BW C157(NSFW)

Chapter 157(NSFW)

 

Hoeun fluttered his puppy-like topknot as he darted about the house in excitement, then diligently began unpacking. Chilbok had offered to do it for him, but Hoeun refused and insisted on handling it himself. Kneeling before the chest of drawers, he neatly folded his clothes into the bottom drawer one by one, chattering all the while.

 

“It really feels as though I’ve moved house for the first time. When I slept in tents or in the army barracks, I never once felt inconvenienced, yet now that there is a proper floor beneath me and a ceiling above… I am ashamed to admit it, but… it is pleasant.”

 

“…”

 

The listener—that is, Taemuk—gave no reply. He sat on the small veranda beyond the wide-open latticed door, smoking in silence. Hoeun knew perfectly well that Taemuk heard every word even if he did not answer, so he continued without pause.

 

“Everyone was so considerate that we were able to obtain such a fine house; I must work twice as hard in return. I’ll practice shooting diligently and help with every chore.”

 

“…”

 

“Of course the most important thing is not to fall ill. If I were to become sick, I would only cause great trouble for everyone… Tonight I should heat the ondol¹ nicely and sleep warmly.”

 

“…”

 

“Ah, but if I make the fire too strong, General might feel uncomfortable. You run hot by nature; you might find it stifling.”

 

“…”

 

“Come to think of it, there may be no need to light the fire at all. General is so warm by temperament that I have never once felt cold while sleeping beside you.”

 

By then Hoeun had completely filled one drawer with clothes. He shut it firmly, immediately opened the next, and began filling that one too. His parents had packed so many garments that one drawer—nay, three—would scarcely suffice. It would be best to put his own clothes in this chest and Taemuk’s in the one opposite.

 

“While I’m at it, shall I organize General’s clothes as well? You have only military uniforms, but still, if I fold them neatly—”

 

“Hoeun-ah.”

 

At the low call of his name, Hoeun froze mid-motion. It was hardly the first time he had been called “Hoeun-ah,” yet the sound still felt unfamiliar, almost foreign. He held his breath without realizing it and slowly turned around.

 

“…”

 

At some point Taemuk had entered the room. He gazed down at Hoeun with those characteristically dark eyes and spoke.

 

“I think it will be all right now.”

 

“…Pardon?”

 

“I think I can manage not to hurt you.”

 

“…”

 

Hoeun’s breath caught in colored gasps. The remark had come out of nowhere, yet, cruelly enough, he understood in an instant what “all right” meant.

 

“I’ll probably torment you a little, though.”

 

Taemuk tilted his head, furrowed his brows, then relaxed them again. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smirk—an attempt at a joke, though a sliver of sincerity lay beneath it.

 

“…”

 

Hoeun could not answer at once. It was not out of fear or dread. He turned only his head toward Taemuk and covertly brushed his own ribs. The throbbing ache was gone. The bruises that had once bloomed in the exact shape of Taemuk’s fingers had finally healed.

 

Yes—now it would be all right. For Taemuk, and for himself.

 

“…Yes.”

 

Hoeun lowered his eyes and nodded shyly.

 

“Yes—ah! Nngh…!”

 

Shlk, shluck—shlk. At the thick intrusion pushing steadily in from behind, Hoeun’s jaw trembled as he moaned. And the moment the round, rigid glans pressed and ground hard against that one spot—snap!—his spine arched violently. Yet his body was clamped so tightly that he could not even writhe properly.

 

The two lay sideways, facing the same direction. Taemuk had hooked one arm firmly behind both of Hoeun’s knees and pulled them up toward his chest. The posture forced Hoeun into something like a crouched fetal position on his side—almost as though he were a child being held to urinate. With his legs folded and pinned, he could neither flee nor struggle.

 

Taemuk pressed flush against Hoeun’s back and continued the rhythmic withdrawal and thrust of his length.

 

“J-just a little—sl-slower—ah! Slow—please…”

 

Hoeun pushed futilely at the iron arm that encircled his legs and shook his head. A low, resonant growl sounded right behind his ear.

 

“Fuck, how exactly am I supposed to go any slower than this?”

 

A vein stood out on Taemuk’s forehead in irritation, yet even as he spoke he dragged his tongue in a long, wet stroke up the sweat-slick nape of Hoeun’s neck. He caught the plump, soft earlobe between his lips and sucked—chup—tugging gently. All the while his shaft slid out with a slick sound and plunged back in.

 

The heavy column of flesh burrowed deep into Hoeun’s belly; Hoeun threw his head back and shuddered uncontrollably. Damp stray hairs clung messily to his sweaty neck and cheeks.

 

After panting harshly for a moment, Hoeun managed to force out a stifled plea.

 

“Then… just a little smaller…”

 

“Smaller what?”

