TSBIRBV Ch 139

Chapter 139 The Oldest (1)(NSFW)

‘Wow… I was almost found out.’

The hand that had been caressing Yegyeol’s cheek trailed down to his chin, then along the line of his neck.

He was deliberately brushing against vital points, testing his reaction.

Ordinarily, after a brush with mortal peril, instinctive fear or disgust would surface.

‘But I’m different.’

Yegyeol was an Esper, and the man before him was a Guide. The one who, in his nightmares or drugged haze, had bared his murderous intent, now touched him as though none of those dark emotions had ever existed.

The guiding that had been drained away in the struggle was now slowly filling back up. Far from revulsion, it felt like sweet nectar.

‘So he noticed because the candle was extinguished?’

It was only after fleeing that Yegyeol realized the candle had remained unlit. He had agonized over it, but the timing to return was all wrong.

Still bound tightly around the neck that bore fading handprints, Yegyeol had retreated to his room, ordered the bath prepared, and hidden himself within it.

He needed time alone until the marks vanished.

Yegyeol never accepted attendants at bath time anyway, and even if Samrang or Jinyoung came by, they would turn back if told he was washing. A perfect plan, or so he thought—until his Senior Brother appeared without warning.

“The hot water keeps flowing here—it’s fascinating.”

Feigning innocence, Yegyeol splashed about. He deliberately stirred ripples across the surface. Droplets speckled the hem of Haryang’s robes.

“There’s a hot spring nearby—it’s connected. I’m glad it pleases you.”

Haryang’s voice was calm, his smile serene.

“But warm water or not, if you stay in too long you’ll catch a chill. Don’t linger overly.”

Yegyeol flicked his fingers, splashing water onto Haryang’s face.

“Just a little longer.”

Haryang’s oldest inner demon gazed at him with a face of unclouded innocence.

A gaze brimming with trust, as though certain he could never be harmed by this man.

“You must have been lonely by yourself.”

Looking at the one who was pitiful, beloved, and resentful all at once, Haryang asked softly:

“Shall I keep you company for a while?”

There was no time to ask what he meant. In the next instant, Haryang stepped straight into the tub. The space that had easily held Yegyeol alone now grew cramped, barely able to contain both men.

Water sloshed and spilled over, soaking the wooden floor.

The sight of Haryang’s clothes, clinging to his skin as they soaked through, was dizzyingly provocative.

Haryang lowered his gaze. The shadows cast by his lashes stole Yegyeol’s breath, and only a beat later did he realize where that gaze had settled.

Beneath the rippling surface, between legs hastily drawn together. A faint curl tugged at the corner of the man’s mouth.

“E-Senior Brother?”

“So this is what you were hiding.”

Haryang reached out, sweeping the wet strands from Yegyeol’s cheek back behind his ear. His other hand slid below the water, parting the space between his legs.

“It seems you’ve been diligently reviewing what I taught you.”

A long, well-shaped length of flesh was caught in Haryang’s grasp.

At some point, Yegyeol had already been aroused.

“Ahhht!”

His lower body seized in Haryang’s hold, Yegyeol cried out sharply. He clutched the edge of the tub, trying to retreat, but there was nowhere to run in such a cramped space.

‘With a body like this, and he acted as though nothing were amiss.’

Looking down at the pitifully captured disciple, Haryang let out a quiet laugh.

“Ahh, ngh. That—ahh. Senior… I-I can do it. Alone. By myself. Please?”

“Hush…”

Though Yegyeol stammered, pleading incoherently, Haryang had no intention of letting him go. From the moment he awoke, the sticky residue of his nightmares had clung to him like a shadow.

It was not reason that governed him now, but impulse, sadism long restrained, and a helpless hunger to dominate.

‘Just a little help…’

The line he had guarded so skillfully was crossed in an instant.

Truthfully, he had always wondered what lay beyond.

“Ah, ahhh… nghh!”

Burying his face in Yegyeol’s fragrant skin, Haryang moved his hand.

The harsh ecstasy made Yegyeol’s body jerk violently. With every motion, water overflowed, the wet slap of it echoing against the bathhouse walls, weaving an indecent atmosphere.

Whether from soaking so long in hot water or from the overwhelming pleasure, dizziness churned through his head.

“Th-that, nghh. Senior. It—it hurts, no… not just….”

“It’s not only pain… is it?”

Haryang’s voice came ragged, breath shuddering. Yegyeol noticed the heat lingering in the corners of his eyes.

“Be honest with me. What could you possibly have to hide from me, your Senior Brother?”

His lips, so near they brushed the air between them, opening and closing with words, those lips flushed red, his gaze clouded with either lust or steam—judgment was stolen from Yegyeol’s grasp.

Shame and restraint were stripped away, leaving nothing but a burning want.

Enthralled beyond reason, the Esper begged his Guide.

