BW C178

Chapter 178

It felt as though his sex had risen all the way up to his throat. And yet Taemuk showed no sign of being satisfied—he ground forward relentlessly, forcing himself deeper inside. The inner walls, already stretched wide, expanded further with a thick, sticky sound. Hoeun had to fight the fear that his belly might burst.

“G-General… hhk… General…”

Hoeun clawed at Taemuk’s shoulder with his blunt nails, scratching again and again. At that moment, Taemuk twisted his hips from side to side and dug into Hoeun’s depths with ruthless insistence—

“Kh—….”

He, too, reached his climax. Something hot and viscous flooded into Hoeun’s belly, which had already been packed full.

“Hh—….”

Hoeun couldn’t even blink. His breathing hitched and warped; tears streamed down like rain. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Haa….”

Taemuk gazed down at him with a dazed expression. Then he leaned in and sucked at the tears clinging to the corners of Hoeun’s eyes—chup, chuk—as though plucking them away. After that, he licked up the sweat as well; when stray strands of hair tangled against his tongue, he smacked his lips and swallowed those too. Still unsatisfied, he sucked at Hoeun’s nose, licked his chin. If his mouth had opened like a shikgoe, he might have swallowed Hoeun’s entire face whole.

“Hoeun. Hoeun….”

Taemuk called his name again and again. And despite having just spilled himself so thoroughly, his still-hard length began to move once more.

“Ah….”

A thin, powerless moan drifted from Hoeun.

Hoeun heard Taemuk’s presence as though through sleep. It wasn’t close—more like he was in the next room. Then, at some point, the presence drew nearer and stopped by his pillow.

“…….”

A heavy gaze slowly traced the sleeping Hoeun’s face. The presence moved closer still; a shadow fell across him—

Chuk.

Something warm and soft touched his forehead, then lifted away.

Hoeun stirred awake. For some reason, opening his eyes felt difficult—his lids were unbearably heavy, as though stones had been placed atop them. Still, he scrunched his brows and forced them open.

“Sleep more.”

Taemuk’s voice dropped down over him. Even so, Hoeun stubbornly opened his eyes and looked up at him. Taemuk, dressed in his pitch-black uniform, was bracing himself on the floor, half-lying over Hoeun.

“Are you going out?”

Hoeun asked, blinking slowly with swollen eyes. His voice, still thick with sleep, was lower and drier than usual. Taemuk gently stroked his cheek, then lifted his lower lip to check the sore.

“Yeah.”

“Ah… should I go with you?”

“No. Sleep more. I put more firewood in—this place will stay warm until noon. I’ll tell Chilbok to check on you.”

“But—…”

Hoeun groaned and struggled upright. His body had no strength at all. His spine felt chilled; his eyes dry—clear signs that he was about to fall ill.

He must have overdone it yesterday. With a sore mouth, barely eating, crying all day, then feasting and singing outside—and on top of that, taking Taemuk inside him….

Hoeun rubbed his eyes hard with the side of his hand. Taemuk caught his wrist and lowered it.

“I said it’s fine. I’ll just do a quick patrol and be right back.”

“….”

Hoeun looked at him quietly—I want to go with you, written plainly in his gaze. Taemuk pressed a firm hand to his shoulder.

“Sleep.”

Worry filled Taemuk’s eyes. He must have sensed that Hoeun’s condition wasn’t good. Hoeun knew that Taemuk was worried—and because he knew, he couldn’t insist any further.

He smiled faintly and took Taemuk’s hand.

“Don’t get hurt.”

“Okay.”

“Come back soon.”

“Okay.”

“….”

“….”

Their brief farewell ended there, yet neither could bring themselves to let go right away. Hoeun stared down at their clasped hands. Strangely, they wouldn’t part. Even if they met again by nightfall, it felt unbearably regrettable.

Still—he had to let go.

Slowly, Hoeun loosened his grip. Taemuk held on a moment longer, then released him with a short sigh.

“I’m going.”

“Yes.”

Only after laying Hoeun back down and pulling the blanket up to his chin did Taemuk rise. Hoeun watched him go. It would have been proper to jump up and see him off, but he didn’t want to push aside the blanket Taemuk had tucked around him.

Taemuk glanced back several times before finally leaving the room. The paper door opened and closed; his shadow showed him sitting on the porch, pulling on his boots.

Even his shadow was so large—so thick—so unmistakably masculine.

Hoeun pulled the blanket up to his nose and smiled to himself. Then, just as Taemuk stood—

Something occurred to him.

“Ah—G-General! W-wait! Please wait a moment!”

Startled by the sudden shout, Taemuk threw the door open.

“What. What is it?”

“Just a moment! Please wait!”

Hoeun sprang up. Dizziness surged and he staggered, but he caught himself against the wall.

“Careful.”

Taemuk snapped irritably, already stepping onto the porch—clearly ready to rush in if Hoeun lost his balance.

“Just a moment….”

Repeating himself, Hoeun shuffled toward the adjoining room. His steps were unsteady, yet his cheeks were oddly lifted, his expression bright with anticipation.

Taemuk followed along the porch and slid open the door to see Hoeun kneeling before a chest, his head buried inside it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a mooooment….”

Hoeun dragged out the word while rummaging through the chest. It was one of the boxes Byeonguk had brought from Hoeun’s family home—filled with clothes, hair ribbons, books, money, and other personal things his parents had packed for him.

After digging around for some time, Hoeun finally pulled something out.

“Found it….”

A radiant smile bloomed across his face. He hugged the item to his chest and rose—then belatedly noticed that his knees felt sticky. Looking down, he saw ointment smeared thickly over his bruised knees beneath his fluttering undergarment.

It was obvious who had done it. Taemuk must have worried about the redness and applied it while Hoeun slept.

Hoeun’s lips curved upward.

“Choi Hoeun.”

Taemuk called him.

“Ah—I’m coming.”

Hoeun hurried over, clutching what he’d found. He knelt just inside the doorway.

“Don’t kneel like that. You’re bruised.”

Taemuk said disapprovingly.

“Ah—yes.”

Hoeun slid aside to sit instead. The posture made him look like a fragile woman with a story to tell, but that didn’t matter. He swallowed dryly and held out the item.

“Um… this.”

Taemuk cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not hurt.”

What Hoeun offered was a handkerchief—white, soft. The one Hoeun always used to wipe Taemuk’s blood, or clean water from his skin.

Caught off guard, Taemuk checked his hands, then rubbed his face, as if suspecting he’d missed an injury. Nothing.

“That’s not it… it’s yours, General.”

“Mine?”

Taemuk alternated glances between the handkerchief and Hoeun.

“M-My mother made it.”

“…What?”

“I wrote in my letter that you’re often injured, that you lose a lot of blood. I think that’s why she sent it.”

“….”

Taemuk stared at the cloth, unsettled. Hoeun hurriedly explained.

“S-She embroidered flowers on it. Azaleas—flowers that bloom first when winter ends and spring begins. Their petals are so delicate they fall even in the wind—”

“Delicate? What, telling me to die early?”

Taemuk frowned.

“N-No! She meant that since they’re delicate, you shouldn’t take it out often—just keep it close to you.”

“What kind of logic is that.”

“She hoped you wouldn’t have to use it to wipe blood… that you wouldn’t bleed at all.”

“….”

Taemuk stared at the embroidery. Pink, pale violet, deep purple threads formed azaleas at every corner—one bloom here, two there, a cluster elsewhere, with stamens and stems. Even someone utterly ignorant like Taemuk could tell how much care had gone into it.