BW C92

Chapter 92

 

“D-don’t… don’t do that.”

Hoeun covered his mouth with one hand and stared at Taemuk as though he were some monster. At that look, Taemuk’s lips twisted. Hoeun, trembling so violently from nothing more than his tongue being pressed, was pathetic—and at the same time, irritating. He wanted to break him.

“Undress and get in while I’m saying it nicely.”

“But—”

“Isn’t it about time you learned that saying no won’t change a thing?”

With those words, Taemuk stripped off the rest of his robe as if there were nothing more to discuss. Then he shed the rest of his clothes in one sweep, bare at last, and strode toward the tub. He doused himself once with a large ladle of water, then stepped inside. His massive frame sent the hot water surging over the rim, spilling across the floor.

“….”

Hoeun silently watched his back. Across it ran a long gash, whether claw or talon he could not tell. As the water touched it, blood streamed down like tears from the torn flesh, yet Taemuk did not let out even the smallest groan.

“….”

Seeing it, Hoeun found he could no longer refuse him.

Yes. Why had he come this far? Hadn’t it been to ease his pain, even a little—to help him as his guide? To shrink back now, at this very moment, would be to deny his own worth.

With a shaky breath, Hoeun turned away and began to peel off his clothes piece by piece. The sodden fabric clung stubbornly to his skin, but still he shed them—his over-robe, his tunic, his jacket—until only his thin underclothes remained. There he faltered.

“….”

Did he truly have to bare himself completely? Every thread gone? Taemuk was already naked, yes, but that did not mean he had to be. Surely his usefulness as a guide did not depend on being utterly unclothed.

Hoeun searched desperately for a reason to keep the undergarment on. The room was too bright—the lanterns and candles placed thickly all around left nowhere for shadows to hide. After a moment’s struggle, he decided. He would not remove it.

It was already soaked through, clinging transparent to his body—but even the pretense of cloth left him feeling a little less exposed.

One by one, he folded the rest of his garments neatly aside. At last, he turned to Taemuk.

“I-I’ll… come in now.”

“….”

Taemuk gave no reply. Hoeun swallowed hard and edged toward the tub. Clutching the rim, he eased one foot into the water. His cold-numbed skin prickled, stung as the heat bit in.

He groaned softly as he dipped the other foot, then slid in beside Taemuk. His thin frame displaced no water at all.

“….”

Hoeun stared fixedly ahead, eyes wide, barely daring to breathe. Yet every nerve was fixed on the man beside him.

“….”

Taemuk said nothing. Did nothing.

Silence pressed down. The only sounds were the rain hammering the roof, the drip of water gathering and falling, and Taemuk’s slow breaths.

Almost without realizing, Hoeun found his own breath catching, matching his rhythm. Then Taemuk lifted one arm to rest it along the rim. The movement sent the water rocking, curling over Hoeun’s body.

Hoeun stiffened, stretching his neck tight. It was only the water’s sway—yet it felt like Taemuk’s touch.

“I-it’s cramped, isn’t it? I-I’ll move over.”

He babbled nonsense and shuffled awkwardly toward the far side. In crawling away, his rear rose clear in Taemuk’s sight. His underclothes clung wet and sheer, the pale flesh beneath near fully exposed. Thin fabric, soaked, only made it more obscene.

But Hoeun, head filled only with escape, noticed nothing.

“….”

Taemuk’s lips curved faintly, then eased. Raised soft as moonlight, that pale backside—Hoeun could be dimwitted, sheltered as he was, but in those moments he became indecent. And Taemuk had no intention of denying himself the view.

It was a long crawl before Hoeun reached the far wall and sat back, pressing his spine against it. He glanced up—

“….”

“….”

Their eyes met.

And with it, the full breadth of Taemuk’s naked form, his sculpted frame revealed without shame.

“Ah…”

A thin gasp slipped from Hoeun’s lips. The tub’s round shape was merciless—sit far and they were forced to face one another, draw close and the sight was even more unbearable. Flustered, he splashed water over his face with quick slaps.

“….”

But Taemuk’s gaze clung. Hoeun flicked his eyes to him, only to find those dark eyes fixed not on his face but lower. He followed their line down—

And saw through the soaked cloth, his chest bared. Nipples flushed from the chill, hardened stiff beneath the thin wet layer.

“U-ugh…”

A strangled sound left him as he clutched his chest, covering it with both hands.

“D-don’t look.”

Taemuk snorted.

“Don’t look, don’t come close, don’t touch.”

“….”

“What am I supposed to do then.”

“….”

Hoeun’s lips pressed shut. He kept forgetting—forgetting that he had followed Taemuk even here, into Ramjae, into this tub, all for his sake. And now he sat apart, putting distance between them.

But… how was he to close it?

Shame burned him. Fear pinned him.

He exhaled softly. Taemuk ran a wet hand back through his hair, baring his strong brow and cutting gaze.

“I’m sparing you.”

“…What?”

“I just don’t want to see you thrash and scream no.”

“….”

Hoeun frowned before he could stop himself. Sparing him? What exactly had he spared—until he recalled.

That large hand had once gripped his hair, forcing him down until his mouth split. His throat had been speared, merciless. He had been pinned, legs spread wide beneath him, sobbing until his eyes swelled, and still could not escape.

But now? Now Taemuk had not seized him, had not crushed him. He had undressed himself—on his own terms. In the past, he’d have been dragged by the hair and shoved headlong into the tub. By now, he would already have been made to swallow his release once, twice.

Yes. Compared to then, Taemuk was indeed sparing him.

And yet—only because he hated to see his refusal?

…Why? Why now?

Hoeun tilted his head, lost in thought. Taemuk exhaled a long sigh, smoke-like, as though spent by it.

“Before I lose my head and pin you down again, it’ll be easier for both of us if you do what’s needed yourself.”

“….”

Hoeun’s pupils dilated. Fear surged. He had seen Taemuk with his mind overturned, once before—when reason was gone, when no words reached him, when nothing could stop him.

And yes… Taemuk was right. If easing that pain kept him from reaching that state, then it was better for him too.

Hoeun lowered the hands covering his chest. Staring blankly at him, he whispered,

“What… what should I do?”

“….”

“I-I don’t know what act would help you…”

His words tumbled, then fell away as he dropped his gaze. He could not hold those black eyes—they pierced through him, raised gooseflesh even as he sat steeped in hot water.

Taemuk’s lips curved, a dry scoff.

“You know. You’ve done them all.”

“….”

Hoeun’s ears flamed. Images crashed through him—kissing, taking him in his mouth, spilling by his hand, spread beneath him, bent beneath him.

Yes, he knew. But which of those Taemuk wanted now—he could not tell. He only hoped it was not that. Not taking him from behind. That act terrified him. Yet if that was what Taemuk demanded, what choice had he? None.

He bit his lower lip, gaze falling—

“Come here.”

Taemuk crooked a finger.

“….”

Hoeun hesitated, then shuffled toward him on his knees. The water clung and pulled as though to hold him back. Just as he faltered, Taemuk’s hand seized his arm and dragged him forward.

“Ah…”

Water crashed as he was hauled, landing in an instant across Taemuk’s thigh. His ribboned hair floated, then sank like a serpent slipping under.

“….”

Hoeun hunched, shoulders rising, chin tucked. Because beneath him he could feel it—hard, hot, already half-erect.

So that was what Taemuk wanted.

What should he do. How could he endure. Could he endure at all.

Lowering his head, he bit his lip. The picture of a child bracing for punishment.

But—

“….”

Taemuk did nothing. He only looked at him, small and trembling in fear, his body folded tight atop him.