BW C174

Chapter 174

Without realizing it, Hoeun placed his hand on Taemuk’s chest, where the muscles rose in firm, rounded relief. At once, Taemuk furrowed his brow as if something displeased him. Startled, Hoeun hurriedly pulled his hand back.

“Ah—sor—”

Before his hand could fully retreat, Taemuk seized it and placed it back on his chest.

“Touch as much as you like.”

“……”

“I’ll touch you too.”

With that, his hand slid downward and grabbed Hoeun’s buttocks firmly over his clothes.

“Ugh—”

Hoeun’s back stiffened. Taemuk paid it no mind, kneading his buttocks without restraint. The soft flesh yielded easily—crushed, pressed, squashed beneath his grip. As he worked Hoeun’s rear, Taemuk pressed kisses to his hair, his temple, his ear, again and again.

“Ah, h—”

Hoeun shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation, his shoulders trembling, before he belatedly came to his senses. As if steeling himself, he exhaled through his nose and cautiously kneaded Taemuk’s chest in return. Even with permission, his touch remained tentative, restrained.

Yet the feel of Taemuk’s chest beneath his palm was—truly—strange. Soft and pliant on the surface, yet dense and firm beneath; broad, thick, full. An irresistibly fascinating texture. Simply touching it was enough to make him feel good.

“Oh……”

Hoeun murmured in open admiration, kneading Taemuk’s chest again and again. Though he pressed his cheek there every night to sleep, touching it with his hands felt entirely different.

A quiet chuckle sounded above him, but Hoeun, absorbed in Taemuk’s chest, didn’t even look up. He scarcely noticed Taemuk kneading his backside.

In the meantime, Taemuk tugged Hoeun’s inner garment upward and slipped his hand down the back of Hoeun’s trousers. Grasping his bare buttocks, he squeezed hard, then slid his fingers between the cleft. Soon, his middle finger brushed against the tightly closed entrance, folded shut like a seam.

“Hh—”

The undeniable sensation made Hoeun’s neck jerk sharply, his long hair swaying with the movement. His fingers dug into Taemuk’s chest, nearly pinching, but Taemuk didn’t flinch. His eyes glinted strangely as he continued to toy with Hoeun’s rear.

At first, Taemuk only traced the folds slowly with his middle finger. Then he pressed more firmly, shook the folds side to side as if spreading them, rolled them between his fingers.

“G-General… ah, mm, ah…”

Embarrassed and unbearably tickled, Hoeun tried to draw his legs together. But they were already spread to either side of Taemuk’s waist; he couldn’t move them. He wanted to tell him to stop, yet the words wouldn’t come. Hadn’t he been the one to ask for this? As a man, he couldn’t very well take it back now.

Taemuk continued to fiddle with the entrance. Heat gathered there, warming the dry flesh, though it did not grow wet as a woman’s might. Still, it was more than enough. There was its own pleasure in touching something dry—something that let him feel Hoeun’s body all the more clearly.

“Hh, ah, mm…”

Hoeun buried his face into Taemuk’s chest, his body twitching and jerking. Each stroke sent a strange pleasure through him—itchy and sharp, dull and lingering all at once—an unbearable sensation that made him ache. He felt his already-hard length grow even harder.

Before long, Taemuk added his index finger, using two fingers now to tease the folds, while spreading the rest of his fingers wide to keep Hoeun’s buttocks parted.

Taemuk’s movements grew heavier, firmer, faster. Each time he rubbed side to side, the pressure was enough to make the entrance dent inward—yet he never pushed inside. He only stroked the folds, scraped lightly, rolled them between his fingers.

By then, Hoeun’s body no longer merely twitched—it thrashed like a fish thrown onto dry land. Heat flooded his body, sweat beaded along his spine.

“P-please, ah—General, stop, please—”

Unable to bear it, Hoeun reached back to stop Taemuk’s hand. But Taemuk only tightened his grip, rubbing in a wave-like motion from side to side. The loosened folds shifted helplessly beneath his fingers.

