TSBIRBV Ch 186(NSFW)

Chapter 186. Pillow-Side Litigation (13) (NSFW)

“Too… too much… Black Ghost, my lord… Black Ghost… ah!”

Rocking his hips, rubbing himself against the hardness pressing into his lower belly, Yegyeol poured desperate pleas together with a venomous longing into Haryang.

He knew full well that what he was doing bordered on madness. To thrust himself down onto Haryang’s shaft so abruptly, knowing he might bleed if his body failed to keep up, was self-inflicted punishment.

But people lose themselves not to what they hold, but to what slips away. Especially once they realize what they thought was secure might vanish at any moment—the fear that follows becomes a torment all its own.

Yegyeol feared abandonment. That fear drove his desperation.

He lived because of me, and because he lived, he became the Heavenly Demon.

That truth curdled the affection Haryang once bore him into something harsher, more tangled. Yegyeol had no idea how to root such poison out.

He remembered the cold, searing guiding that had once strangled him. He had embraced that madness even as it closed around his throat. Now that he understood its true nature, it only ached all the more.

And when the longing and the guilt were spent—what then? Would his Senior Brother still keep him at his side?

Yegyeol did not want to know the answer. Better to stir Haryang, to cloud his thoughts, to drive him into chaos, even if it meant becoming a debased, shameless disciple. So long as he remained forever in his arms.

“Yegyeol…”

His name fell with a hot breath upon his ear, quiet and weighted with conflict. It was not joy.

Yegyeol broke into sobs. His body would not obey him no matter how he tried, and the sorrow of helplessness welled out in tears. His hips rolled, pressing down with clumsy, instinctive sensuality. The body that once knew nothing of desire had been taught allure only by Haryang, and thus its trembling was all the more intoxicating.

A wet sound came from within. Having already spent in Yegyeol’s mouth, the dampness between them was nothing but his own spilled essence mixed with the slick arousal that leaked from Haryang’s tip. It should have hurt more than it pleased, and yet Yegyeol’s flushed face was drowned in ecstasy.

“Hot… it’s so hot… ah, ahh…!”

His eyes, hazy with heat, darted up at him in pleading glances even as his hips ground greedily.

Haryang knew who Yegyeol had once sought when his body fell into heat. It was natural, then, that in such a delirious state he would call not for Je Haryang, but for the Black Ghost—it was what felt most familiar.

Cold reason told him this. After all, the Black Ghost and Haryang were one.

But what rose within him now was jealousy.

It was not like the wary suspicion he had once harbored toward the young Namgung heir. No, it was something far darker. He envied the broken man to whom Yegyeol had once offered comfort. He coveted the nights where Yegyeol’s arms clung around his neck until dawn came thin and gray.

Why had he not been honest from the beginning? The thought burned in him. He had guarded their bond too preciously, too carefully, and in the end, Yegyeol had still uncovered the truth.

So this was inevitable all along.

He had stumbled blindly after fleeting sweetness, and now he reaped its cost.

From the start, he had never truly coveted Yegyeol’s body as himself. To hold him as the Black Ghost carried little weight in his mind. So long as no other laid claim, that sufficed. It was a mistake—a dangerous complacency.

“This Senior Brother has erred.”

His hand wrapped firmly around Yegyeol’s waist. The younger man, who had been writhing, flinched as his shoulder trembled under Haryang’s grip. His lips pressed against Yegyeol’s collarbone, then traced upward in a slow, deliberate lick.

The skin was as pale as milk, carrying the faint tang of salt as his tongue wandered. Another hand slid slowly down his spine, savoring the delicate tremors of a body that seemed as though it might shatter in his hold.

“To think I let you pine for another man… I have no face left to show you, Yegyeol.”

Those tear-brimmed eyes gazed back, not comprehending. Haryang’s hand pressed down upon his trembling shoulders.

“Hh… haah…?”

The legs that had fought to stay braced suddenly gave way. Yegyeol collapsed, forced down upon his Senior Brother’s shaft.

Pleasure or pain—he could not tell. Lightning seared through his spine, blinding his vision white.

“Uhh—ah…!”

A ragged cry slipped through parted lips as he gasped helplessly.

“Deeper. Yegyeol, if you only take me shallowly like this…”

Haryang’s whisper burned against his ear as he embraced him, feeling how feverishly hot his body had become. He thought it was lust alone that drove this heat, never imagining the stirrings of antidote at work, and so pressed him harder without hesitation.

Yegyeol’s fragile frame quivered, trembling against him as the relentless thrusts rolled into his depths. His arms shook where they clung to Haryang’s shoulders.

Each futile twist of his hips only dragged that thick length against the tender walls inside, grinding the sensitive spot mercilessly. His body jerked each time it was pressed.

“Ahh—ahhh!”

The tip of Yegyeol’s manhood spilled thin seed without his touch.

“Good… it feels so good…”

“Only when I fill you this deep.”

“Hhh—ahhh!”

Haryang abandoned restraint. His hips struck hard, breath rough and guttural between words.

“So that you weep.”

The tears hanging from Yegyeol’s lashes streamed freely. Haryang caught them with his tongue.

“Ahh…!”

Even a brush of his hand down his spine made Yegyeol shiver and cling, his gaze blurred in delirious bliss.

Haryang toppled him back against the bedding. The wide bed, reserved for the Heavenly Demon, was already stained with wetness like a child’s accident.

He still remembered the sight that had greeted him upon entering—the disciple trembling, clutching a wooden toy between his thighs in a futile attempt to find release. It had been poison to his veins.

Those schemers who sent assassins to kill him were fools. He had walked straight into his own ruin of his own will.

“Ahhht!”

As Haryang finally began to move within him, Yegyeol’s cries twisted at his lips. His legs hung open, too weak to close around him.

“S-slowly, Black Ghost…”

He begged, breath ragged.

“Why? Did that other man take you slowly?”

His Senior Brother’s voice was soft, almost kind, but laden with sharp meaning.

“Surely not.”

But there was no time for thought. His hips slammed in deep, forcing Yegyeol’s breath to catch in his throat.

“Hhhk—!”

“Tell me, which man was patient enough? Hm?”

Gentle kisses scattered along his ear, down his jaw, even as his lower body was driven mercilessly open.

Pinned beneath him, Yegyeol could not even tremble. The weight crushed him, yet wrapped him in warmth—the only world he had left.

“Haa… nghh—!”

His ear was seized, nipped and licked, lips grazing his throat. Though whole, he felt as though he were being devoured piece by piece.

“Ahh—ahh, it feels… so good…”

He was grateful his hands remained bound. In his drowning state, he could never have found the strength to cling.

Haryang plunged deeper, striking that hidden place inside until his belly clenched. The sight of his abdomen trembling with each thrust melted his mind anew. Tears streamed unchecked down his face, licked up by Haryang’s tongue.

Blinking through the dizziness, he met the black, shadowed gaze above.

“Senior… Brother…”

“No. No.”

A hand lifted his face gently, steadying him as though to teach a lesson.

“You must not call the man before you Senior Brother.”

Even after countless corrections, the disciple still clung to the name. So Haryang explained patiently, almost tenderly:

“The traitor of Kunlun. The hound of the Demonic Sect. The sworn enemy of the orthodox world.”

His tone was as it once had been, when he guided clumsy juniors on the training grounds, adjusting their grip on wooden swords, correcting the angle of their feet, their shoulders.

“And the man who now longs to ravish the last disciple who dares still call him Senior Brother…”

His hand caressed the arm hooked around his neck, then pressed a kiss into its crook.

“…is nothing more than a lawless beast.”