TSBIRBV Ch 195(NSFW)

Chapter 195. The Venomous Viper Will Not Endure (6) (NSFW)

No sooner had Yegyeol been laid upon the bed than Haryang’s lips descended—upon the eyes that had shed endless tears, upon the cheeks still drenched with grief, and upon the lips clenched tight against sorrow. They lingered upon the chin where droplets still clung, upon the back of his hand where the first anguish had fallen, only to rise again to his face.

Over the loosely fastened chest of his robe, across his throat, Haryang pressed his lips, before finally branding Yegyeol’s mouth with a searing kiss.

Heat, scalding and overwhelming, poured from him. Gripped by the face, Yegyeol yielded every breath he possessed to the man who bit, licked, and sucked at his lips.

Each kiss robbed Yegyeol of something. Each was an endless demand for confirmation. Every ragged breath drawn across their entwined tongues felt to Haryang like he was tracing the fragile thread of Yegyeol’s life itself.

The swiftening heat of his body, the flush of skin, the pulse beneath—all of it could be read through a single kiss.

“Ahh—ah…”

Sweet sounds spilled from Yegyeol as his lips were bitten. Carried from bath to bed, his body, cooled in transit, was once more stoked to warmth.

“Good thing you came wet.”

Haryang was already hard, still straining with no sign of softening. Yegyeol, trembling with expectation, returned his kisses and lifted his hips.

Yet Haryang pressed into him slowly, as though there were no haste. No oil, no salve, yet his entry was not harsh—gentle, deliberate, like the glide of a body through still waters.

Stretched almost to pain, Yegyeol’s depths clamored more fiercely than usual, because, unlike the usual overwhelming tide, tonight there was space for sensation to assert itself.

“F-faster…”

He bit his lip, urging. But the merciless man only sank his teeth into Yegyeol’s shoulder.

Avoiding the spots of highest sensitivity, his manhood rubbed along the inner walls, driving Yegyeol’s hips to twitch helplessly. His Senior Brother, steady and skilled, handled his impatient body with ease.

Lest he glare up in petulance, Haryang teased his chest instead.

Though summer was far off, his nipples were already soft and ripened, pink and tender. With every suckle they flushed into vivid crimson, achingly obscene.

A few bites and they hardened, standing proud. His teeth left shallow marks—fading soon, perhaps, but the lingering pleasure etched deeper than flesh. Each sign of possession painted Haryang’s vision red with desire.

Shaking reason whispered lies—that this was true ownership, that he could wholly possess the other.

“Hhh… s-senior brother…”

The slow, heavy thrusts rose and fell. Each time his hips drove upward, the hard shape carved itself deeper into Yegyeol’s flesh. His face grew wet all over again.

“I thought you were only lovely when you cried,” Haryang murmured, licking the corners of his eyes.

“But just now, it broke my heart.”

The hand that fondled his chest pinched suddenly, drawing a sharp arc of sensation that bent Yegyeol’s spine.

“Ahhh!”

His depths clutched, his eyes shone, glittering with wet light, silently pleading.

“So I wondered, why do you weep…”

Haryang clasped his hand, entwining their fingers, and kissed them.

“You won’t tell me, will you?”

Yegyeol only nodded, sniffing. At a time like this, when Haryang’s patience burned, any word might betray him.

“Stubborn…”

Sweat dripped from Haryang’s temples. Though slower, gentler, the pleasure was no less intense. Controlling himself was labor enough to sap his strength, but it was another way of delight: to see each eyelash, to hear every sigh, to feel the strain of his own restraint.

Excruciatingly sensual.

Each stroke of skin beneath his hand, each moan spilling faintly from parted lips, each mark of his own endurance burned his throat dry.

He longed for the release he had been denied.

“S-senior brother… senior brother…”

No answer. Pleasure brimmed to overflowing, yet never spilled. Yegyeol strained for it, clenching, twisting, writhing, but Haryang’s reason held fast.

