TSBIRBV Ch 157(NSFW)

Chapter 157 An Offer That Cannot Be Refused (3)(NSFW)

Haryang’s ragged breath poured onto his shoulder.

“…I finished inside again.”

By now, he had grown far too accustomed to the incestuous act of burying himself in his own disciple’s slit. In truth, even the first time he had taken Yegyeol, he had felt a lust greater than any guilt.

“I-it’s… fine.”

The man drew back, pressing down Yegyeol’s thrashing legs as he pulled himself out. The sight of his disciple’s belly, slightly distended then caving as his shaft slid free, was perversely arousing.

“Ahh, hhhk!”

Even as the softened shaft withdrew, Yegyeol shuddered violently at the scraping sensation against his walls.

When the glans finally slipped free, he could feel the semen, spilled deep inside, trickling down. Even as he tried to clamp shut, the man’s long, firm fingers pried him open.

“S-stop, please—ugh…”

“Leave it be and you’ll get a stomachache.”

The dry, mocking tone made Yegyeol bite his lip and turn his head aside. At last, the milky fluid within spilled out.

The Black Ghost’s discarded robe was, of all things, dark-colored. The stark white of semen dripping in thick streams across it formed an indecent contrast.

“And besides…”

His finger plunged back in, circling deliberately. Residue, trapped within, oozed from the stretched opening.

“If you’re full already, it will be troublesome—we’re only just beginning.”

Soon, the teasing fingers withdrew, replaced by the blunt press of a glans at his entrance. The second penetration was rough and unrestrained.

“Ahhh!”

Having climaxed once already, Yegyeol’s over-sensitized walls clasped greedily around him.

Pleasure shot from his core to the crown of his head, leaving him helpless but to pant raggedly.

As if knowing exactly why Yegyeol’s cries scattered incoherently, the Black Ghost nipped lightly at his lips and began to move his hips.

The steady rhythm of advance and retreat rocked him like a skiff on waves—close to seasickness, yet filled with heat.

“Haa… haa…”

Though slower, the sensation was no less overwhelming. If anything, it was deeper, fuller. When he thrust with force, the sheer girth threatened to choke him from within.

Forced to tense his belly to bear the intrusion, Yegyeol thought his body might seize. Their clasped hands grew slick, whether from sweat, fluids, or the very air turned thick with heat.

His gaze roved the ceiling in a daze, catching sight of a hidden stain behind the shelves. He realized he’d never noticed it before—cleverly concealed by the bookcase.

From now on, whenever he entered this room with business partners, the memory of today would haunt him.

Even the air itself, once cold, now felt painted in fevered hues.

“You feel it so keenly.”

Withdrawing, the Black Ghost brushed his fingers across the dip of Yegyeol’s navel, then thrust back inside. His rhythm was gentle enough for Yegyeol to follow, yet erratic enough to keep him off guard.

Without replying, Yegyeol yanked down the man’s collar and bit his shoulder. Compared to the bites he himself had endured, his was but a faint mark.

“Why… why so slow…?”

“I know you prefer it rough.”

The man’s laugh was cold.

“But if I lose control now, it will be troublesome.”

“Wh-why…?”

Whether sprinting or pacing, his breath came in broken gasps all the same.

“Because it’s daytime. Isn’t this usually when you’d be working?”

Sweeping back Yegyeol’s fallen hair, Haryang murmured in his ear.

“You have to return to your duties, don’t you?”

Though he knew perfectly well Yegyeol would be too drained to lift a brush, he still said it—an excuse, surely, to hide something else.

Does it have to do with not covering his eyes?

Perhaps immersion broke his disguise technique—was that it?

“Ahh!”

No sooner had he reasoned than the Black Ghost speared deep, shocking his softened body with sharp pleasure. Reflex tightened his passage.

“Don’t corner me too much.”

His low whisper accompanied relentless thrusts, leaving Yegyeol crying out feverishly.

“Black Ghost… ah, Black Ghost…”

Through panting breaths, he stubbornly repeated the name. The man’s scarred face twisted—not from pain, but from holding back.

