TSBIRBV Ch 221(NSFW)

Chapter 221 Interlocking (4) (NSFW)

“Senior Brother, Senior Brother…”

Even with something to cling to, he felt as though he were drowning, cast into deep water. With one hand laced tightly in his Senior Brother’s, there was no escape—he could only bear the full weight of the man’s body crashing into him.

There was no ground to retreat to. The waves of pleasure, merciless, scraped the inside of him raw. Each time Haryang’s sex drove into his depths, the shock spread all the way to the nape of his neck, leaving him tingling.

To yield himself entirely like this—surely it was madness. There was no room left for reason. Yegyeol’s only judgment was that he wished this overwhelming ecstasy might last forever.

He knew he had become a beast of instinct and flesh, yet he felt no regret.

Haryang held him. Those black eyes brimmed not with calculation, nor intent, but unfiltered desire—pouring over, drowning him. It was rapture.

What had begun as a union of bodies had now entwined into something of the heart.

“Do not cry. Cry too much and your head will ache…”

At his Senior Brother’s murmur, Yegyeol realized that tears were falling freely from his eyes.

It was not from pain, nor hardship. Simply, the flood of emotions found no other outlet but to spill as tears.

He nodded faintly in understanding, and felt Haryang’s tongue lick at the corners of his eyes. Compared to the heat burning at their joining, the temperature was lukewarm, yet the soft, bumpy surface of his tongue was vividly felt.

“So much water… what shall I do with you?”

Haryang sighed as though regretful, thrusting into him roughly. Though their coupling had not lasted long, Yegyeol was already soaked through.

Again and again, Haryang pressed his lips to Yegyeol’s hand—white-knuckled, faintly flushed with tension. It was lovely, yet it was also fear.

Those fingers, grotesquely twisted only a while ago, had since straightened back to normal. Haryang could not forget the sight of Yegyeol’s injuries; so now he bound that hand within his own grip.

Even knowing his disciple healed swiftly, the memory of his broken bones still pained his heart. It was fortunate that Yegyeol had been ensnared by illusion—otherwise the agony would have been unbearable.

“Ahhh—hhhnn!”

With each thrust that lifted his belly, Yegyeol’s head fell back. His short brown hair rubbed against the bedding, tousling into a wild mess. It was a sight pleasing to the eye.

“There is not a corner of you that is not fair.”

If only this were drunkenness, he might awaken. But to be drunk on a living man—there was no escape.

Each thrust jolted Yegyeol like a paper doll. Even knowing how fragile he was not, Haryang still felt the weight of worry, seeing him so precarious.

“Ahhh—hhhn! Hhh—hahh…!”

Lips trailed from jaw to chest, biting lightly. Where there was little flesh, it hurt more than it pleasured, making Yegyeol flinch.

But his clumsy squirming only served to stir his Senior Brother further.

“I-I’m going to—”

His trembling lips could hardly form the words. Haryang blinked slowly, then whispered:

“Just a little longer. Endure a little more.”

Though gentle, coaxing as one soothes a child, the words were broken by his ragged breaths.

“Hm?”

He rubbed his lips along Yegyeol’s skin, cajoling softly. Yegyeol, choking on gasps rising to his throat, could only nod.

Only because it was his Senior Brother’s plea did he not refuse. In truth, he could not last ten seconds, let alone ten minutes.

Through his hazy vision, he saw Haryang’s lips curve upward tenderly. That smile alone was enough to make him believe enduring this was worth it.

“Good… so good.”

His lips grazed Yegyeol’s neck. Even breath alone was stimulation; flesh upon flesh made his nerves stand on edge.

“Hhhhnnn…”

Haryang toyed with his body skillfully.

Deeper, inside…

But the man withheld what Yegyeol truly needed, leaving him on edge. Even his own brow was damp with sweat.

“I-I can’t, it’s too much…”

Crying aloud, Yegyeol’s eyes flushed red. Haryang looked upon his face, savoring the colors, then seized his jaw and kissed him roughly.

“Mmph—hhhn!”

Yegyeol reached up as if to push against his chest, but only swallowed down the breath Haryang gave him. Their mouths clung messily together.

Haryang rose, licking at his lower lip, still staring intently at Yegyeol. Slowly, he pulled back.

His shaft slid free until only the tip hovered at the edge. Yegyeol tried to relax, but tensed despite himself. Then, without warning, Haryang thrust deep, to the hilt.

Yegyeol’s walls clenched around him, and as he was split open all at once, his eyes flew wide, his mouth gaping. For a moment, no sound came—then, as his seed spurted forth, a sharp cry tore out.

“Ahhh—ahhhhnnn!”

