BW C94

Chapter 94

Hoeun’s ears flushed faintly red.

“N-no… right? Then please let go of my foot. It’s uncomfortable.”

It was the first time in his life he had sat with one leg held aloft like this. The unfamiliar posture made his inner thigh ache and his back cramp. But then—

“If I let go.”

Taemuk spoke words without explanation.

“…What?”

Hoeun waited for what would follow.

“….”

But Taemuk said nothing. Hoeun blinked, trying to guess the rest. If I let go… If I let go… What words would come after? If I let go, what will you do for me? That seemed most likely.

“….”

Hoeun glanced at Taemuk’s torso. The smaller wounds, the shallow cuts, seemed to have closed. But the larger ones still remained. It appeared that holding his hands or feet wasn’t enough. Which meant a deeper act was needed…

Before I lose my mind and crush you again, it’ll be easier for both of us if you do what’s needed yourself.

Taemuk’s earlier words resurfaced. Before he “lost his mind,” Hoeun had to act. Something “suitable.” Something sufficient for Taemuk, yet not unbearable for him. Holding hands was too little. Taking him inside was too much. Something in between…

Like calculating an equation, Hoeun weighed the acts, subtracting and adding, until finally, he reached his answer.

“Should I… kiss you?”

“….”

At once, Taemuk’s chest swelled, his wounds tearing just enough for blood to bead out—but he paid it no mind. He feigned thought, then nodded.

“Not bad.”

He released Hoeun’s foot. It splashed back into the water, and Hoeun, unprepared, nearly toppled backward. Flailing like a grasshopper, he was caught by the arm and pulled upright again, Taemuk looking at him with disdain.

“Ahem…”

Hoeun cleared his throat for no reason, scooped water with his palm to wash his face, and smoothed his damp hair behind his ears. He swallowed hard, then lifted his head toward Taemuk’s lips.

“….”

The height difference was too great—no matter how he stretched his neck, his lips only hovered near Taemuk’s throat. If only Taemuk would lean down. But the faint smile on his lips made it clear he had no intention of helping. Hoeun sighed heavily.

“P-pardon me then.”

Carefully, he set his hands on Taemuk’s shoulders. They were so broad his fingers couldn’t wrap around, but solid enough to support his weight. He braced himself with shoulders and knees, slowly rising until he could meet his gaze.

“Then… I-I’ll kiss you now.”

Hoeun sought permission like a dutiful servant. Closing his eyes tight, he leaned forward. Their lips touched—just touched.

“….”

For three breaths, Hoeun pressed his lips there, soft and still. Then he pulled back, eyes shining brightly, as if to say: There. It’s done. You’re healed now, aren’t you?

Taemuk let out a scoffing laugh.

“That’s it?”

“…What?”

“That’s all?”

“Uh… should I do it again?”

Hoeun asked innocently, and Taemuk exhaled hard, irritation flaring. He seized Hoeun’s chin and tugged him close, thrusting his forefinger deep into the small mouth.

Caught off guard, Hoeun twisted his head, but Taemuk gripped his jaw firm, sliding his middle finger in after.

“Mmph—”

Hoeun’s eyes went wide, staring up at him. Taemuk stirred his fingers roughly within his mouth as he spoke.

“I told you once.”

“…Mmph?”

“I was born low. I like vulgar things.”

“….”

“A kiss like that can’t soothe my battered body—or my lust.”

He pressed down on Hoeun’s tongue with forefinger and middle, lifting it like chopsticks. When he brushed the root, Hoeun gagged, coughing hard—and Taemuk, enjoying it, pushed deeper.

Though his body was frail, Hoeun’s tongue was thick and plump, indecently so. It looked made for this, made to be defiled. It thrilled Taemuk.

He ransacked his mouth, stirring, scraping, twisting. Wet sounds filled the air—slurps, squelches, clicks, obscene and shameless. Hoeun’s back curled inward with every noise.

“Huuh… mm, mmn…”

He shook his head desperately, as if to say stop. When that failed, he gripped Taemuk’s wrist, trying to pull free. But the thick bones and cords of muscle would not budge. He tilted his head back instead—

“Pull them out, and I’ll shove something else in.”

Taemuk’s voice dropped low.

“….”

Hoeun froze. Something else. The phrase could mean many things—but inevitably, his mind went first to Taemuk’s sex. He’d taken it in his mouth before. And now, he could feel it, hard, swollen, prodding against him even now.

His eyes flicked up. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed his lips again around Taemuk’s fingers, which had nearly slipped free. Between cock and fingers, he chose the lesser.

Taemuk’s lips curled knowingly. His voice turned almost generous, like he was granting a gift.

“Then suck. As vulgar as you can.”

“….”

Vulgar. Hoeun turned the word over with the fingers in his mouth. But what counted as vulgar?

He knew what vulgarity was, in the way of morals: insulting one’s parents, harming others, ignoring injustice, abusing women or children. But what Taemuk meant was clearly something else.

He looked up, blank and proper-faced, the picture of a scholar’s son. Taemuk snorted, then wiggled his fingers within.

“Then at least suck.”

At last, Hoeun nodded. He cupped Taemuk’s wrist carefully and began. He closed his lips around the fingers, tightening his mouth, drawing hard—slurp, slurp.

“….”

Taemuk’s brows twitched. Hoeun peeked at him nervously, wondering if he had failed again—but the lack of reprimand meant he’d gotten it right this time.

Encouraged, he sucked harder. His cheeks hollowed, his palate ached, his lips tingled. He worked earnestly, as though his life depended on it.

But his frail stamina wore down quickly. It was easier than sucking Taemuk’s cock, yes, but still draining. His appetite was small, his mouth weak; how could he sustain sucking on something that gave nothing back?

“….”

With the fingers still filling his mouth, Hoeun hesitated. Then he pulled back, releasing them. Taemuk’s brow furrowed instantly.

Lick.

Hoeun ran his tongue along the length of the fingers, from base to tip. He spread it wide, lapping two at once, then split them, licking each in turn. Sometimes he sucked just the tips, sometimes the sides, head tilted, mouth working diligently.

It was what he’d been taught. Taemuk had shown him how to suck his cock this way. Fingers weren’t so different—long, thick, just smaller. He figured the method was the same.

At last, he drew both back into his mouth, sucking deep with a wet slurp.

“….”

Taemuk exhaled hard through his nose, the hot, dense breath falling on Hoeun’s lashes. They fluttered as he blinked—

And then, with a slick sound, the fingers slipped free. His lower lip stretched and snapped back into place.

Hoeun smacked his lips unconsciously at the sudden emptiness. In the next instant, Taemuk seized the back of his head and yanked him forward. Water surged around them as their mouths crashed together.

“Mmph—”

Their lips locked, and Taemuk shoved his tongue inside. Hoeun’s mouth, already flushed hot from sucking, was wet and slick, saliva thick and clinging.

“Hah…”

Taemuk’s eyes creased. The instant he felt that heat, that soft inner wall, his blood sang. The pounding in his skull eased into clarity, pain melting into hunger.

Clutching the back of Hoeun’s head, he devoured him. Tongues clashed, spit tangled. Their lips pressed flat with force, teeth clicking together now and again—but Taemuk did not relent, kissing him deeper still.