Wine and Poison Chapter 26 - Night of Wine 

“Is it because no man has sucked on them that the color is so faint? Here.”

 

She pressed firmly down on the nipple with her finger.

 

“You—you’re insane, aren’t you?”

 

Langsion glanced at Scylla—whose chest had turned an explosive shade of red—and gave a sly, beaming smile. 

 

Exactly the smile she had once described as lewd.

 

“N-no, this isn’t right. We can’t… Ah!”

 

Just as Scylla tried to shove him away with force, Langsion immediately latched his mouth onto her nipple and sucked hard, drawing it in deep. 

 

A sweet sensation slammed into her brain. 

 

The more eagerly he sucked and nibbled, the more devastated Scylla’s expression became.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Her voice slipped out together with a moan, thick with confusion.

 

“Why are you sucking it like that?”

 

“Because it tastes good?”

 

Langsion mumbled while kneading her other breast with his hand.

 

“Curious?”

 

“Huh? About what?”

 

“About what master’s nipples taste like.”

 

He nearly got slapped across the head. 

 

Dodging her hand easily, Langsion extended his tongue long and slow, covering the nipple completely.

 

Scylla threw her head back with a sharp gasp—“Haaah”—and covered her face with both hands.

 

“I d-don’t know… Hnng… Is this really something everyone likes…?”

 

Langsion raised one eyebrow. Scylla’s bewildered, trembling voice pierced clearly into his ears.

 

“That woman was screaming like she was about to die…”

 

That woman?

 

“Wait— no, stop. This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

 

Reason returned to Scylla’s voice. 

 

Langsion instantly realized she was trying to break free from the enchantment of this space, this moment, and of him. 

 

To him, it was an extremely unwelcome turn of events. He frowned, yet still spoke in that same languid, sensual whisper.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t know if you’ll understand, but… I don’t want our relationship to change.”

 

Langsion let out a short, wine-sloshing laugh.

 

“What exactly do you think would change?”

 

“…”

 

“This kind of thing won’t have the slightest effect on the relationship between you and me, Master.”

 

A lie.

 

It would definitely change.

 

And most likely in exactly the direction he wanted.

 

Women who take a man inside themselves shed the shell of the independent warrior. 

 

Langsion found himself anticipating how much more blindly devoted Scylla would become. Women like that despair when abandoned by a man. 

 

Just like the woman he once knew. 

 

Langsion never once thought he was different from other men. 

 

If anything, his particular madness would only fan the flames of wanderlust even more fiercely than ordinary men could.

 

 The brief thought of how devastated Scylla might be in that future moment flickered through his mind, then drifted away like something carried off on a river current.

 

“I will always remain the disciple you want me to be, Master.”

 

He was simply following his desires faithfully—the craving to stimulate every sense in the way men hunger for, the urge to conquer a formidable opponent.

 

“But I keep feeling like we shouldn’t be doing this… You and me.”

 

“You’re scared, that’s all.”

 

Langsion took both of Scylla’s hands that still covered her face and gently but firmly pulled them down. He locked eyes with her bewildered amber gaze. 

 

Unlike men who could turn syrupy-sweet for the sake of a fleeting taste of love, his eyes held an unshakable, unwavering certainty.

 

Women who want so badly to believe in someone already turn away from facts they know too well—and they always end up falling for that kind of conviction.

 

He stroked her body—rough to others, yet to him impossibly soft.

 

“Nothing is going to change.”

 

“Haa…”

 

Scylla let out a long breath. 

 

It was a sigh laced with resignation and feverish heat. 

 

Langsion immediately recognized that she had decided to follow her curiosity after all. 

 

It was satisfying… yet…

 

He looked down at her. For the first time, her pupils trembled faintly. 

 

A storm of emotions swirled inside them: embarrassment, awkwardness, shame, a trace of pleasure, curiosity. 

 

And beneath it all, a weak thread of resistance and doubt.

 

Something had been nagging at him since earlier.

 

“That woman… she was screaming like she was about to die…”

 

She doesn’t know how love between a man and a woman actually works. She doesn’t even know whether sucking on breasts counts as foreplay.

 

If there’s any precedent she could possibly refer to, it would only be that one incident—the very reason she was said to have received divine punishment.

 

Whether it was an Olympian god or some lesser deity, whoever it was, they must have played with her very intensely.

