BW C130(NSFW)

Chapter 130(NSFW)

“Haah…”

A strange shiver ran through Hoeun as he pressed his chin weakly to one shoulder, a breathy sound slipping out of him. Wherever Taemuk’s tongue had touched, it burned for an instant—only to chill as the saliva cooled. Yet that cold was unlike any winter chill he had ever known; it was something entirely different.

Taemuk kissed and licked Hoeun’s chest for a long time. Hoeun watched him, bewildered, unable to comprehend him.

He was a man. No matter how much Taemuk suckled that place, nothing would ever come of it. Why was he doing such a useless thing? Was coupling truly an act composed of such meaningless motions? That absurd thought flickered through his mind—

—and then Taemuk’s hand closed suddenly over Hoeun’s backside through his trousers.

“Hh…!”

Lost in dazed thoughts, Hoeun snapped back to himself. He thought he heard Taemuk let out a faint laugh—whether real or imagined, he could not tell.

Taemuk dipped his tongue into Hoeun’s navel, then traced his way upward across his abdomen to his chest. He dotted kisses—soft, quick, insistent—up his throat to his jaw, all while kneading his backside firmly.

His flesh, devoid of muscular resistance, yielded and deformed under every squeeze. And perhaps… that pliancy was addictive. Taemuk’s hands could not leave him. It felt as though this body had been made solely for him to knead and shape.

As he kneaded Hoeun’s hips, Taemuk stared straight into his face.

That gaze was oppressive. It did not suit the act of intimacy—it felt as if Taemuk were studying him, observing his reactions rather than indulging in passion.

“General, I…”

Unable to endure that gaze, Hoeun called to him. At that moment, Taemuk’s hand slid abruptly down the cleft of his backside.

“G-General!”

Startled, Hoeun grasped at his forearm—too late. Taemuk’s fingers were already at his entrance.

He rubbed it through the fabric. It should have felt merely odd, yet it was stranger precisely because of the barrier—silk creasing and gathering, dragging against him as though clawing gently.

“Uuhn…”

Hoeun tipped his head back with a trembling sound—different from the ones before. Taemuk licked up Hoeun’s throat and let out a low laugh.

“Yes. This is the place you really like, isn’t it?”

“L-like…? Wh-what do you mean…?”

“You don’t need to understand.”

“N-no, I think I should—ah!”

His protest broke as Taemuk stroked him again, circling the spot with his fingertip, reminiscent of the long-ago touch from when Taemuk had once applied ointment for him.

Heat crept up Hoeun’s cheeks. His breath fell in feverish whimpers.

And each time he did, Taemuk chuckled softly and kissed his face—his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, rubbing his lips against skin as if to soothe and devour all at once.

Soon Hoeun sensed Taemuk’s breathing change—dense, heated, rough. It defied sense; he was the one being touched so obscenely, yet Taemuk’s desire was smoldering.

With his middle finger, Taemuk pressed hard at the entrance—circling, pushing, as though burrowing, then rotating again.

“Hh…ha… nn…”

Hoeun’s body jolted and twitched in little tremors. It was not overwhelming pleasure—yet it made him restless, needy. His knees drew inward, his toes curled. Without realizing, he raked his nails down Taemuk’s arm.

Taemuk lowered his lips to Hoeun’s ear, voice a deep murmur:

“Not enough, is it? Hm?”

The tone seemed gentle, yet it dripped with hunger. Hoeun knew well what would happen if he agreed. His trousers would be removed, and he would be made to take Taemuk’s body inside him.

He did not welcome it—yet he could not refuse. Only by doing this could their union conclude.

Hoeun swallowed, then looked up at him, stammering:

“Do… do it.”

“Do it?”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly do you think I will do?”

“Wh-whatever you wish. Just… do it.”

“…Very well.”

Taemuk’s narrow eyes watched him quietly. He seemed on the verge of asking something else, but simply nodded.

