BW C158(NSFW)

Chapter 158(NSFW)

 

“No—no, that’s not what I meant—nngh!”

 

Hoeun frantically shook his head again.

 

“Oh? So you do like it, then?”

 

Taemuk gave a low chuckle, shifted Hoeun in his arms, and began driving into him with even greater force than before. Between the pale, spread cheeks that now formed a perfect V, Taemuk’s thick, imposing cock slammed in—plunge!—then withdrew with a wet, obscene slap before slamming home again—plunge!

 

“Hk—stop… ngh, please stop—urgh…”

 

Hoeun’s face was flushed crimson, stifled moans spilling from his lips. His limbs had gone limp from the overwhelming sensation, trembling uselessly, yet the ring of muscle at his rear still clenched greedily, sucking and tugging at the invading shaft. The soft, pulsing movements—squirm, clench, quiver—were transmitted perfectly to Taemuk.

 

He growled, voice rough as a beast’s.

 

“Hoeun-ah, are you trying to snap your general’s cock off? Ease up a little.”

 

The way he called “Hoeun-ah” was unbearably tender; the words that followed were anything but pure.

 

“Eu… hk, heuu…”

 

Hoeun could not even form a reply; tears simply rolled down his cheeks in fat drops. Taemuk tilted his head, lapped those tears away with his tongue, and continued pounding mercilessly.

 

Pluch-pluch, squish, poke, press, slap, smack, plunge.

 

The enormous shaft pistoned in and out of the narrow passage, producing the most lascivious sounds imaginable. Hoeun wanted to cover his ears, but he could not move. Every thrust jolted his entire body; that was all he could manage.

 

His vision flickered like the flame of the single oil lamp burning in the corner of the room. When the cock drove deep, everything went dark; when it withdrew, the world bled red; when it crushed that one spot, white sparks exploded across his sight.

 

The relentless onslaught left him gasping in ragged hiccups. Taemuk, meanwhile—

 

“…”

 

—at some point had fallen completely silent, no words, no groans. He simply wrapped one arm around both of Hoeun’s legs and torso, pinning him tight, then withdrew until only the head remained inside before yanking Hoeun downward while simultaneously thrusting upward—bam!—their bodies colliding with a wet slap. The fluids pooling around the rim were squashed flat, drenching Hoeun’s buttocks in a sticky mess.

 

“Hk…”

 

Hoeun felt the skin just above his navel bulge outward. It was not merely a sensation—he could actually feel it against his own thighs, pressed together as they were in the folded position.

 

Panic flashed across his face, pale as death, and he began thrashing wildly to escape Taemuk’s embrace.

 

“No—no! Urgh—no! I’ll tear—I’ll rip apart—hk, I’ll tear…!”

 

“…”

 

“Stop—please stop…!”

 

Taemuk gave no answer. He simply buried his nose and lips in the nape of Hoeun’s neck and dragged the smaller body even closer, as though there were still room to go deeper—though the entire length was already buried to the root.

 

“General—hk—please…!”

 

Ice-cold dread flooded Hoeun’s veins. At this rate something terrible would happen—he was certain of it. That massive shaft would rip through his belly and burst out the other side, or pierce straight through him entirely.

 

Sensing mortal danger, he struggled like a trapped animal. His nails raked at the arm imprisoning him, and without thinking he clenched his rear passage as hard as he could, trying desperately to push the intruder out.

 

Yet—

 

“Haa…”

 

A hot, moist exhale grazed his skin, and then—

 

“Heuuungh…”

 

Inside his already stuffed belly, thick, scalding seed began to flood in torrents.

 

“Hoeun-ah… Choi Hoeun…”

 

Even as he spilled, Taemuk kept dragging Hoeun toward him, as if trying to pull the smaller man bodily into his own chest. He crushed that tiny frame tighter, splayed his large hands over soft bare skin, and dragged his lips across pale flesh.

 

“Hn—ngh…”

 

The overwhelming penetration made Hoeun’s consciousness flicker. His eyelids droamed heavily. He tried to force them open, but it was no use.

 

Sensation dulled; the world grew distant. Yet the frantic thud-thud-thud-thud of Taemuk’s heartbeat against his back remained achingly clear.

 

Unconsciously, Hoeun began counting the beats—one, two—until he finally slipped into darkness.

 

When Hoeun stirred again, the light tapping at his eyelids told him it was well past dawn—probably close to noon. Taemuk must have left already, he thought drowsily, and opened his eyes.

 

“…Oh.”

 

Taemuk was right there.

 

He lay on his side, arms folded, gazing steadily at Hoeun. The moment their eyes met, Hoeun’s widened in gentle surprise and curved into a soft smile.

