BW C175

Chapter 175

His trousers, damp and heavy with spent seed, loosened and slipped down. Seeing that, Taemuk asked with a disbelieving look,

“You’re letting me… suck it?”

“Yes. You want to do it, so… I want to let you.”

As Hoeun spoke softly and continued to undress, Taemuk found himself thinking seriously: What about giving him alcohol every day? They even called it medicinal liquor sometimes—surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing. When Hoeun got tipsy and all soft-headed, it’d be easy to hold him, carry him, sling him over a shoulder, keep him close.

While Taemuk was thinking that, Hoeun slipped his legs out of his trousers while seated. He folded them neatly, then covered himself with his inner robe and asked,

“Sh-should I… l-lie face down?”

The rims of Hoeun’s ears were bright red. He was trying hard to look calm and composed, but the thought of showing his back to Taemuk—of feeling Taemuk’s breath there—made his eyes burn hot.

He looked pitiful and fragile like that. And Taemuk, whose nature was anything but upright, felt a cruel desire rear its head.

He wanted Hoeun to be even more embarrassed. To struggle and cry like a child, to writhe from pleasure he couldn’t endure.

How should I do this?

As Taemuk pondered, his gaze landed on the low table in the corner. It was the small desk Hoeun sometimes used for reading. Seeing it, Taemuk’s lips curved up broadly. He reached out and dragged the table over.

“Get up here.”

“…On the table?”

“Yeah. Get on it and lie down.”

“B-but why—”

Hoeun’s face filled with confusion. Being told to climb onto a table—it felt too strange. As he hesitated, staring at the flat wooden surface, Taemuk said something absurd with complete seriousness.

“Then should I bend over like a dog, bow my head, and suck your ass that way?”

“……”

Hoeun’s lips parted slightly. You’ve done that just fine before—sometimes worse than a dog, nearly slipped out, but he swallowed it back. He couldn’t say something so irreverent to his superior.

Looking between Taemuk and the table, Hoeun finally let out a deep sigh and stood.

Fine. I decided to do this, so I’ll do it.

After all, hadn’t he been the one to start it? There was no point pretending to be modest now. Taemuk had seen every part of his body more closely than he himself had. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Hoeun awkwardly climbed onto the table. His body was small, but the table was barely wide enough for four books, making it difficult. Even placed lengthwise and curled up tightly, his head stuck out one end and his feet the other.

“Y-you really… want this, right?”

Hoeun fidgeted helplessly, then leaned forward to steady himself. At that moment, the inner robe hanging beneath his thighs flipped up all at once, fluttered, and fell over his head.

“Ah—”

With his bare buttocks suddenly exposed, Hoeun nearly screamed. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown himself like this, but being up on the table made it unbearably humiliating.

“General…”

He called Taemuk weakly. Taemuk grabbed the legs of the table and dragged it—and Hoeun along with it—closer. The table scraped across the floor with a harsh grrrrk, and Hoeun’s body shook as if he were riding in a cart.

Startled, Hoeun clutched the edge of the table tightly. Then warm air brushed over his buttocks.

Taemuk’s breath.

“Ah…”

Hoeun curled in reflexively, his hips dropping. And then—

Smack.

A broad palm struck his buttock. It didn’t hurt. If Taemuk had used real force, his backside would’ve split. It was just the sharp sound that rang out.

Still, Hoeun was utterly shocked. He’d never been hit there before—never been hit at all. Born frail, he’d been raised gently and carefully all his life.

Eyes wide, he tried to look back—but his inner robe covered his head completely, blocking his view. Then Taemuk’s voice came from behind.

“Hoeun. Lift your hips properly.”

The voice was so low it seemed to vibrate the air itself. Hoeun’s fingers and toes curled inward all at once. He’d often thought this, but Taemuk’s voice was as handsome as his face. Do you need a voice like that to be a general? he’d once wondered foolishly.

In any case, being called “Hoeun” in that voice made refusal impossible. Breathing unevenly, Hoeun hesitantly raised his hips.

