BW C133(NSFW)

Chapter 133(NSFW)

For a heartbeat, Taemuk stilled. Yet he did not push Hoeun away. After drawing in and releasing several breaths, he slowly wrapped his arms around him in return.

They remained like that — chest to chest, holding one another.

“……”

“……”

With his forehead resting on Taemuk’s shoulder, Hoeun closed his eyes. Something unnameable welled in the deepest part of his chest — quiet, tender, warm.

Until now, every time they had coupled, it had been merely an exchange of bodies between commander and iin. But this moment held something beyond sensation — a feeling, or something like it, soft and fragrant and gentle.

He wished the moment could last. Long, if possible. Forever, if the heavens would allow it.

Hoeun’s small hands fumbled, then tightened around Taemuk’s back. His breath came soft and steady.

“I can’t hold back anymore. I feel like I’m going to split apart.”

Taemuk broke the silence, sounding almost like a child complaining. Hoeun let out a faint, breathless laugh.

“Yes.”

The answer was brief, but it was permission. With one arm curving protectively over Hoeun’s head, Taemuk met his gaze — then slowly withdrew, only to sink in again even slower.

As his length pressed into the exact place it sought, Hoeun let out a thick, trembling sound.

“Mnnh…”

Hoeun had always favored things quiet and sweet. His nature leaned toward softness — slow rather than fast, gentle rather than forceful. Perhaps that was why—

—when Taemuk began striking deep, battering his core with fierce, blinding sensation, it overwhelmed him beyond bearing. He grabbed the crumpled bedding like a lifeline and tried to crawl forward — escape instinct pulling him.

But—

“Where are you going.”

He barely moved an inch before a large hand caught his hips and dragged him back down.

“Ah— nn— no, no, I can’t—”

It hadn’t started like this. When he first entered, Taemuk had moved slowly, tenderly. Hoeun had moaned sweetly, and whenever pleasure surged too sharply, Taemuk would laugh low and kiss him — gentle, indulgent. It had been lovely.

So lovely Hoeun had thought he could do this every day.

But the moment Taemuk first spilled inside him, his dark eyes had burned even blacker — and everything shifted.

Hoeun became prey fleeing a predator, while Taemuk became the beast that devoured every trembling inch of him without mercy.

“H-hii—!”

With a sharp thrust, Taemuk speared him to the deepest point. Hoeun’s voice cracked, and teeth grazed his ear as a low voice murmured:

“Why run? Hm? Didn’t you say we could go to the end?”

“I was— I was w-wrong, I— ah!”

Another plunge — and then another. So deep it felt like it pierced his mind. Then Taemuk rolled his hips, grinding further in until he struck a part of Hoeun’s inner wall he had never touched before. Only then did he groan, throat bobbing.

“Mmn…”

Heat flooded Hoeun’s belly — Taemuk spent inside him again.

“Ah… ah…”

Hoeun’s jaw trembled. His insides sloshed with heat — already full, now fuller, unbearable. He hiccupped for breath, glancing down. His thighs were sticky — with his own release he hadn’t realized happened, with Taemuk’s saliva, and the thick essence leaking from his entrance. A mess. Vulgar, obscene.

He dropped his forehead to the bedding.

“Ah—”

Strong arms slid under him — flipping him over. His legs were lifted; Taemuk withdrew halfway, then slammed back in. The brutal entry crushed a tender nerve that had swollen deep within him.

“—hii!”

Hoeun’s back arched clean off the bed, legs stiff as his half-hard sex dribbled a thin, milky fluid — neither seed nor urine. Something else entirely.

He felt broken. Something inside him had come undone. Fear clawed through him — fear he might never return to himself. His body had always been frail; if it broke further—

“Gen…eral, please, stop— ah!”

He didn’t even finish before Taemuk began pounding up again, tongue dragging over his slick throat and collarbone. Hoeun’s long hair tangled in that tongue — and Taemuk sucked it, too, as if even that was not to be spared.

“Hah… ngh…”

“Nn— hn— ah! Ahh—”

Hoeun’s eyes unfocused. His vision blurred; mind drowned in fog. When his head lolled weakly to the side, a large hand clamped his jaw, forcing him to face forward.

“Choi Hoeun. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

Bewitched, Hoeun obeyed. Taemuk rewarded him by sucking his wet lips entirely into his mouth before releasing them.

And the motion did not cease. His length pressed in, parted him wide, withdrew — only to scrape insistently along the sensitive wall. The tip, the crown, the veins along the shaft — all dragged over Hoeun’s prostate again and again, grinding, pressing, bruising.

His fingers twitched. His toes curled. His sex leaked in helpless spurts — like a faucet left half-open, dripping constantly.

Each drip pooled at his navel, rolled up his abdomen with each thrust, gathered on his chest, then climbed to his collarbone — where Taemuk lowered his mouth and lapped it like a dog drinking water.

“Haa… Choi Hoeun.”

“Ah… nh…”

“Hoeun.”

Even dazed, Hoeun looked at him at the sound of his name. Taemuk smiled — dangerously handsome — and pressed his lips to Hoeun’s ear, whispering:

“Say it: you like the general’s cock.”

“Nn…”

“Say it.”

“…”

Hoeun shook his head desperately. Even half-gone, he refused such vulgarity. Taemuk narrowed his eyes, tongue clicking in annoyance. Then he gripped Hoeun’s reddened backside hard.

Sensing danger, Hoeun grabbed his arm — too late. Taemuk hoisted his hips and began slamming into him, force shaking Hoeun’s thighs and backside like rippling water.

“Hh— ah! N-no, no, it’ll t-tear, it’ll— ahhh!”

Lightning-like pleasure speared through him. His voice broke.

“Say it.”

Taemuk punctuated every demand with another deep thrust. Hoeun sobbed, lips trembling.

“Gen…eral’s… c-cock… ngh… is g-good…”

“Fuck… again.”

“G-good… general’s… c-cock…”

“Hah…”

For a moment, Taemuk swayed, almost collapsing — but he clung to reason by force of will, eyes blazing at Hoeun below him.

Hoeun’s cheeks were flushed — whether from shame or pleasure, who could tell. He cried prettily, whimpered obediently, leaked down his thighs, refused eye contact yet followed orders.

A scholar acting like this… obscene little thing…

Teeth clenched, Taemuk adjusted his hold and drove harder, faster.

Sweat varnished his skin. Droplets rolled down his back, over the thick cords of his neck, across the muscles of his chest.

The tent steamed with heat from their bodies, air thick and hazy.

Dirty sounds filled the fog: skin slapping, obscene squelching, breath and moans tangling into something feral.

Then — Taemuk hauled Hoeun’s hips down, slamming forward at the same moment. Their bodies locked flush; Hoeun’s entrance clenched instinctively.

“Ngh—”

The tight squeeze wrung a groan from Taemuk. Every muscle tensed. A heartbeat later, he climaxed violently — for the fourth time — spilling a torrent that flooded Hoeun’s depths.

“Ah…”

Hoeun could not even moan properly — only opened and closed his mouth, gasping helplessly. Nausea rose. Four times Taemuk had finished inside him without withdrawing once — every inch of him felt filled, overfilled, unbearably overflowing.

It was as if his entire body had been filled with Taemuk.