Grotesque though the scars might be, Yegyeol had never seen a sight more rapturous.

“…Ah?”

He jolted. For an instant, Haryang’s hand felt larger—no, had it shrunk?

Then the Black Ghost abruptly pulled out, unsated. Yegyeol groaned with loss, like a child denied candy.

A hand clamped over his eyes, sealing out every hint of light. Trembling, he whispered,

“Black Ghost…?”

“I nearly showed you something unsightly.”

The urgency with which his sight was covered clashed with the strange calm of his voice.

“…I thought perhaps it might be fine, but that was only arrogance.”

It wasn’t his imagination—the hand over his face felt softer. The signature scars of the Black Ghost had vanished; if he judged by touch alone, he would swear it belonged to a scholar.

Ha.

Yegyeol wetted his lips. If he could escape this grip, he was sure he’d finally behold his true senior brother.

But just as Cinderella fled at midnight, Haryang could vanish at any moment.

“Then… I’ll keep my eyes shut. Cover them again.”

“…Ah. I’ve been found out.”

“You’ve always held me with your eyes covered. Only today was different. I thought it meant your heart had changed… but if there’s something you don’t want me to see, I won’t force it.”

Even so, Haryang’s hand lingered.

“Hurry.”

At that single urging, his iron grip relented.

Part of him wondered—what if his disciple peeked? He had resolved to accept exposure.

But Yegyeol lay there, obedient and earnest as always, eyes closed tight.

Staring at the lashes casting shadows across his pale face, Haryang let out a hollow laugh.

“Ah…”

“Black Ghost?”

Naked, spread open, his disciple was utterly defenseless before a man he barely knew.

The reddened thighs, marred with fading handprints—the anxious tilt of his blindfolded face—all of it drew laughter from him.

“Haha…”

“Black Ghost, ahh—”

Before he could hear that hated name again, Haryang claimed his lips.

He bit down on the lower lip, forcing his disciple to open. He drank his saliva greedily, filling him with breath.

“Hhhnn…”

Caressing the furrowed brows clenched shut, he tore his sleeve and bound Yegyeol’s eyes. Now the end was near.

Hoisting him, the Black Ghost seated him astride his lap.

The entrance, gaping and wanting after being emptied, was filled to the brim once more. The sudden fullness made Yegyeol’s mouth fall open.

His suspicion had been right—when Haryang grew strange, it was because his disguise had faltered. Almost at once, the shaft swelled larger inside him.

“Ahhh! Nghhh!”

The overwhelming girth pried him wide. He coughed, as though choking. Yet because Haryang wore another’s skin, he was no longer afraid of abandoning gentleness.

He wanted to break him—wanted to see if even ruined, Yegyeol would remain so guilelessly pure.

Some days, he wanted to cherish him. Others, to destroy him. Clearly, his mind was unsound.

“Unhh, hahhh…!”

Just the motion of raising and dropping him by the waist made Yegyeol’s body jolt. Arching back, he grabbed Haryang’s arm—then froze.

The muscles were taut, veins bulging, as if sculpted. His fingers traced them, mapping their form.

Unable to see, he saw even more vividly.

It sounded like something written in the margin of some ancient manual of enlightenment. To apply it to such debauchery meant he was truly mad.

“Fuuhhh…”

The hot breath at his ear bristled the hairs on his nape. Clenching down, Yegyeol pressed his face against the man’s chest—pleading for tenderness from one who ravished him savagely.

To outside eyes, it might seem like coaxing. But Yegyeol knew well—he was only urging him on, driving him to shed restraint.

Even if his disguise broke, even if he lost all reason—wasn’t that exactly what Yegyeol wanted?

At last, he won’t stop halfway.

Smirking crookedly, he clung tighter. Even if it lasted till dawn, he would not regret it.

He had been restless since returning to Sichuan, forced to endure too long.

Though patience bore sweet fruit, he craved even this unripe one. Even if it sickened him, he would swallow seed and all.

He had always been that kind of man—

A brazen disciple, blinded by desire, who saw neither sect nor senior brother.