BW C17(NSFW)

Chapter 17(NSFW)

 

“Khk, huk… uugh…”

Without realizing it, Hoeun pushed against Taemuk’s thigh. But of course, Taemuk did not budge in the slightest. Instead, his erection swelled even harder, pressing into the tightening of Hoeun’s throat. Its sheer size was overwhelming, as though it might tear his mouth open and burst out at any moment.

Hoeun’s eyes widened as if they might fall from their sockets in shock. His pupils shrank, and his usually soft, languid lashes stood on end like needles.

Yet even then, as though still unsatisfied, Taemuk yanked Hoeun’s head tighter between his thighs.

“Open your throat.”

“Kuugh…”

It was an impossible command. Hoeun had no idea what it meant to open one’s throat. He never even ate food in mouthfuls so large; how could such a thing be possible?

As Hoeun froze like a block of wood, Taemuk exhaled impatiently, blowing up the bangs on his forehead. Then he seized the long ribboned hair* hanging over his thigh as though it were a rope, wrapped it around his hand, and yanked it back.

(*댕기머리, daenggi-meori: a traditional hairstyle for boys/young men with a ribbon tied at the end of the hair.)

Hoeun’s head was thrown backward, and the shaft in his mouth slid out with a wet sound.

“Haaahk…! Kkh, kkhhh! Kkhh—kkhh!”

Hoeun sucked in so much air that his flat chest ballooned, coughing violently as though his frail body might snap apart. At that very moment, voices sounded outside—passing soldiers talking among themselves.

Hoeun immediately clamped his mouth shut, terrified that his coughing might leak through the tent.

“Hhhhk, khhk, hhhff…”

But the coughing would not be hidden so easily. His chest convulsed endlessly, demanding air. Hoeun pressed both hands over his mouth, so hard that the flesh of his cheeks bulged out between his fingers.

And then tears spilled down. His nose burned as though he had eaten something unbearably spicy. His throat was raw, his tongue throbbed. It was an utterly foreign kind of pain.

As Hoeun struggled desperately to suppress his coughing and sobbing, Taemuk let out a derisive chuckle. But the smile quickly faded. He shook the hair still wound around his fist.

“Again.”

“Huuh…”

“Open your mouth. Quickly.”

“…”

Hoeun swallowed hard through his small nostrils, staring at Taemuk. Then, slowly, he lowered the hands covering his lips. He knew there was no retreat, no escape.

The instant Hoeun’s hands dropped, Taemuk shoved his head down again. Choking back a sob, Hoeun opened his mouth to take the hardened shaft that had grown even larger.

Now that he finally understood what Taemuk meant by “suck,” Hoeun tried desperately to take more of him in, spreading his mouth as wide as he could. Yet he could not even manage half. His fearful eyes darted to the massive remainder of Taemuk’s length that still jutted before him.

This was impossible. Utterly impossible.

Hoeun shook his head with tear-glazed eyes, but Taemuk showed no intention of rescinding the command. His will was to continue, regardless of Hoeun’s own.

Hoeun’s tears dripped down as he held the shaft in his mouth. When nausea surged and his throat convulsed,

“Huuh…”

Taemuk exhaled deeply, his erection hardening even further. Thick veins bulged across its surface, scraping Hoeun’s tongue and palate painfully. Even his lips and the corners of his mouth stung.

Seemingly pleased, Taemuk began thrusting Hoeun’s head back and forth more roughly.

“Mmm…”

“Kkphh, ughk, hhhuuhk…”

Hoeun whimpered like a small beast kicked about, forced to take him. His frail limbs flailed as though swimming. Spittle leaked uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth, sticky from friction, making him appear debased.

Taemuk stared at him obsessively, even smearing the dripping saliva across his skin with his thumb. Hoeun’s trembling hand brushed over Taemuk’s, a wordless plea for mercy.

