Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 2:The Raiders (8) (M)

The hand holding mine was so large that it completely covered my own, with room to spare. Our fingers intertwined, and I could feel the pronounced veins on the back of his hand with my fingertips—a feature long gone, erased by the evolving standards of beauty.

Come to think of it, there were so many differences between the man and me. Could a single factor—his existence as a human from a millennium ago—account for such stark disparities?

I shifted my gaze upward, looking at the man who loomed over me, his body completely covering mine. Despite the way he enveloped me, his weight didn’t feel oppressive. If anything, the pressure was strangely comforting, as though I welcomed it.

Creaaak—

“[Damn, your skin just won’t let me go. It’s making it hard to hold back,]”

As the man pulled his hips back, the slick fluids clung persistently to him, refusing to let go. To make it worse—or perhaps better—the walls within me gripped tightly, as if unwilling to let him withdraw.

“Ah—”

Despite his movements being slow and gentle, my body responded with dissatisfaction, leaving me overwhelmed by its confusing reactions. Unsure of how to handle it, I bit down on my lower lip. Noticing this, the man lowered his head and softly sucked on my lip before releasing it, his touch soothing yet teasing.

“[Why do you keep holding on?]”

His breath, hot and heavy with heat, brushed against my lips, making them burn even more. His low, restrained voice, as if holding something back, made me pout involuntarily.

“Why… won’t you do more?”

“[Why are you looking at me like that? You’re making it seem like you’re desperate.]”

“Is it because… I ran away…?”

“Sigh. “[Why are you crying? Hm? I’m already holding myself back, but if you cry so beautifully like that—]”

Even though my walls, melting and trembling, were eagerly anticipating the next wave of pleasure, he moved torturously slow, as if to tease me. It wasn’t that it felt bad—he was deep inside, hitting all the right spots—but it still felt like something was missing.

“[You’re making me want to make you cry more,]” he murmured with a smirk.

“Please… more.”

I cautiously lifted my upper body, feeling my core engage as the motion caused my inner walls to tighten and grip him more firmly, bending him within me. Just as he had bitten my lip moments ago, I followed the rhythm of his breath and bit his lips lightly. The rough stubble that had grown on his face pricked against mine.

His eyes widened, startled, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just done. Every time I initiated something, he seemed genuinely surprised, wearing that same expression.

“[…Damn it, when you make that face, I can’t hold back.]”

Thud!

My body jolted as he thrust his hips down mercilessly, pressing me against the blanket beneath us and sliding me backward slightly with the force.

“―!”

The pressure of him striking deep against my womb made my back arch involuntarily. My grip on his hand tightened as if to anchor myself. His firm chest pressed down on my softer body, the peaks of my sensitive nipples rubbing against him with every movement he made.

“Ah, ah…!”

The sounds escaping me were less like moans and more like reflexive gasps, forced out by the overwhelming stimulation. My hips hovered, unable to settle back down, leaving me gasping for breath.

The man above me looked down, his gaze intense, before closing the small gap between us, his face drawing nearer.

He devoured my fragmented moans, claiming even my breath as if determined to consume every part of me. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with an intensity that left no space untouched. It reached further than ever before, delving into depths it hadn’t before, filling my mouth completely.

I flinched, my body trembling, and the man paused. Sensing his hesitation and the slight retreat of his movements, I hurriedly released my grip on his hand and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, pulling him back toward me.

He responded by gathering my disheveled hair with one hand, his grip firm, holding my head in place. The pleasure coursing through me felt overwhelming, reverberating through my body and leaving me breathless.

Lifting one of my legs over his shoulder, he thrust deeply, relentlessly driving himself into me. The lewd sound of fluids squelched between us, sticking to our lower bodies.

The overlapping waves of pleasure blurred my senses, making it hard to think. Unlike before, there was no trace of pain—only intense, consuming pleasure that seemed to drown out everything else as he plunged mercilessly into my depths. My mind teetered on the edge, overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensations.

I clung to his neck, unable to support myself anymore, as helpless sobs spilled from my lips. Even as he reached the deepest part of me, where nothing more seemed possible, he pushed further, relentlessly driving himself into my body as if there were no limits.

Each time his force caused my body to slide backward, he caught my waist firmly, pulling me back to meet his thrusts with unyielding intensity.

“Ah, ahh… ngh, haaah…!”

The moment his lips pulled away, a long-suppressed moan escaped me as though it had been waiting. My face was already streaked with tears, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the relentless pleasure. The man looked down at me, his lips curling into a honeyed smile as he took in my tear-streaked face.

“N-no, no… stop, ah… haaah!”

