Face turned to the side on the damp pillow, lips parted slightly, cheeks still flushed and tear-streaked, abdomen rounded softly from the sheer volume inside him. The tally marks on his lower stomach been crossed personally by him before he became like this.
Yoon Seoyul stayed locked inside him—knot still thick, still pulsing faintly—arms wrapped protectively around Cheon Areum's limp form. He pressed slow, protective kisses to the nape of Cheon Areum's neck, over the cluster of bite marks that now bloomed red and purple like a constellation of possession.
"Five… you took them all."