 

“I still don’t get whether this is supposed to feel that good.”

 

Langsion gave a feral grin. He is a god of intoxication. 

 

He finds far greater pleasure in watching a stiff-necked, upright human fall into frenzy and ruin than in the mere friction of bodies—so he usually refrains. 

 

But if he truly set his mind to it, he could bring more ecstasy to a woman than even Zeus ever could.

 

And Langsion wanted Scylla to remember this night forever.

 

Even if the day came when he lost interest in her, even when the time arrived for her to meet a lonely death, he wanted this night to rise vividly in her memory. 

 

Wouldn’t that, at least, serve as some small comfort to her?

 

“If you’re disappointed, just say so.”

 

“…?”

 

Langsion’s fingers descended onto her like a butterfly alighting on a nectar-drenched flower—slow, languid, and luxuriantly greedy. 

 

The tips circled her nipple teasingly before pressing down with deliberate pressure.

 

Only then did Scylla realize saliva had pooled beneath her tongue. She swallowed hard. 

 

The instant she did, Langsion’s gaze snapped to her like something supernatural. He smiled at her, a smile so sweetly melting it felt like honey dissolving on the tongue.

 

“Master has remained chaste for decades, so of course, your sensitivity has gone dormant.”

 

Scylla couldn’t make sense of his words. Fear born of ignorance made her shoulders hunch inward.

 

“Don’t worry.”

 

“…”

 

“I’ll develop it for you.”

 

He curved the corners of his mouth in a faint, knowing smile. 

 

The amusement in the eyes looking up at her was unmistakably lewd. That was absolutely not the gaze of a disciple.

 

“Master.”

 

Scylla bit the inside of her trembling lips.

 

“This feels… wrong.”

 

Of course, it feels wrong. 

 

From the very beginning, even the title “Master” has been nothing but deception. 

 

That’s fine. She will never figure out—until the very end of her short life—where the deception begins and where it ends.

 

Facing Scylla’s distrustful, anxious gaze, Langsion simply smiled and pressed his lips to hers. 

 

Their soft, moist tongues tangled together stickily. The contact of mucous membranes felt utterly different from skin brushing against skin.

 

As unfamiliar sensations kept flooding in without pause, Scylla’s body twitched and trembled. 

 

Neither age nor youthful appearance held any power here.

 

Scylla was an illiterate who had never learned even the first letter, while Langsion was a master who knew the shape of the very last one—so she was helplessly swept along by the rhythm he set.

 

With leisurely movements, Langsion brushed aside the fabric of her clothing that had already slipped down. He gently kneaded the breast that peeked out, then rolled the jutting nipple in slow circles with his thumb. 

 

The nipple he had sucked so eagerly quickly stiffened. 

 

As the hypersensitive flesh was rolled and teased mercilessly, Scylla felt an unbearable tickle rising in her throat. 

 

Moans bubbled up inside her.

 

“Touch here, Master.”

 

“No.”

 

At her firm refusal, Langsion let out a low chuckle.

 

“It’s already hard, Master. That’s proof your body is slowly getting ready.”

 

Like someone teaching a child, he whispered softly into her ear.

 

“Getting ready to accept me.”

 

He nipped lightly at her earlobe, and Scylla’s neck shrank inward.

 

“Haa…” 

 

Her sigh brushed against the side of his neck—hotter and wetter than before. 

 

Feeling the growing heaviness between his own legs, Langsion unconsciously slid his hand downward.

 

“Ack!”

 

The instant a foreign touch reached a place no one had ever touched except when she relieved herself, Scylla jolted violently. Her thighs clamped shut like a door slamming closed.

 

Langsion crooked his finger. 

 

Trapped between her thighs, his hand could barely move at all. He didn’t force it. 

 

Instead, he latched onto her earlobe again, sucking wetly.

 

Slurp, slurp— 

 

The obscene sucking sounds rang out shamelessly. 

 

Scylla’s nerves, which had been fixated on her legs, gradually shifted toward her ears. 

 

The moment her thighs slackened just slightly from the loss of strength, Langsion didn’t miss it—he slipped his middle finger in and dragged it lightly upward along her most secret place, from bottom to top. 

 

The touch was feather-light, but her reaction was anything but. 

 

Too shocked even to breathe, Scylla heard his low, amused laughter pour into her ear.

 

“See? You’re already getting wet.”