TSBIRBV Ch 121(NSFW)

Chapter 121 More Than a Drama (9)(NSFW)

“When… exactly did you get this wet?”

Each time he moved his shaft, wet, sloshing sounds came from Yegyeol’s rear passage. The younger man pressed his arms over his mouth, hiccuping. His forearms, his knees, even the curled toes and delicate ankles were all flushed a feverish pink. Against his pale skin, the color stood out all the more vividly.

Haryang recalled the child Yegyeol had once been, hopping across the white snow of Kunlun like a rabbit. Back then, his skin had been sun-darkened. Now, bleached from long absence of sunlight, it looked fragile, pitiable.

Perhaps next time, I’ll take him south to the sea.

He tore away the robe that kept slipping down and covering Yegyeol’s body without the slightest hesitation, then thrust his sex back inside.

The narrow passage, overwhelmed and helpless, swallowed him greedily.

“Hhhhn… ahh—!”

Haryang only held him close, yet Yegyeol could not escape his arms, squirming and rocking helplessly below.

The moment he seemed to grow accustomed, Haryang sensed it like a ghost and changed his thrusts, pouring new jolts of pleasure into a mind already overfull.

Yegyeol wanted to ask—how much longer would he be kept like this, pinned? Or perhaps… he didn’t want to be released at all.

His trembling fingers clung to Haryang’s shoulders, desperate not to lose his hold. Beside his ear came a low groan.

So even that voice, usually edged like steel, could sound like this.

He forgot to distinguish where guiding ended and sex began. It was a relationship built on lies, yet Yegyeol had sunk far too deep.

“Ahh… S-senior Brother…”

The name slipped from his lips before he knew it. He bit down on them, yearning to see what face the Black Ghost wore at that moment. But his sight was covered; he had only sound and touch to read the man.

“Yes. You came to me because you could not run into that Senior Brother’s arms, isn’t that right?”

The Black Ghost twisted his words to suit the moment. He didn’t sound displeased, only faintly intrigued—and that unsettled Yegyeol.

He regretted tying the knot of the blindfold too tightly. He should have left it looser. The thought barely lasted. Haryang pulled free, then slammed back inside, burying himself to the root.

“Ahh—ahhh! Ahh!”

Yegyeol arched his back, a sharp cry breaking from him. He had tried so hard not to spill in the borrowed room, but at last he climaxed, undone.

“And yet… seeing you dripping like this, I sometimes wonder.”

A thick finger pressed in beside his sex, kneading his inner walls. Slick with overflowing fluids, the intrusion slid in easily, tormenting raw nerves.

Yegyeol gasped sharply, the man’s musky scent fogging his head.

“I wonder… did Young Master Moon come here simply because he likes coupling with men, spreading his legs so willingly?”

The whisper at his ear was chilling.

Yegyeol sat astride Haryang’s thighs, still impaled, his body moved up and down by those strong hands. Though the girth was burdensome, it was still bearable.

“Hhhnn… nghhh… ahhh…”

Half-stiff with tension, pressing down on Haryang’s shoulders, Yegyeol’s arousal was obvious to anyone who looked.

And over his crumbling reason came another murmur:

“Who knows? If that Senior Brother of yours found out how eagerly your body sucks in a man, perhaps his opinion of you would change.”

There was something sly, suggestive in the words. But Yegyeol refused to take the bait. Fish swallowed hooks; men did not.

“S-senior Brother would… never! He’s not that kind of man!”

He defended him hotly, breath broken by moans.

“Hm. Let’s say that’s true, for now.”

The Black Ghost’s tone was ambiguous, impossible to parse.

Yegyeol strained to read between the lines but found nothing clear.

“They say he came from the Daoist sects, don’t they? And yet he’s accused of fathering a child.”

Another whisper, slipping in with the rhythm of pleasure.

“So, not such a chaste Daoist after all.”

Je Haryang telling Yegyeol not to trust Je Haryang—if not for the situation, he might have laughed aloud.

“Who knows. Perhaps he has a truly wanton body down here.”