“Then so be it.”

He released Hoeun’s hips—and pulled down his trousers in one motion.

Hoeun shuddered as bare skin was exposed to the air. Flustered, he reached clumsily for the blanket, but a large hand caught the backs of his knees and lifted. His lower body was hoisted easily, folding him in half.

“G-General…?”

Hoeun called out, voice strained from the compression of his abdomen. Taemuk did not answer. Instead, hair brushed against Hoeun’s inner thigh.

That tickle made him flinch—and then go utterly still.

Hair? On his thigh? How—?

Bewildered, he forced his head up to look down.

“What… what are you doing down there?”

Taemuk’s face was between his legs. That position itself was not unfamiliar—but his face being there was wrong. Usually, what pressed there was his lower body—his length.

But now, Taemuk’s nose hovered before Hoeun’s sex, his testicles, the curve of his perineum, and that tightly clenched entrance. His breath ghosted intimately over every sensitive inch.

Hoeun attempted to scoot back, mortified—but Taemuk’s powerful arms clasped both his thighs in one sweep. He looked up, lips curved in a slow, predatory smile.

It was handsome—too handsome. And it terrified him.

“General—”

Before he could finish, Taemuk plunged his face between his legs—burying himself in the cleft of Hoeun’s backside.

“General!”

Hoeun cried out in shock, instinctively gripping Taemuk’s hair.

But Taemuk did not move. Instead, he sealed his mouth over Hoeun’s entrance and sucked. Hoeun felt every hair on his body stand on end.

“W-wait—ah—don’t, don’t do that, d-don’t…”

Pale with shock, he pulled desperately at Taemuk’s ear as though to tear it off. The sensation of a tongue there was not merely strange—it was otherworldly. Even Taemuk’s fingers had made him tremble, and a tongue was far worse.

Yet Taemuk remained rooted, lips and tongue stubbornly working him. The more Hoeun struggled, the more relentless and consuming Taemuk’s mouth became.

“Please… General…”

At first, Taemuk kissed as though sealing his lips to Hoeun’s very opening, pulling and releasing gently. Then he rubbed his face against him, pressed and lifted, lips smearing over the folds.

And then—disastrously—he tasted him. And once he tasted, he devoured. His tongue swept up broadly, languid and claiming.

Hoeun’s back twisted, his voice breaking:

“Hnnn…”

Taemuk tightened his grip, spreading Hoeun open with one hand and baring him utterly. Then he feasted.

Each stroke lifted and lowered the folds, each pass of his tongue tracing the grain of tender skin. Sometimes he pressed hard and slow, making the flesh dip inward with the pressure.

Hoeun’s soft body flushed quickly, his entrance reddening as if ripening. To Taemuk, it looked like fruit—like an apple deepening in hue, a persimmon growing sweet and tender. Ripening to be eaten.

“Ha…”

Taemuk exhaled a heated breath and licked his lower lip as though savoring the taste. Then he pressed his mouth firmly to the opening again, suction strong and insistent. Under that pull, the folds quivered and were drawn gently into his mouth.

“Hah, un, ngh—”

His knees shook in the air. Had he been standing, he would have collapsed.

And Taemuk did not stop. He teased the folds with his tongue, then scraped them lightly with his teeth as though stripping tender meat from bone.

“N-no—ah—no, you can’t, you can’t…”

Hoeun shook his head wildly, certain Taemuk meant to consume him. His teeth were blunt and hard, yet somehow sharp at the same time, and a chill shot down Hoeun’s spine.

Seeing Hoeun’s eyes fill with tears, Taemuk faintly laughed—lips still sealed against him.

Hoeun felt that breath against his most private place.

“Ah—”

Shivering violently, Hoeun thought: If this continues, there will be no return. He would cross a river from which one does not come back. He had to stop. He must stop. This was against nature, forbidden, indecent. Too obscene, so obscene the heavens might strike him for it.