As I collapsed face-down, my body trembling uncontrollably from head to toe, he flipped me back into position and pulled me into his arms. With a heavy, rhythmic force, he drove himself into me, each thrust carrying the full weight of his body.

The deep, aching pressure inside me made my nails dig into his forearms, which framed my face and supported his weight. My fingertips dragged down his skin, leaving faint red scratches.

“[What? Do you need something to hold onto?]”

He chuckled darkly, guiding my hands up to his shoulders. As I clung to him, more cries spilled from my lips, my voice broken by the intensity of his movements. The sweat-slicked, earthy tone of his skin glistened faintly in the dim light, now marked with the crimson streaks my nails had left.

Despite the obvious pain those scratches should have caused, he showed no reaction, moving his hips with the same deliberate intensity, as though pain meant nothing to him.

“Ahh, ahhh! Haaah!”

His arms tightened around me like chains, holding me firmly in place as my legs dangled uselessly in the air, unable to wrap around his broad waist.

Hot breaths brushed against my ear, the lewd sound of his tongue flicking and licking filling the space around us, invading my ears and seeping into my mind. The sensation was so overwhelming that it felt like my brain might melt.

“Hic… hiiiih…!”

A deep, low chuckle resonated near my ear as if mocking my pitiful moans. His tongue grazed every corner of my ear, teasing and probing, as if determined to find every last weak spot. The explicit, deliberate movement sent me gasping for air, as though I might suffocate under the intensity of it all.

My ears were filled with the coarse sounds of his labored breathing, the slick, wet noises of our entwined bodies, and the sharp smacking of skin against skin. My nose, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by the pungent mixture of scents—his seed lingering in the air, mingling with the sour musk of our fervent coupling.

“Hhic… ngh!”

My mind felt like it was slipping further away. Trembling, I gasped and let out a choked sob, my tears spilling freely. The heat building within me had no other escape but through the trails of tears running down my cheeks, their paths burning with the feverish heat of my body.

“K-Khan… s-stop… please, ah, stop… haah!”

“[That’s not it,]”

The man pulled back slightly, his fingertips grazing my trembling lips as if to soothe my desperate pleas. His upper body straightened, and with it, the intense rhythm came to a halt. Even though the stimulation had stopped, my body continued to shiver in the cold air, trembling uncontrollably.

“[Haa—]”

He brushed his disheveled hair back, letting out a low sigh. His gaze, momentarily lost in the air, slowly shifted back to me, sprawled weakly atop the blanket.

“[You were calling for me, and yes, you’re right to call me that.]”

He reached out, catching my trembling hand as it fell limply to the floor, drained of strength. Tugging me toward him, he placed my hand once more around his neck, guiding me to hold him.

“[Temüjin (鐵木眞).]”

“Ugh, d-don’t move… ah, hngh!”

The thing filling me to my limit seemed to wriggle even deeper, pressing into spaces I didn’t know existed.

“[Temüjin.]”

The man gripped my hips firmly, pinning me in place, and repeated the word with deliberate emphasis. As he pressed against my cervix, rubbing with calculated movements, I cried out sharply, my back arching involuntarily.

“[Say it. Hmm? Te. Mü. Jin.]”

“Hngh… Te… Temüjin?”

“[That’s right.]”

As I repeated the word deliberately, calling out “Temüjin,” the man gently rolled his hips and reached out to lift my chin. Through my tear-blurred vision, his sharp, golden eyes gleamed with intensity.

“Temüjin—”

“[That’s right.]”

He smiled wide, the corners of his lips curling in a carefree and satisfied grin, before planting a light kiss on my lips.

“Temüjin…?”

“[That’s right.]”

Hearing him affirm it again, I realized that the word referred to him—his name. So “Khan” wasn’t his name after all? Or perhaps it was simply a title, as I had suspected, a term used to address someone of higher rank.

“[No one calls me by my name anymore, but I can’t have my celestial maiden—my wife—addressing me like everyone else, can I?]”

The man’s hearty laugh echoed through the space, and as his lips parted, I caught a fleeting glimpse of sharp canines before they disappeared again.

“[So, what’s the name of my lovely celestial maiden?]”

He lightly tapped his fingers against my chest, prompting me. From the way he repeated his own name, “Temüjin,” and then asked something of me, it was clear what he wanted to know.

“….”

It was the first time anyone in this place had asked for my name. Most people here referred to me as “Semuren,” a term that simply meant “foreigner” or “outsider.”

When I didn’t answer right away, the man stroked my waist softly, the touch tickling and stirring a faint, aching sensation that made me flinch. My walls reflexively tightened around him, drawing a pleased chuckle from him.

