TSBIRBV Ch 220(NSFW)

Chapter 220 Interlocking (3) (NSFW)

The man pushed between Yegyeol’s thighs and took his sex into his mouth.

“Ahh—!”

Though it was only the stage of foreplay, the sudden sensation was violently intense. Haryang opened his lips without hesitation and swallowed Yegyeol’s shaft down to the root.

At first, his mouth had been clumsy, but now he had grown skilled, knowing well how to bring Yegyeol to the brink. He knew Yegyeol’s body intimately and made no effort to conceal it.

“Ahhh, ahh…!”

Each time those lips slid up and down his flesh, the color deepened.

The tip throbbed, straining tight, and Yegyeol’s feet twitched against the bed. Even with his entire length filling his throat, Haryang’s face remained serene. Yegyeol stared in shock, wondering if he felt no gag reflex at all—until their eyes met, and Haryang’s gaze bent gently into a smile.

As Yegyeol’s knees clenched reflexively, Haryang pressed them apart with his elbows, plunging deeper, retreating, swallowing him to the hilt again. The pleasure rising from his lower belly tangled with guilt sharp as teeth, gnawing at his mind.

“Ahhh—hnn!”

Before pain or suffering, Yegyeol had never crumbled. Yet now he melted, helpless. Everything was in disarray—but if he was to be ruined like this, he welcomed it.

The cresting pleasure tormented him, keeping him on the edge. He felt he could spill at any moment, yet it stalled maddeningly short, heat flooding him without release. And then, just as he thought he might burst, Haryang drew away, letting Yegyeol’s shaft slip free.

From his wet lips, a string of fluid dripped down from the tip. Yegyeol covered his eyes. If he kept looking, he might seize Haryang’s hair and thrust himself back into that mouth.

I’m losing my mind.

He had wished only to show his gentleness, his tenderness—yet these impulses surged, shameful and raw. He was, after all, a dark-blooded Esper.

“Still unsatisfied, it seems.”

At the low laugh, Yegyeol peeked through his fingers. Haryang gazed down as though he had known it all along. Knowing full well he had not been allowed release, he had let him slip from his mouth, and yet dared to speak so.

Yegyeol knew his Senior Brother would never stop at this. He nodded, shivering.

“B-below… deeper, Senior Brother…”

He wanted to ask for more, to be filled, but the words caught on his tongue. Shame and desire pressed against his back in turns, leaving him unsure what to say.

“Below? Hm.”

Haryang tilted his head as if to honor the disciple’s request—and in that instant Yegyeol knew, instinctively, something was amiss.

And indeed, instead of what he had hoped, Haryang’s tongue slid lower, licking along the shaft and further down. Sensation, sharpened by his earlier teasing, blazed through Yegyeol’s nerves. It was like being groomed by a cat, every rough stroke of the tongue awakening him further.

“Hhhhn! N-not there—!”

That was not the “below” he had meant.

Wet heat touched the place beneath his sac, making him shudder violently. It was a spot he hardly touched even while bathing.

As Haryang moved his face, his straight nose brushed Yegyeol’s shaft, nudging, grazing. Each time the tip pressed against him, fluid leaked helplessly from his swollen slit.

“It tastes sweet…”

Haryang murmured as he raised his head slowly. His dark eyes, glazed with intoxication, were terrifying to meet.

One hand rolled Yegyeol’s sac while his tongue teased the slit. Sharp pangs spread through his belly. It was a stimulus far below his threshold, and yet, rather than disappointment, tension bound him tight.

Haryang would never stop at such trifles.

Perhaps to preempt resistance, he pressed down Yegyeol’s thighs and took the tip between his lips once more. Expecting to be swallowed whole again, Yegyeol jolted when instead his Senior Brother began sucking only at the crown.

“Hhhnng—!”

Each pull made his hips tremble, the suction threatening to drain him hollow, fear and pleasure blinding him in white heat.

“A-ahh, ahh—!”

Suckling at the tip, coaxing him mercilessly, Haryang drew the climax from him. Yegyeol spilled helplessly. His Senior Brother, who devoured greedily anything that came from him, this time swallowed only part and let the rest spill across his lips.