“Hh, ah, hngh—”

Hoeun writhed, scratching at Taemuk’s chest and arms.

Whether it annoyed him or stirred pity, Taemuk pulled Hoeun back tightly into his embrace. Pressing his index and middle fingers flat against the folds, he rubbed rapidly from side to side.

“Haa—hngh—ah!”

Hoeun clutched Taemuk’s neck without thinking, holding on so tightly his lower body lifted slightly. His body kept trying to rise—perhaps to flee from this grotesque, blinding pleasure.

But the moment Taemuk pressed harder, rubbing inward with deliberate force—

“Hh—”

The pleasure inside him burst open. Hoeun’s body went rigid. His knees clenched Taemuk’s sides, his arms wrapped tight around Taemuk’s neck, and his buttocks tensed hard around Taemuk’s hand. Moments later, heat spread thick and wet below.

“Hh…”

Hoeun bit down on his teeth, forcing down a broken moan. His thighs trembled, tears welling faintly at the corners of his eyes.

The climax lingered, long and overwhelming, difficult to escape. Eyes squeezed shut, he struggled to endure the fading waves—

Only for Taemuk to rub the now hypersensitive folds again. The sensation struck like lightning down his spine. Hoeun grabbed Taemuk’s wrist and cried out.

“No—no! Not now, please—!”

“……”

Taemuk looked down at him in silence. After a brief hesitation, he slowly withdrew his hand. The large hand slid fully free from Hoeun’s trousers, and with its absence, breathing suddenly felt much easier.

“Haa…”

Hoeun let out a relieved breath, slumping weakly against Taemuk’s shoulder.

Shameless as it was, one release had quenched all his desire. He wanted nothing more than to sleep like this in Taemuk’s arms. His eyelids grew heavy, drifting shut—

“You came just from that? I didn’t even touch the front.”

Taemuk teased him with a laugh in his voice. Hoeun’s eyes flew open, then slid away to the side.

“Th-that is…”

He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. Taemuk had truly only touched him there—only there. No penetration, only the folds—and yet he’d climaxed. Hoeun couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to.

How did it come to this? Was it the alcohol? Or am I sick again?

He stared blankly at the damp stain below. Taemuk laughed, his chest shaking.

“You’re filthy.”

Hoeun stared at him, dazed. Taemuk’s smile looked like that of a demon feasting on his shame.

Then Taemuk rubbed together the fingers that still carried the lingering sensation of Hoeun and said,

“I kind of want to suck it.”

“…Excuse me?”

The color drained from Hoeun’s face. Taemuk hadn’t even said what he meant, but Hoeun already knew. He shook his head instinctively—only for Taemuk to tilt his head and cut him off.

“Why. Embarrassed?”

“Well, of course—”

“You’re drunk. Who cares.”

Hoeun blinked, then replied with solemn politeness.

“Being drunk does not eliminate one’s sense of shame.”

“……”

Taemuk’s cheek twitched. He’d planned to gloss over it and simply pin him down, but that clearly wouldn’t work. Clicking his tongue irritably, he watched Hoeun—who, in turn, studied him quietly. Hoeun hesitated, swallowed once, then asked softly,

“Is that… something you enjoy?”

“What?”

“Is it because you like it that you wish to do so?”

“……”

Taemuk’s eyebrows rose and fell slowly. There was no need to think. Just imagining pressing his mouth to Hoeun’s soft, tight entrance made saliva pool between his teeth.

“Yeah. I like it.”

“……”

“Your hands, your mouth, and that back there—they all work on me. And… it tastes good.”

Hoeun’s narrow chest caved inward, then slowly rose again. He pressed his lips together and squirmed off Taemuk’s lap. Annoyed by the loss of warmth, Taemuk reached to pull him back—

But suddenly, Hoeun tugged at the ties of his trousers and loosened them.