Melted by guiding, his Esper body was as pliant as jellyfish, barely able to support itself. Haryang, watching, eyes black as a beast’s, savored his disciple’s desperation.

How do I push him past his restraint?

Too hard a task. Yegyeol’s mind broke down, overwhelmed by longing. He wanted to be torn apart, filled to the depths.

“Haryang… Haryang…”

To hear his own name fall from lips that clung stubbornly to formality—sweet as nectar.

Yegyeol’s legs hooked tight around his waist, begging wordlessly for rougher, deeper use.

“Hhh… y-your excellency…”

A desperate attempt to provoke him.

Haryang’s mouth twisted, drunk on the sound. Though his endurance had lasted mere moments, it felt like thirty millennia.

His strong hands lifted Yegyeol’s hips. Withdrawing a little, he ended the torment and thrust deep, all the way, filling him utterly.

“Ah—!”

Caught off guard, Yegyeol could not stifle the cry.

The world went white. His limbs faltered, vision burst in fragments of pale light.

Haryang, rigid, held him steady, supporting his sagging body. Even then, in Yegyeol’s eyes, shame warred with unquenchable hunger.

“More, more…!”

His plea became sobs, sobs into broken cries, cries into fragments of delirium.

Like a beast savoring prey, Haryang bit and kissed and sucked at his disciple’s skin, drawing wet sounds with every taste.

His fingers came away damp. Startled, he thought it tears, but stroking Yegyeol’s hair he realized:

“Your hair… it was still wet.”

And as his hand passed, the pale strands dried, soft and downy.

No matter how often, such martial wonders amazed Yegyeol—he who, in a past life, had only skimmed their surface.

I could never do that…

With eyes full of awe, he clung naked to Haryang and whispered:

“…Tomorrow, may I go outside Qinghyeong Hall?”

“Outside?”

“Not beyond the Ten Thousand Mountains. Just let someone guide me.”

“Outside this hall is dangerous.”

His Senior Brother stroked his chest as he spoke, coaxing, gentle.

“I want to see where you live. I glimpsed it when I entered, but the mountains are vast… I’m curious.”

Usually indulgent, he was silent now.

Yegyeol straddled him, drawing a low groan. Gazing down, he begged again.

“Yes?”

“…It’s dangerous.”

But Yegyeol bent close, touching his lips with his fingers, meeting his eyes.

“With you behind me, who could touch me?”

Even knowing the cult’s madness, even knowing the danger, he trusted.

If someone tries… I’ll burn them. And say Samrang or Hongye did it.

So he pressed a kiss, feather-light, upon his lips.

“Yes?”

Tracing circles upon his chest, he urged once more. Haryang’s brows pinched, but he hesitated.

“You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“…You.”

A sigh.

“You trust this Senior Brother too much. Even after being deceived, you still think I could never harm you.”

It was nearly a soliloquy. His face bore heavy weariness. Yegyeol, sensing the weight of his doubt, felt a pang of guilt.

“I’ll send Samrang with you,” Haryang said at last, mastering himself.

“If anyone offends you, punish them on the spot.”

“Yes.”

“And should anything happen, do not hide it. Nothing here escapes my ears.”

His gentle tone could not hide the persistence of worry.

“If I grant this, and you come back hurt, you will never walk out of this hall again.”

At that, Yegyeol felt a fierce temptation. To never leave his arms? That was what he wanted most.

Perhaps just a scratch would be worth it…

He forced the impulse down and nodded meekly.

“Yes. I’ll be careful.”

“…It is not that I do not trust you.”

“I know.”

Yegyeol smiled brightly.

“It’s because I’m too precious to you.”

Haryang had no answer. Yegyeol pressed himself close, as though to align their hearts beneath the cloth.

Listening to the beat, he closed his eyes, lulled by the warmth.

“I promise—I’ll cause no trouble.”

Reverent as an oath. Yet the words on his lips were the boldest of lies.

He was already planning a calamity.