Yegyeol shook his head wildly, trapped in his arms.

“No… no, he’s not… not like that—!”

But the moans slipping between his words twisted the denial into something else.

“Ah, of course. If he were a true Daoist, he’d still be living secluded in the mountains, not founding a trading group.”

Haryang mocked himself with cruel words. It wasn’t self-harm, for there was no pain in his tone. Not even self-deprecation—too sharp, too cutting.

Even as he pounded Yegyeol mercilessly, he continued to tear at himself.

“A man with nothing, raising a trading house so high… he must have used every trick. Perhaps even selling his own body.”

In protest, Yegyeol bit his neck hard.

The Black Ghost’s mask meant he could look him in the face without flinching, but words like these—these made him hate him.

Sensing that the trembling in his arms came from fury, not pleasure, Haryang asked in a low voice:

“…Does it anger you so much, hearing a mere substitute speak ill of him?”

Yegyeol faltered, unable to answer at once.

That moment of hesitation was punished—those rough hands seized his hips with bruising force.

The Black Ghost was the hidden face of Senior Brother. Normally so patient, so controlled. But in this guise, he was vicious, feral.

It was the side Je Haryang would never show his disciple.

How could Yegyeol hate him?

“After all, I…”

He forced the words out, his voice breaking.

“I can’t… nghh!… I can’t lie in Senior Brother’s arms. I’m just… a pitiful disciple.”

Moving his hips clumsily, clenching desperately around him, Yegyeol looked almost frantic. Haryang’s mouth went dry.

“You’re the only one who has me.”

Yegyeol stroked blindly at the nape of his sweaty neck, not even knowing where his teeth had marked him.

“So don’t say such things.”

Instead of licking the bite he had left, he simply clung to the Black Ghost’s body.

“…Haa.”

A sigh, like that of a sated lion, brushed his ear.

But Yegyeol only stiffened further.

And as expected—

“Aahhh! Ahhh—!”

That heavy ache came again, the kind that came only when he was stretched to his limit.

The cock inside him was swelling, growing even larger.

The pressure on his organs widened his eyes beneath the blindfold. It wasn’t unbearable pain, but tears spilled regardless.

“Hhhuhh… nghhh… it… it hurts—”

A soft tongue licked the tears from his cheeks, devouring every drop.

When Yegyeol tried to rise, hands pressed gently on his shoulders, pinning him.

Hands groped his chest from behind, skilled and sure.

The pressure scattered his senses into raw pleasure. Moans spilled unchecked. Deciding he was ready, Haryang drove into him harder, rougher.

The soaked channel clung and stretched as his thrusts grew more forceful.

“Ahhhhn!”

His eyes were open, seeing the world, yet all his mind knew was bursts of white light, flashing, fading. The waves of ecstasy drowned him; he almost wondered how he hadn’t fainted already.

Was his body becoming accustomed to Haryang’s size?

When his forehead nearly slammed against the table, a firm hand caught it, and Yegyeol, waiting for it, rubbed his face into the palm, sobbing wantonly.

Even though we both know it would heal quickly…

He thought, almost pitying that careful hand, even as warmth spread through his chest.

Like being trapped in a maze without an exit.

Yegyeol loved Haryang for being rough. He loved him for being gentle.

He hated being tormented, but when Senior Brother teased, it felt as though the man who was always so serious had learned how to be playful, just for him.

At last, Haryang drove to the deepest point, filling him utterly. Even in the throes of pleasure, Yegyeol thought his belly might burst, cold sweat pouring.

Pleasure and fear clung together like two sides of a coin.

Every time that cock sank into the depths, his trembling body quaked, his mind wrung out, his breath stolen.

He forgot entirely that this was no quiet chamber, but a tower on the busiest street in Sichuan. Clinging to the man ravaging him, he rubbed his swollen sex against Haryang’s abdomen.

Looking down at his wanton disciple, whining for more, Haryang smiled faintly.

Only after defiling him so thoroughly could he finally feel at ease.

He wanted, unthinkingly, to drag him even lower.