TSBIRBV Ch 156(NSFW)

Chapter 156 An Offer That Cannot Be Refused (2)(NSFW)

There was no time to utter words like “No” or “Stop.”

A hot breath brushed below. The man parted his slit and lowered his head between.

Even though he knew what was coming, the soft sensation against the perineum made Yegyeol’s shoulders flinch.

“Ah!”

The raw cry spilled unrefined from his lips before he could compose himself, but Haryang did not relent. Compared to a shaft or fingers, the intrusion of a tongue barely reached shallow depths. Yet the feeling burned his head blank with something beyond pleasure.

The Black Ghost lifted his face briefly, rubbing his high nose bridge against Yegyeol’s perineum as though teasing.

“Ahh…!”

The clear sensation against the most sensitive flesh made Yegyeol’s pale thighs twitch like a hooked fish. But Haryang’s hands clamped tight on his thighs, holding them apart.

The white skin bore glaring red handprints, obscene and cruelly alluring. Whimpers, half cry and half moan, dripped ceaselessly from Yegyeol’s lips.

The tongue, plunging inside again, tasted the slickened walls after only two thrusts. Lewd sounds—tsch, tschp—echoed brazenly around the room.

Though he knew it was saliva, the illusion struck that his insides were moistening on their own.

Yegyeol’s lost fingers wandered, threading through the Black Ghost’s hair.

Caught in his clutch, the man lifted his head slowly, his blackened eyes fixed on Yegyeol. His lips gleamed wet.

Fuck, really.

For an instant, Yegyeol’s reason almost snapped.

How laughable his past self seemed—never imagining that his austere senior brother had this side.

No—perhaps it was fortune. If even his greedy eyes had only seen asceticism in Haryang, then surely others too had not dared approach him.

“…Put it in. Please.”

His voice trembled. Judgment and reason were tangled to shreds.

“Already?”

The Black Ghost pressed a kiss to his ankle with leisurely cruelty. Though the bulge below was obvious, he intentionally delayed.

Yegyeol thought he would go insane. Reaching down shakily, he spread apart the place Haryang had licked wet.

“Hurry, please?”

No space was left to worry how he might look— a disciple begging his senior brother’s alter ego for a man’s shaft.

“Haa…”

The grip on his ankle tightened. With the bare twist of a wrist, Yegyeol felt certain it would snap. Gooseflesh raced his skin. If he valued his body, he should push the man away even now.

But if it was what his guide wanted—an ankle was a small price.

“Where did you… learn such things…”

The man muttered hoarsely as he dragged down his trousers. His cock sprang free, already rigid.

“It will hurt.”

The blunt glans brushed against his entrance. Yegyeol didn’t retreat; he only met his eyes in answer.

The next instant, searing heat drove into him. The sensation of his narrow passage being split open forced a silent scream from him.

His vision blurred white. It was nearly as painful as the first time he had taken a man.

Haryang’s brows furrowed.

Wait… why isn’t he covering his eyes today?

Hope and anxiety sparked at once.

“Your greed… knows no end.”

The halting voice was taut with restraint.

“Planning to cut off what’s mine—what would you even use it for?”

He taunted, but the veins bulging on his neck proved he too was at his limit.

“Do you mean to take it to Cheonghae… and use it alone for your own pleasure?”

His cruel whisper implied he might even consider it.

“Hh…”

Yegyeol mouthed no, but the answer never left his lips.

“You asked for it… so I gave without reserve.”

He sounded as if it were nothing more than a debt collector’s demand, fulfilled out of obligation.

“You must… relax.”

His palm cracked against Yegyeol’s rear, making him buck and thrash.

“Ahhh!”

As if shaking his head could shake away the tears clouding his eyes, Yegyeol writhed. Rare strokes at his shaft forced him to breathe deep, to relax.

As the disciple’s body gradually yielded, the Black Ghost’s lips eased. Without withdrawing an inch, he buried himself fully inside the tight heat.

“Ah!”

When he ground against the hidden spot deep within, a sweet moan spilled from Yegyeol’s lips. Haryang knew this body intimately—though he had not birthed or raised it, he had shaped it.

He had discovered it, cultivated it, and trained it not in pain but in pleasure. That was why Yegyeol’s body responded so sensitively.

Mine.

The thought of never daring so once felt distant. Life was full of irreversibles. Only after stabbing himself with countless regrets had Haryang learned nothing could be undone.

How fortunate—this too could never be undone.

“Hnn, ahh…!”

When his sensitive chest was bitten, Yegyeol gasped. His nipples flushed red, marred with teeth marks.

The kneading, rubbing palms stole his breath, while the same man who had licked him so tenderly below now mauled his chest like a beast. His body split between ice and fire.

He was a man—his chest could yield nothing. Yet Haryang’s mouth was relentless, as if angry that nothing flowed.

“Had I known they’d ripen this plump, I would have devoured them sooner.”

The Black Ghost clicked his tongue. Even knowing it was Haryang, the voice so altered sent a chill down Yegyeol’s spine.

When his passage tightened, the man drove deeper. Yegyeol clung to his broad shoulders, seeing the sweat bead on his nape.

The mingled scent of flesh and sweat intoxicated him. Without the fragrance of spent seed, it felt more like grueling training than carnal play.

Did my senior brother smell like this when he trained in the practice yard?

The relentless piston made his insides burn. Yet it was pleasure, not pain, that ruled him. His mind and body alike were broken past repair.

“Black Ghost… Black Ghost…”

The man in his arms shuddered at the call.

Yegyeol wetted his lips. Perhaps it was because he was his guide—but he thought the real Haryang would never grow foul no matter how often consumed.

So responsive…

He wished it was joy the man felt—joy at seeing his disciple tremble from their coupling.

He wished it was shock—that in this moment, where Yegyeol gave not just his body but his heart to the Black Ghost, Haryang would falter.

I don’t want to be the only one sick with love.

Even if Haryang wavered, it was still an unfair trade. Yegyeol’s scales were hopelessly tilted.

“Haha…”

The man’s laughter reverberated through their joined bodies, sounding as much like a sob as a chuckle.

“How much longer…”

His voice cut off, a hushed lament brushing Yegyeol’s ear.

“How much more ruin must you face…”

Clicking his tongue, he threw Yegyeol onto the desk.

Stripped of his grip, the disciple’s hands were seized and bound together. The man rammed into him brutally.

“Ughh!”

Each thrust dragged his body back, the silk beneath squealing. Without the discarded robe cushioning, his back might have burned raw.

Held by the wrists, he couldn’t move. The sturdy desk groaned, shoes dangling from his toes dropping with dull thuds.

He felt like a ragdoll crushed and stretched—or like an accordion squeezed and pulled in rhythm.

“Ahh! Ahhh!”

Every cry made him hear his voice anew, foreign and raw.

Some rapture burned hotter than fire. He didn’t need to touch the flame—just knowing its heat was enough.

The violent pounding inside felt good. The thought that one day this fire would consume him whole felt even better.

Love could not be seen or touched—so he wanted proof like this.

“Ahh, Black Ghost! Ahhh!”

Haryang’s face, cloaked in the Black Ghost’s guise, twisted with anguish—not in pain, but in restraint.

“More… more…!”

Even as his world spun, Yegyeol laughed. He knew climax was near.

“Urghh…”

With the man’s weight crushing down, Yegyeol’s vision went white.