BW C23

Chapter 23

“Annoyed? Saving me was an annoyance? Why? How? I—I am… yours. I am your guide. And at the same time a precious life. How could you?”

When Hoeun fixed him with wavering eyes, Taemuk drawled with a sneer.

“Oh, you think you’re some precious young master?”

It was out of the blue—or so it felt to Hoeun. What mattered a person’s station when saving a life? Besides, he had never once treated Hoeun as a noble or a young master—least of all now.

“No. It’s because I am your guide, General.”

“Right. That’s why I kept you alive. So do your job.”

“My… job, meaning…”

“Strip and get in my arms. With me.”

“…”

“As vulgar as possible. You.”

That’s what I like.

He ran his hand through Hoeun’s hair, long and loose, the ribbon gone; his expression, seeing it unbraided, unbound, was hard to read. Hoeun only stared back, saying nothing, as if he had no idea what any of this meant. With a look of impatience, Taemuk seized Hoeun’s backside with his other hand, hard.

“I’m saying take me. Here.”

“General!”

Startled, Hoeun grabbed his hand. What on earth was he saying. Take what, with the backside? What could one possibly take there—

And suddenly last night’s words surfaced.

“If you don’t want to bare your ass here, better you just suck.”

Bare your ass.

Take it with your ass.

So—take Taemuk, Taemuk’s member, with that place between the buttocks…

Blood drained clean from Hoeun’s face in an instant.

Was that truly what male Military Gods and male guides did? Was that how it was meant to be? Was it even possible?

What Hoeun had imagined the act between Military God and guide to be—well, that…

Truthfully, he didn’t know.

He had never thought deeply in that direction; his days were spent in bouts of illness—he had no strength left over for such thoughts. He had vaguely assumed he would learn when the time came.

And now the end of that avoidance was this. What was he to do with this…

His flat chest heaving, Hoeun only rasped breath in and out. Taemuk seized his soft cheek and shook it roughly side to side; Hoeun’s long hair swung and scattered.

“That’s the face of someone itching to bite his tongue and die.”

“…”

“Right—this is what you people like, isn’t it? Fidelity. Chastity. That sort of thing.”

At that, Hoeun’s brows drew faintly together. Words like fidelity and chastity felt out of place here. With trembling pupils but a steady gaze, he looked at Taemuk.

“I am your guide, General. For me to keep chastity before you is absurd.”

As he finished speaking, he realized his own contradiction. Yes, they were a pair made by heaven. Fate. Why then was he refusing him? Not even knowing what the act was—why had he said no?

Because the brief taste of it last night had hurt too much? Because he was afraid? Because it was unfamiliar? Shameful? Indecent?

Plausible reasons, yet not reasons for refusal. Then what on earth… As Hoeun sank deeper into thought, Taemuk flung his grip from Hoeun’s collar as if tossing it.

“Then strip.”

“…”

Hoeun lay where he had fallen, motionless. He had recognized his own inconsistency, yet still felt repelled. He did not want to undress. He did not want to continue the act.

Why.

Why did it repel him so.

With his brow throbbing, he soon understood.

This was not about the act. It was about feeling.

Hoeun had believed that every act with his Military God would be warm, happy, fulfilling. But between himself and Taemuk, there was none of that. Instead there were orders, coercion, disdain.

“If you don’t like it, go back to that fine house of yours. Don’t need you.”

As Hoeun silently held out, Taemuk spoke in a voice edged with annoyance. Then, as if he would have nothing further to do with him, he rose and went to the small desk. He took up a cigarette and set it between his lips.

Hoeun pushed himself up, unsteady, and looked up at him.

“…”

Taemuk does not like me. As a match, as a guide—perhaps not even as a person.

So—do I want to go home?

Back to that room like a prison, or at times a coffin?

No. Hoeun liked this place, the outside world, life beyond.

Moreover, whatever Taemuk felt, the fact that he was Taemuk’s guide did not change. He could not refuse the act forever. As Taemuk said, this was indeed his job, his responsibility.