Normally, repetition should lead to improvement and familiarity, but this act grew only more unbearable. His throat burned hot, the corners of his mouth smarted, and somewhere bled—the copper taste of blood lingered. His jaw, stretched wide, ached as if it might shatter, and without meaning to he bit down. His canines scraped painfully across the shaft, but Taemuk did not even flinch.

“Hhhup, hhghk, nnghh…”

Hoeun felt his consciousness dimming. Unable to breathe properly, dizziness flooded him—heavier, thicker, darker than any he had ever known.

At some point, the hand that had been gripping Taemuk’s wrist slipped weakly downward. His stiffened back collapsed.

Taemuk seized the moment, dragging Hoeun closer. Now, with Hoeun’s throat slackened of strength, the shaft slid in and out with far greater ease.

And at last, when half of the length vanished into his mouth, Taemuk spat out a short curse.

“Shit…”

Even in his haze, Hoeun heard it. Through the grasp in his ribboned hair, he felt the convulsion of Taemuk’s hand. With his other hand, Taemuk dragged Hoeun’s limp hand around his own waist, as if yearning to press closer.

Driving harder, Taemuk thrust rapidly in and out—then suddenly froze. His massive back hunched, his abdomen tensed as if splitting apart, and his grip on Hoeun tightened.

Moments later, Hoeun felt warmth surge deep within his throat. Panic seized him—had it ripped? Had it burst? His spine shuddered cold.

It was like swallowing hot porridge without blowing on it first—scalding as it slid down into his stomach. There was no distinct taste, only a faint smell.

“Hhhuuuhp…”

At last, Hoeun realized: Taemuk had climaxed. Even someone so unworldly as he knew what emerged at the peak of another man’s pleasure.

And Taemuk’s release was long, endless. The thick fluid poured continuously down Hoeun’s gullet. The shaft within him twitched and pulsed as though alive.

Only after a long while did Taemuk lift Hoeun’s head. The shaft, buried deep in his throat, slipped out like a snake, finally popping free with a wet sound as it pulled his lips outward.

“Khk—!”

Hoeun coughed at last, air rushing through his reopened throat. Yet this cough carried no strength. Even coughing took more energy than he had. Panting weakly, head still clutched by Taemuk’s hand, his face was drenched with tears, saliva, and clear mucus.

Taemuk merely observed him. Truly, just observed—like one watching a spectacle. His eyes lingered on Hoeun’s lips, swollen red from his shaft. Suddenly, he shoved a finger between them.

“Hhh…”

Hoeun moaned softly. Strange though it was, at least it did not hurt. Taemuk played with his fevered tongue, prodding, lifting, stirring.

It was a peculiar act. On the surface it looked like teasing, but Taemuk moved as if searching for something inside his mouth, exhaling irregularly, almost as though he truly found something of worth.

After toying with his tongue for a while, Taemuk pressed both hands firmly to Hoeun’s jaw. His mouth opened wide once more, and into that space Taemuk thrust his shaft again.

“Kkhhhp…”

Hoeun groaned dully, his throat once more blocked. The tears clinging to his lashes fell in a heavy shower.

When Hoeun awoke, his eyes rolled slowly. The pointed tent ceiling, the fluttering fabric, the supporting pole—they all came into view.

“…”

He blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings. It startled him that this was not his home. His still-foggy mind had yet to adjust. But then the memories of the night before surged back, striking his skull.

His face twisted in anguish. He almost wished he had forgotten—but no, every moment clung vividly to his mind. Slowly he turned his head, scanning the tent.

Fortunately, Taemuk was gone. The oil lamps had all been extinguished, but sunlight poured through the canvas, brighter than the night.

Staggering upright, Hoeun realized he had not been left on the bedding but on the backrest mat**, his legs stretched out over bare ground. Just as he had collapsed while servicing Taemuk the night before, so had he been left. Which meant Taemuk had not touched him after he had fainted.

(**등메, deungme: a woven backrest mat placed near the bedding, not the bedding itself.)