 

“You’re still here?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“I thought you would have gone out.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

Short, curt answers, devoid of inflection. They could almost sound angry. Yet Taemuk unfolded his arms, gently brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen across Hoeun’s cheek, then folded his arms again and resumed staring.

 

He had woken at dawn and spent the entire morning simply watching Hoeun sleep. Now that those eyes were open, it felt almost miraculous. How could irises be that clear? How could eyes be so large and round? How could the curve of those lashes be so graceful and mournful? Time slipped away unnoticed while he catalogued each detail.

 

“…”

 

Hoeun blinked slowly, meeting that unwavering gaze. At such close distance, his own pale face was perfectly reflected in Taemuk’s dark eyes. Realizing he was being studied so intently made him shy; he wriggled and pulled the quilt higher.

 

“Why are you staring like that? Is there something on my face?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why…?”

 

“You’re mine. Am I not allowed to look?”

 

“That’s… not what I meant…”

 

Hoeun lowered his lashes, cheeks tinting pink. His gaze darted between Taemuk’s nearby collarbone and his face, too embarrassed to hold eye contact for long. At last he murmured,

 

“Don’t you have to go out today?”

 

It was their first full day in the new garrison; surely Taemuk had duties.

 

Taemuk’s brows drew together faintly. He tilted his head toward the paper door as though listening to something outside, then answered with lazy indifference.

 

“They’ll manage fine without me.”

 

With that, he tugged the quilt down from Hoeun’s lips—he disliked even that small part of the beloved face being hidden.

 

“I see.”

 

Hoeun gave a tiny laugh. So those sharp ears had their uses after all.

 

They lay in silence for a while longer, simply looking at each other. Then Hoeun covered his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a delicate yawn. His body was still languid from being kept awake until the early hours.

 

Through eyes made watery by the yawn, he whispered,

 

“Shall I sleep a little more, then?”

 

“Do it.”

 

At the easy permission, Hoeun naturally wormed his way into Taemuk’s arms like a small animal seeking warmth. Taemuk lifted one arm to make space, and Hoeun settled against the broad chest, pressing his cheek firmly to it. Instantly he was enveloped in Taemuk’s scent and body heat.

 

“Your fever has gone down a lot.”

 

Hoeun murmured, laying his palm gently over the thick muscle and tracing it lightly. The temperature was pleasantly warm now—not the burning heat that had plagued Taemuk since the incident at the lake. A quiet pride bloomed in his chest: all his whimpering efforts last night seemed to have worked.

 

But Taemuk misunderstood and frowned.

 

“What, are you cold?”

 

“No—I like it this way.”

 

Hoeun smiled softly and wrapped both arms around Taemuk as tightly as he could. A Taemuk who was no longer in pain, who no longer suffered—it made him impossibly happy. Audacious as it was, he almost felt as though he had created this version of the man himself.

 

“It’s perfect like this.”

 

He nuzzled his cheek against Taemuk’s chest and exhaled contentedly, like a small beast rolling in soft grass, purring. The smile on his lips was small, delicate, and utterly lovely.

 

“…”

 

Taemuk said nothing, merely gazed down at him. Then he cupped the back of that small head, buried his nose in the soft hair, and murmured,

 

“…Yeah. Perfect.”

 

Taemuk glared at the rice cakes sizzling over the brazier as though they had personally offended him. The moment a wisp of smoke rose, he flipped them; a moment later he flipped them again. He pressed them with his forefinger to test doneness. Crisp outside, soft within—just right.

 

With bare fingers he snatched a steaming cake straight off the heat, broke off two finger-length pieces, glanced at Hoeun’s small mouth, and promptly split those pieces in half again. He dipped one liberally in honey syrup and held it out.

 

“Eat.”

 

“You eat, General. I’m full.”

 

Hoeun—now neatly dressed, hair braided beautifully, seated primly at the low desk with a book open before him—shook his head politely.

 

Taemuk, wearing nothing but an unfastened robe over his bare torso, scowled harder than ever.

 

“You ate less than a bird at lunch and you dare say you’re full? Eat.”

 

Chilbok had brought a late lunch tray earlier; Hoeun had managed barely five spoonfuls. He had drunk half the soup, set down his spoon, and declared himself finished. Taemuk had glared until Hoeun forced down three or four more bites, but it was still a pitiful amount.

 

“…”

 

Hoeun eyed the honey-drenched piece hovering in front of him. It looked delicious, yet his appetite simply wasn’t there. Still, when a superior offered food one accepted, so he began to lean forward—

 

“Be good and finish it, and I’ll bring you fruit later.”

 

Taemuk coaxed exactly like one might coax a child.