“[Even if you don’t act so adorably, I’ll still adore you. Don’t rush me.]”

With a laugh, he cupped my hips firmly, eliciting a small sound from me.

“Ugh…”

“[So, what’s your name? Hmm?]”

As he peppered light kisses across my eyelids, urging me gently, my lips finally moved.

“…Yeojin.”

“[I’ve heard that foreigners use names different from ours. Is it because you’re a celestial maiden? Hm, it’s not too hard to pronounce.]”

He repeated my name a few times, his hand stroking his chin thoughtfully as though committing it to memory. Then he turned back to look at me with a curious expression.

“[Yeojin.]”

Hearing my name come from his lips felt strange—like hearing it for the first time in this unfamiliar world.

“[It sounds similar to the names here.]”

It was peculiar. This man was supposed to be a conqueror, an invader… yet why did he seem so curious, even tender?

As I stared at him, lost in thought, he murmured something in his low voice, breaking my train of thought.

“[Do you have letters, too? Hm.]”

Suddenly, he released me from his arms and sat me upright. Without hesitation, he draped three layers of clothing over my shoulders to cover me, then began rummaging around the space in haste.

Confused by his abrupt actions, I could only fumble with the clothes, still sticky and unkempt, as I watched him with wide eyes.

Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for. He brought over crisp sheets of white paper, a brush, and an inkstone, placing them in front of me.

“…?”

He quickly ground the ink and dipped the brush, his movements excited and slightly hurried. I sat there in a daze, unsure of what he was doing, and simply watched as he began writing something on the paper.

鐵木眞

The bold strokes of the Chinese characters written by the man were sturdy and rigid, much like his own demeanor. He turned the paper toward me and pointed.

“[Temüjin.]”

Iron (鐵), wood (木), truth (眞).

He pronounced each character carefully, pointing them out one by one, before sliding the brush and paper toward me, wordlessly asking me to do the same. Even without a shared language, his intent was clear.

I glanced at the brush in my hand, the paper on the floor, and then back at the man sitting across from me. He tilted his head slightly, encouraging me with his gaze.

Hesitant, I awkwardly placed the tip of the brush on the paper and began to write.

尹 麗眞

Unlike him, I separated my surname (尹) from my given name (麗眞). I hesitated briefly between using Hangul or Chinese characters, but given the context of this place, I opted for Chinese.

“[Yin… Lijin?]”

He pronounced it with what I assumed was this world’s accent. I lowered my gaze to the two names written side by side. Though both had three characters, the spacing I used made my writing distinct, while his bold and imposing characters dominated the page. Despite the stylistic differences, the final strokes of our shared character, 眞, lined up neatly, as if signifying a connection.

Even though it was the same character, the difference in writing was stark. His strokes were sharp and angular, with strong lines cutting decisively across the paper, exuding power. In contrast, mine were rounded and soft, almost hesitant, with no harsh edges.

“[So, you have Chinese characters here too.]”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, his fingers smudged with ink. Watching his serious expression, with ink smudging his stern face, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

Here we were, both sitting cross-legged, still unclothed, hastily draped in layers of robes, and surrounded by scattered papers and inkstones. His obliviousness to the ink smudged on his chin only made the scene more absurd.

My giggles caught his attention, and I looked up to meet his gaze, sharp and intense. His golden eyes widened slightly, as if caught off guard, before narrowing in curiosity. His expression made me quickly stifle my laughter and press my lips together.

“[…Elegant and true.]”

He repeated the meaning of my name, his voice low and reverent. Leaning closer, he gently took the brush from my hand, his movements slow yet deliberate. I darted my eyes toward the scattered papers and inkstone on the ground.

“[You’ve chosen your name well.]”

The brush clattered onto the inkstone as he scooped me up effortlessly.

“Ah—!”

I let out a startled cry, my legs flailing slightly as they left the ground. He held me steady, one hand firmly supporting my back.

“[To share the same ‘truth’ (眞) as me… It feels like a blessing from the heavens.]”

A sly smile spread across his lips as he licked them, his tongue long enough to nearly touch the ink still smudged on his face. Hesitant, I reached out, my thumb brushing against his chin to wipe away the ink.

“[…I planned to stop for the day, but…]”

His voice trailed off, unusually talkative today. His words stirred something within me as I pressed a hand to my chest, biting my lower lip to stifle the conflicting emotions bubbling up.

He was a raider.

An invader.

I was nothing more than something taken—a plundered object.

I repeated those words to myself, as if trying to anchor myself in that truth.