“S-Senior Brother…”

Reaching shakily, he tried to wipe the pearly streaks from his face. Haryang leaned into the touch, unconcerned with the mess, while Yegyeol’s hand, trembling with the aftershocks, smeared it across his skin.

“Ah—!”

“Mm. So my Yegyeol wished to paint me with it, not feed me. Next time, then, I’ll wear it, not swallow.”

“Senior Brother—!”

Though he glared, he could not keep anger in his voice—not while looking upon his Senior Brother’s face stained with his essence.

Yegyeol’s hand slid down between his thighs as he whispered:

“I want to do the same for you.”

“I have had my fill.”

Haryang guided his hand instead to his own shaft, already swollen and heavy.

But he murmured, “Rather than above… I wish to see you take me below.”

Yegyeol did not avert his gaze. He nodded, though his hand still held him. Slowly, he guided the head to his entrance.

Too large, too thick, for a body barely prepared—yet Yegyeol ached to take it all. He wanted the heaviness inside until his belly throbbed, to feel this moment branded upon him.

Normally, Haryang would have restrained him. But this time, he did not hold back, pressing the head against the tight ring.

“A-ahh, ahhh…”

With a deep push, it slipped inside. His hips rose, his toes curled.

Already slick with his seed and his Senior Brother’s touch, the shaft filled him, stretching him painfully taut. His chest heaved with uneven breaths. Yegyeol forced himself to inhale.

Haryang uncurled Yegyeol’s white-knuckled grip and interlaced their fingers. Absurdly, that alone loosened the rigid tension in his body.

Slowly, deeply, Haryang pressed inward, cleaving through unprepared walls. Sweat beaded and ran down Yegyeol’s neck. Broken moans slipped from his lips.

The thick intrusion pushed to his limit, nudging at the very end.

“Uhhhn…”

So new, so vivid a sensation.

Clenching his legs wide to keep from writhing, Yegyeol whimpered faintly.

“Yegyeol, you are cruel.”

Leaning down, Haryang whispered at his ear. His hand pressed against the swell in his lower belly.

“Your Senior Brother aches with hunger…”

It was neither rough nor violent, yet the weight of it bore down, inescapable.

Haryang’s eyes, dark and heated, fixed upon him. Not only with burning lust, but even with full reason, he desired Yegyeol utterly.

As though the moment would last forever. Yegyeol prayed silently to be released from that gaze.

“That you thought I would ever let you go…”

Arching his neck, he cried out without sound, tears clinging at the corners of his eyes. His lips moved, whispering “Senior Brother… Senior Brother,” but the words dissolved before they reached his ear.

Perhaps, after all, he had only imagined calling him at all.

“I have failed to express myself enough.”

“Ahh—ahhh!”

When Haryang thrust and gripped him firmly, pleasure near to pain arched Yegyeol’s body. But the solid weight of his Senior Brother pressed him flat, unyielding.

“Never again… will I let you feel slighted.”

His voice broke into fragments, mingled with low groans.

Even the sound of his breath sent shivers racing up Yegyeol’s spine. Fingers brushed the nape of his neck, over skin prickled with gooseflesh.

Perhaps he even muttered, how endearing, at the rough texture—but Yegyeol’s mind was so dazed, he could not tell if he had heard aright.

Haryang began to move.

Yegyeol’s walls clenched tightly around him, wringing as much as yielding. The lack of preparation made the intrusion all the more overwhelming. Every sharpened sense screamed at the pleasure searing him.

He felt the seep of his Senior Brother’s essence coat his insides, or perhaps it was his own body quickening to slick. He hardly knew, only that he blamed Haryang for it.

He tried to swallow his cries, but Haryang, catching this, slipped his fingers into his mouth.

Shameless, unrelenting.

Yegyeol, lips stretched around his fingers, could not help but moan.

“Hhhhhaaah—ahhh…!”

His belly burned. His head burned more. Each thrust shook him, and he clutched desperately for purchase. His chest was twisted, nipples pinched, and he shook his head.

So this is what it feels like to be taken by a beast…

Willingly debased, he looked up at his Senior Brother, who drove into him. Even through ragged breath, their eyes met—and Haryang smiled, red with desire.

His throat was parched. Desperately, unbearably parched.