 

“That place… Could you not make it… hng… a little smaller?”

 

“That place? My cock, you mean? How the hell do I make it smaller? Should I cut it off?”

 

“…”

 

At those words Hoeun swallowed a sob. Even he knew the request was absurd, but it was simply too much to bear. This was already the third release, yet how could it remain so monstrously huge and unyieldingly hard? His bloated belly churned.

 

He sniffled again and begged once more.

 

“Please—just a moment’s rest—hn, I need—to rest…”

 

“Why? Does it hurt?”

 

“…”

 

Hoeun fell silent. He could not bring himself to lie and claim it hurt. After hours of harboring Taemuk inside him, his passage had softened utterly. Thanks to the long, thorough licking Taemuk had given beforehand, it was swollen and slick with saliva; add to that the thick loads of seed already pumped into him, and the enormous shaft now glided in and out with obscene ease, meeting no resistance whatsoever.

 

At Hoeun’s silence, Taemuk’s throat rumbled with laughter.

 

“So it doesn’t hurt.”

 

“B-but I’m… tired…”

 

Hoeun stammered his excuse, cheeks burning crimson—he was mortified that his lack of pain had been exposed.

 

Suddenly Taemuk seized the delicate erection trapped between Hoeun’s thighs.

 

“Hyaah!”

 

Hoeun’s body jerked as though struck by lightning, yet he could not escape Taemuk’s embrace.

 

“Just tired? When you’re this hard? Shameless.”

 

Taemuk tugged sharply on the modest length—so soft and plush despite its stiffness that it scarcely felt like a man’s organ at all. Even his cock resembled its gentle owner: amusing and obscenely endearing.

 

“R-release it—ngh—please let go…”

 

“No.”

 

Taemuk brusquely refused the plea, kept the small shaft in his grip, and simultaneously slammed downward—pluch!—burying himself to the hilt.

 

“Hnguh!”

 

Hoeun’s eyes flew wide. His entire body went rigid. Strength flooded his lower abdomen, and the inner walls instinctively clenched around the intrusion.

 

“Haa…”

 

Taemuk closed his eyes briefly and exhaled hot breath that scorched Hoeun’s ear like a brazier held too close.

 

He kept himself seated deep and rocked in shallow, rapid strokes. Wet, sticky sounds accompanied each grind of his shaft as it relentlessly crushed and rubbed that sensitive gland—press, grind, press, mash.

 

“Hk—n-no—don’t—nng! Hiuu… I hate it—hn, General—eu… You said—only a little—torment…”

 

Hoeun squeezed out plaintive tears as though wronged. He pounded feebly at the arm holding his legs, but the limb was immovable as stone. If anything, Taemuk dragged him even closer and viciously assaulted that single spot—pressing, stabbing, rubbing without mercy.

 

“How is this torment? I’m making you feel good. You like it here, don’t you?”

 

“No—I don’t—like—it—ngh! Hic…”

 

Despite Hoeun’s denials, Taemuk continued tormenting the same place. With every thrust the semen pooled inside spilled out in lewd squelches, smearing their joined flesh white.

 

“Hk! Ngh—hn, ah—!”

 

Hoeun’s shoulders hiccupped. The thigh Taemuk gripped trembled uncontrollably; his toes curled and uncurled in frantic repetition.

 

Then Taemuk pressed his lips to Hoeun’s ear and murmured in a bass rumble,

 

“Say you like it. Then I’ll go slow.”

 

“Hn—eu…”

 

“Say: I love it—General’s cock filling my belly so full.”

 

“Ah—ngh—hk!”

 

“Hurry.”

 

He nipped the delicate rim of the ear with his front teeth, urging.

 

“…”

 

Instead of obeying, Hoeun clamped his lips shut and shook his head fiercely.

 

Taemuk snorted through his nose in exasperation. Then—pluch!—he drove in savagely. The brutal thrust buried him so deep his heavy sac slapped audibly against Hoeun’s skin.

 

“Heuk…”

 

A bolt of lightning shot through Hoeun’s body. His narrow shoulders folded inward; his ankles jerked backward; his fingers splayed and curled in every direction. Tears spilled before he could stop them.

 

At the same moment, the shaft Taemuk gripped released a thin, watery stream of white—like a leaking fountain.

 

“Haa…”

 

Taemuk groaned deeply. The passage had suddenly clung to him with viscous heat and sucked him inward—chuuuup—as though trying to swallow him whole.

 

“Fuck… saying no with words but yes with your greedy little hole.”

 

The excruciating tightness made Taemuk bite off a curse. A vein throbbed at his temple. His grip on Hoeun tightened instinctively; he had to fight not to crush the fragile body that felt ripe and soft as an overripe persimmon.

 

¹ ondol: the traditional Korean underfloor heating system.