“…Yes! Nghh, y-yes…! More, more—please…!”

Haryang brushed a fingertip against his already dampened cheek, as if chiding it for weeping without cause, and whispered in his ear:

“Good boy.”

His rough hand, unrelenting on Yegyeol’s tender flesh, grew even more insistent, stroking and squeezing with satisfaction at the permission granted.

As his other hand fondled him lower, Yegyeol whimpered like a young beast, clinging desperately to Haryang’s chest.

Cradling him like a child on his knee, Haryang’s focus remained wholly beneath the water.

“Nghhh… Senior Brother…”

At his nasal whimper, Haryang exhaled a deep breath over the nape of his neck. The urge to press his lips to the fine damp hairs there was nearly unbearable.

Watching the disciple surrender himself to teasing and violation, pitiful yet beautiful, Haryang thought bitterly:

‘But I cannot let him go.’

Yegyeol belonged in the sunlight, by the side of someone like Namgung Un.

But Haryang would never release him from the shadows.

The day he defied even his late master’s dying words and climbed Mount Kunlun to reclaim his disciple, all other possibilities had already been extinguished.

“Senior… Senior…”

The water grew cloudy. Ashamed as though he had disgraced himself like a child, Yegyeol clung to Haryang’s neck with tearful pleas.

“Yes, yes… I am here.”

Haryang drew him close, stroking his back gently.

Lifting Yegyeol from the tub, Haryang let the water drain away. Fresh hot spring water would soon refill it.

Once it did, he set Yegyeol back within.

He needed him to wash clean, for if he lingered any longer, he would not be able to restrain himself.

As Haryang withdrew, Yegyeol steadied his ragged breaths with eyes shimmering. His gaze flickered—then caught on Haryang’s arousal, swollen to a fearsome state.

Though he acted as though his own desire were insignificant, wringing water from his long hair, Haryang realized where Yegyeol’s eyes had landed and smiled wickedly.

“Will you help me?”

The steam-dampened flush on his face made him look faintly drunk. On a man incapable of drunkenness, that color stirred and provoked Yegyeol unbearably.

‘Too much… this is too much.’

His mouth dry, Yegyeol licked his lips, unable to meet his eyes, and nodded.

Reaching hesitantly toward the standing man, he fumbled to peel away the wet clothes. His trembling hands missed several times.

Despite the urgent need evident in his state, Haryang only looked down on him with languid eyes, waiting.

At last, Yegyeol pulled the trousers free. What emerged was a size beyond anything he had ever seen, in this life or the last.

“…Ah.”

He had half-suspected, but now—seeing it outside rather than swelling within him—it was staggering.

“Don’t push yourself.”

Seeing him frozen in shock, Haryang spoke gently, as though he had expected this reaction all along.

“…No. I can.”

Stubbornness rose. He had taken it inside—how could simply holding and stroking be beyond him?

Gripping it with both hands, Yegyeol felt its breadth straining against his palms. He swallowed hard, the pulsing veins sending chills through his spine.

“So… thick…”

The words slipped unbidden from his lips.

“So thick?”

Haryang echoed, pressing him, and Yegyeol whipped his head aside, unable to complete the thought. Why did the man become so perverse at times like these?

Then something brushed his cheek. Looking forward again, he realized what it was.

The tip hovered just near enough to graze him.

‘I want to try it… with my mouth….’

He stole a glance at Haryang. Half-lidded, his face radiated a raw carnality that made Yegyeol’s pulse pound.

The man who had always held and stroked him now stood exposed, entrusting himself to Yegyeol’s hands, his face bared with an untamed hunger Yegyeol had never seen.

‘So this was hidden beneath his robes?’

If he had belonged to a sect where marriage was permitted, like Mount Hua instead of Kunlun, disaster might well have followed.

Yegyeol barely managed to slam the brakes on his desire. He had neither skill nor knowledge to attempt such a thing. Just shoving it in would never suffice, and if he tried to swallow without finesse, his lips would surely tear.

‘Maybe just… a lick, only a little….’

No. He forced restraint into his mind and moved his hands instead. Disappointment made his grip tighter, clumsy but earnest as he stroked him.

“Like this… holding… and moving.”

“Ahh… yes.”

His mouth filled with saliva, his hips jerking unconsciously.

The musk of the man—what did it matter?

The slanted gaze bearing down on him, the faint moans escaping parted lips—what did it matter?

“…You’re good at this.”

The low voice praising him made Yegyeol’s ears flush crimson.

Heat welled in his lower body again, though it had already been wrung dry once. The water, risen barely to his knees, did nothing to hide his shame.

His shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees, his earlobes and nape—all bloomed the soft pink of peach blossoms.

Looking down at the pitifully flushed disciple, the ruthless man smacked his lips.

“Excessively so.”