Though he had experienced it before, he could never grow used to this fall. His limbs trembled. His insides strained tight, unable to relax. Trying to brace on his knees, his legs only flailed and collapsed again.

“Hahhh… truly.”

Haryang muttered, sweeping his hair roughly back. It was not spoken to Yegyeol. Meeting his gaze once more, Yegyeol saw hunger in his eyes that would not fade. He wanted to call him Senior Brother, but the sound died in his throat.

Their joining made the loudest of sounds.

In that beast-like coupling, Yegyeol could only moan, powerless.

“Hhhhnnnn—ahhh!”

Even with seed spilling thickly between his belly and thighs, Haryang showed no sign of stopping.

“W-wait…!”

His length rubbed his prostate mercilessly, pressing him to the brink.

For a moment, Yegyeol’s mind blacked out. Haryang paused, but with their bodies still locked, he felt his disciple’s heartbeat strong.

Even so, Haryang pressed his lips to Yegyeol’s chest and breathed slowly.

“…Wake up now.”

Holding his disciple’s waist in one hand, he began to move again.

With each thrust, lewd squelching noises spilled from within him. The walls, even while he fainted, opened and squeezed eagerly.

Soon Yegyeol stirred again, his eyes fluttering open.

“Hhhhn…?”

His brown eyes, still clouded with confusion and pleasure, gripped Haryang’s heart. His breath quickened.

Since the first time he had held a sword, he had been taught to keep his mind still as a calm pool. Yet before his disciple, his heart rippled uncontrollably, dizzying him.

“I-I’ll break…”

Yegyeol whispered haltingly. Almost unconsciously, he pressed a hand to his belly.

It bulged faintly, and he shivered. Haryang laid his hand atop, pressing down.

“Ahhh—ahhhhnn!”

Even as he tried to pull away, the grip would not loosen. The more he struggled, the more acutely he felt the heavy presence inside.

Pinned, unable to move, Yegyeol whimpered. His softened sex, sated a moment ago, stirred back to hardness.

The stimulation was too much, nearly painful—yet still, it was pleasure.

“You think you will break?”

The low voice lingered at his ear.

Gentle, impossibly gentle—his Senior Brother’s tone was as always. That it felt laden with meaning was only because Yegyeol’s reason had gone astray. He nodded weakly.

“A grave matter…”

The murmur was languid. The concern in the words did not match his face. Yegyeol’s lashes trembled.

Haryang kissed at his eyes, then pressed harder against his belly.

“Hhhhnn—ahhh!”

Heat poured into him.

His walls, already stretched taut, were filled to the brim. He felt his belly swell slowly as seed was poured in, his hand trembling atop it.

In truth, it was no such dramatic change. Yet Yegyeol’s battered mind magnified it into terror and excitement, both swelling larger within him.

“Ahhh, ahhh… Senior Brother, Senior Brother…”

He pleaded to the only one he could cling to. Even forgetting that it was this man who had driven him to the brink.

“P-please… help me…”

His babbling, incoherent pleas were pitiful.

Haryang gazed down at him, sighing, and whispered:

“Shhh… you will be all right.”

And it was no empty promise. Slowly, he withdrew.

Even as his shaft slid out, dragging against his walls, Yegyeol’s body jolted. He forced himself still—looking up, he saw the faint furrow of Haryang’s brow.

He did not wish to trouble his Senior Brother, who already restrained himself for his sake.

“Ahhh…”

As the head slipped free, Yegyeol curled in on himself with a moan. From his loosened rim, seed spilled in thick streams.

“Hhhhnn…”

No matter how many times he felt it, he could not grow used to it. He felt his Senior Brother’s gaze heavy upon him. It seemed meaningful, but Yegyeol harbored no suspicion.

Yet contrary to that trust, Haryang’s hand—still pressed to his belly—tightened.

“Ahhh—ahhhhnn!”

Fingers threaded through his, locking him, pressing his hand to his belly as though he himself forced it.

From the rim, seed gushed freely, not in trickles but in streams. The sensation was wholly different, and Yegyeol shuddered, stricken by the urge to void.

“Ahhh—ahhh! S-Senior Brother…”

Shame painted him scarlet, yet he could call no other name.

Overwhelmed, his sex jerked, spilling clear fluid. He wept like a child, unable to stop.

Haryang brushed the sweat-damp hair from his brow and pressed kisses to his flushed skin.

“Now, I think I may fill you again.”

Yegyeol, stunned, faced his Senior Brother’s tender whisper. His eyes were licked clean, and then, slowly, Haryang pressed back inside his loosened, trembling walls.

It was far too early yet for the night to end.