Then how to overcome this.

Scratching the mat with his fingertips—scritch, scritch—Hoeun swallowed. Just as Taemuk struck a match, Hoeun murmured, barely audible,

“Last night, you said you were going easy on me because I was a noble, didn’t you?”

Hoeun remembered every syllable of Taemuk’s words from the night before.

“I’m going easy because you’re a noble. Be grateful.”

He didn’t know what exactly “baring his ass” entailed, nor how not doing that was “going easy,” but judging from the present, it seemed that really had been leniency.

“Then please go easy on me today as well.”

“…What?”

“I don’t wish to undress here. Perhaps, as you said, it is because I’m a precious young master.”

“…”

“So please—spare me.”

At the neat succession of words, Taemuk paused, then gave a short, incredulous laugh. As he opened his mouth to speak, Hoeun said something unexpected.

“Cock…”

The word came out in a metallic voice that split in thin shards.

“What?”

When Taemuk scowled, Hoeun repeated, voice trembling thinly,

“You told me to practice… sucking cock.”

“…”

“I’ll do it. Practice.”

Hoeun knew this was not a fundamental solution—only a brief evasion. But he did not want to do that other act in this shabby tent. At least the first time, the first time with his fated match, he did not want it so wretched.

“Until we reach the encampment—could you please allow just that?”

“…”

“Please… I beg you.”

Hoeun lowered eyelids so pale the blue veins showed through and pleaded.

“…”

Taemuk didn’t answer at once. As the silence stretched, Hoeun braced for refusal. Then, suddenly, Taemuk crouched before him.

“Say it again.”

“Please, I—”

“No, before that.”

“…”

Hoeun glanced from one of Taemuk’s eyes to the other, sifting back over what he’d said and picking out the one phrase that fit the command “again.” Only one remained.

“Practice… sucking cock.”

His lashes quivered as he spoke it. So did his lower lip.

“…”

Taemuk stared at those lips, as if looking for the word Hoeun had just uttered upon them. Under that intent gaze, Hoeun bit his lip. He could still feel the sting of that word he’d just said lingering electric at the corner of his mouth.

“…”

“…”

Silence fell. The tent flap fluttered now and then in the wind, and a coal popped in the brazier—tak. Then, all at once, one corner of Taemuk’s mouth lifted, sharp as a blade.

Uneasy at that smile, Hoeun watched him with fearful eyes. Taemuk gave an order.

“Again.”

“…Sir?”

“Do it again.”

“…”

Blinking fast, Hoeun looked at him, then moved his lips the smallest bit.

“Practice… sucking cock.”

It was humiliating. Perhaps less so than baring his behind—but of a kind. Hoeun felt as if something inside him collapsed. It felt like Taemuk was toying with him in a new way.

Taemuk chuckled again—a laugh with a glint of madness.

“Again.”

“…Again?”

“Yes. Again.”

Hoeun sighed through his nose and spoke again. Taemuk watched, intent, the proper face pronouncing the vulgar term, and then told him to say it again, and again. By the tenth time, even Hoeun felt nothing in saying the word.

So it takes but a moment for a person to become coarse, he thought.

When his throat felt raw from the repetition, Taemuk dropped onto the bedding. His great over-robe, wide as a mat, flapped and settled a beat late.

“Do it, then.”

He tipped his chin.

“Sir?”

“You said you’d practice sucking cock. Do it.”

“Ah… yes.”

Hoeun, dazed, wondered—was Taemuk agreeing to his request? He rose and moved toward him. Then he sat in formal seiza before him. Between Taemuk’s wide-spread thighs, his half-erect member showed.

“…”

Yesterday, the sight of it had been so mortifying and embarrassing. Perhaps because he had been saying “cock” all this time—perhaps because he had narrowly been spared from baring himself—it felt less dreadful than yesterday.

Taking a deep breath, Hoeun bent forward. But before he could take Taemuk into his mouth, his untidied hair slid forward in a glossy fall. Hoeun swept it back behind both ears.