaded deeper, claiming her mouth as if to devour her.

“…!”

Sugar startled but didn’t resist. Dazed, she flicked her tongue weakly as that warm muscle mapped every crevice. Then Riley adjusted his grip on her chin, pushing further in.

“Nngh… ah… hng…”

Teasing the roof of her mouth, stroking the underside of her tongue—

“…Stick your tongue out.”

When she obeyed, Riley sucked it between his lips, and Sugar’s eyelids fluttered.

‘Sweet…’

Whose saliva was this sugary? Or was it her melting into him? A foolish thought—until she rolled her eyes upward and met his gaze.

Their tongues tangled, their stares locked. Too embarrassing to escape.

Eyes fixed, unmoving, while their tongues writhed violently. Breaths mixed, saliva merged, man and woman blurred.

‘Good… feels so good…’

This, at least, she refused to deny. Sugar always dismissed the pleasure he gave her—”I hate it,” “It’s weird,” “Stop”—but the kiss, she wanted to accept honestly.

Why? Why did she want to keep kissing sacred?

Dazed, she swallowed the drool he spilled into her mouth.

When he tried to retreat, her tongue chased instinctively. Don’t go yet. Let’s stay like this.

She rubbed against his tongue, teasing, and Riley laughed—adorably, loving it—before reciprocating.

Ticklish. Melting. Becoming one.

Sugar mirrored him, copying what he’d done: licking the roof of his mouth, the seam under his tongue, every crevice with her tiny licks.

An unconscious claim.

He stiffened briefly… then yielded.

‘Cute. Even rigid Riley has weak spots.’

Hah. So you’re not so unshakable after all.

‘Is this how he reacts when I take charge?’

She’d have to test that theory later.

“Nngh… pfah…”

“Hah…”

A break, after devouring each other.

Even during kisses, they’d breathed—but with their noses close and movements frantic, the air ran thin. Gasping came naturally.

Red-faced, they gulped oxygen. A sticky thread of saliva stretched between their lips, a blatant testament to what they’d done.

Sugar averted her eyes.

“More?”

“…More.”

Her answer was immediate.

The white hospital room, faintly sterile. Sunlight through the curtains cast a hazy glow as the two climbed onto the bed together.

Silence ended. Indulgence resumed.

They clung, each demanding more from the other.

‘Ah…’

A vague thought surfaced.

Through the heat and dizziness, it struck her:

How must this look to outsiders?

‘This is…’

She squeezed her eyes shut.

No one would mistake us for family or friends.

***************

“You could stay and sleep here.”

“…No.”

“Why?”

“Busy. I need to go.”

“Then I’ll come.”

“No. It’s girls-only talk.”

She sipped cold water, feigning aloofness. After all that, now she was prickly.

No—not all. Today ended with just kissing. Just tongues.

The aftermath left her restless. She gulped more water.

“So, jealous boys should stay here and nap.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Hmph!”

Sugar snorted, set down the cup, and stood.

“Oh, right. One thing.”

“What?”

“Remember that white stone I gave you before?”

“I do.”

From their shared inn stay, handed to him in the bathroom. Now a prized piece of his “Sugar Collection.”

“There’s a place I want to test it. Can I borrow it?”

“Later. It’s stored separately.”

“Fine.”

With that, she left the room.

Muttering about her schedule, she trudged back to her quarters.

‘First, change my underwear.’

***************

There was a memory she didn’t want to recall.

One she tried to forget, to bury—but the moment she lingered on it, it surged back violently.

For Ian, it was the memory of her mother’s death. Even as a child, it was seared into her mind.

The coughing, the fever. Priests with grave expressions coming and going.

‘Ian…’

—Cough, cough.

She remembered how her mother’s voice had been interrupted by hacking breaths.

‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’

‘Mother…’

‘Ah… Ione is still… You’re both too young…’

She recalled herself sobbing uncontrollably—and her sister, who didn’t shed a single tear, yet clutched their mother’s hand like a vise.

‘You’ll get better… Hic… You have to… Sob… It’s just a cold…’

She remembered her mother silently stroking her cheek as she cried.

Those violet eyes. Platinum hair. A face pale as parchment.

Days passed like that.

Ian attended the funeral dressed in men’s clothing.

And her sister? She donned a veil and became the most revered figure in the world.

.
.
.

Looking back, it was never just a cold. No one ever told her the exact cause.

Yet now, with her only sister collapsed from a cold, those old memories resurfaced.

Her body trembled with fear. She’d rushed to Ione’s side, begging—”Are you okay? Please, don’t leave me too.”

But unlike yesterday, Ian’s expression today was unreadable.

‘I shouldn’t have said anything…’

Sullen, she headed toward Ione’s room—until a whisper-soft voice called from behind.

“Ian.”

She turned to see Sugar waving, her tone familiar.

“Are you visiting the Saintess now?”

Ian held a damp cloth and what looked like congee. At her nod, Sugar brightened.

“Mind if I join?”

“No. Stay here.”

“Aw, c’mon! I won’t catch anything. And, um…”

Her hesitation gave her away. Ian smirked.

“I’m curious if you two made up yet.”

“…Dunno.”

An evasive answer. Sugar pouted.

Somehow, they ended up entering Ione’s room together.

An unusual space—pentagonal, with massive windows on every wall. Just a bed, a chair.

Austere.

“…”

“…”

Sugar glanced around. The silence was thick.

Ione, sick but hiding her eyes under an arm. Ian pressing a cold cloth to her forehead.

Not a word between them. Ione was always quiet, but Ian? This was weird.

“Um… Lady Ione. Are you feeling better?”

A slight nod. The cloth slid off.

“Stay still.” Ian hissed, replacing it.

Ione turned her head away. The cloth fell again. Ian replaced it.

Ione turned the other way. The cloth fell. Ian replaced it.

Then Ione flopped facedown.

The cloth plopped, soaking the pillow.

“…”

“…”

A bizarre tension.

Sugar swallowed hard.

‘These two… are something else.’