“L-like this?”

“A bit more.”

“I-is this enough?”

“Yeah. Hold it there.”

At Taemuk’s satisfied tone, Hoeun let out a long breath of relief. But before he could finish exhaling—

Taemuk’s tongue touched his skin.

Starting from his plump testicles, up along the perineum, the cleft, and finally to the opening, Taemuk licked a long, slow line.

“Hi—!”

Goosebumps exploded down Hoeun’s spine. Even though he’d tried to prepare himself, the shock made him jerk forward. Immediately—

Smack.

“Hoeun.”

Taemuk scolded him.

“I-I’m sorry…”

Hoeun apologized in a suppressed voice, then wriggled his hips back toward Taemuk’s face.

His mind felt hazy. He couldn’t believe he was in this position, doing this. It was so shocking it almost felt unreal—which somehow made it bearable.

Taemuk stroked Hoeun’s thigh slowly with one hand, then pressed soft kisses to the opening.

“Mm…”

Hoeun bit down hard on his lower lip, unable to adapt to the sensation.

“Don’t bite your lip.”

Taemuk said. Hoeun couldn’t see him—how did he know? He must’ve been worried about the sore. How thoughtful, Hoeun thought—though did he really have to say that with his mouth right there?

“Huh… y-yes…”

Hoeun obediently released his lip and buried his forehead into the back of his clenched hand.

Taemuk drank in the sight of Hoeun’s rear and opening laid out like a carefully prepared feast. With Hoeun up on the table, it truly looked like a spread—no, like a banquet.

His pale, soft buttocks looked like rice cakes; stripped bare like a boiled chicken. Of course, the taste couldn’t be compared to any delicacy in the world.

Taemuk extended his tongue and licked along the folds.

“Mmh…”

Hoeun swallowed his moan. The folds, already teased for so long, were overheated and exquisitely sensitive. Taemuk’s tongue felt painfully vivid.

Taemuk licked again and again—sometimes sucking, sometimes pulling, sometimes scraping lightly with his teeth. Each time, Hoeun’s hips dipped and bucked upward. When Hoeun unknowingly lowered them, a slap would come down at once, making him flinch and raise them again.

“Ah—mm—hng—mm…”

Hoeun’s hands gripping the table went white with strain. The pleasure spread deep and dull, sharp and ticklish at once. It was different from fingers—an entirely different texture of sensation. Between his curled body, his length had grown hard again.

Taemuk’s tongue grew more obscene by the moment. He flicked over the folds as if counting them, then licked hard enough to push them aside. He buried his face between them, nose pressed into the cleft, shaking his head as if unsatisfied.

“Mmm…”

He swallowed audibly, throat working as if savoring something, sometimes making low sounds of appreciation.

“Hah… mm—ah…”

Hoeun had to feel Taemuk’s breath, lips, tongue, teeth, saliva—all of it, right there. His toes curled and stretched repeatedly.

Then Taemuk suddenly wrapped his thick arms around Hoeun’s thighs, holding them in place as if to keep him from escaping. He pressed his face down hard, cheeks squashed against Hoeun’s buttocks, and pushed his tongue between the softened folds.

The opening, now loose and pliant, swallowed his tongue whole.

“Hk—!”

Hoeun let out a sharp cry. With his tongue still inside, Taemuk began to suck. His lips sealed tightly, making obscene sounds with every pull.

“Haa—p-please, stop, stop—ahh…”

Hoeun twisted his hips, voice breaking. The deeper Taemuk went, the more it felt like something was being pulled out of him—taken away. The way Taemuk kept swallowing only intensified that feeling.

Taemuk’s tongue, strong even for this, stirred inside without mercy. The unaccustomed inner walls were licked and sucked, making Hoeun’s spine shudder violently.

After working him thoroughly, Taemuk suddenly pulled his chin back and shoved one buttock aside. The force flattened the soft flesh, spreading the cleft wide, stretching the folds sideways.

And with a soft—

Pop—

the opening parted.