TSBIRBV Ch 189(NSFW)

Chapter 189. Pillow-Side Litigation (16) (NSFW)

“No.”

Yegyeol’s heart did not even have the leisure to sink. Haryang’s face had drawn too close. Black hair clung wetly to pale skin, stark in contrast. Though not corpse-like, his complexion was as white as if painted with powdered chalk.

Even when the disciples of Kunlun returned bronzed by the sun, Haryang alone looked like a refined scholar, delicate and untouchable. In his boyhood, Yegyeol had believed no man could be handsomer. Perhaps that was why—the nostalgia of youth struck him now, deep within, and stirred restlessly.

That a man a head taller than himself could seem almost fragile only proved something in Yegyeol’s thinking had long since gone awry.

“More than that.”

To call him merely “disciple” was far too meager. Every tie Haryang shared with Yegyeol was too precious to be diminished so. If Yegyeol would not let go, then Haryang would greedily gather in even the last slender thread of their bond.

“What do you mean—more than that?”

Yegyeol pressed again, anxious.

“If you desire, I can be anything.”

It would be easier had he simply said no. Anything was too vague, too dangerous.

Someone as brazen as Yegyeol could take such words and perch atop Haryang’s head, prancing there until the inevitable fall came. He wanted only to climb as far as Haryang allowed, no further.

“You do not understand.”

Haryang drew Yegyeol’s wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss into his palm. Lifting his gaze, his eyes were shadowed.

“I shall show you how to use me.”

Use me?

As if he were but an object, Haryang’s tone furrowed Yegyeol’s brow.

Smiling faintly, he tousled Yegyeol’s damp hair, then gathered him up by the waist. As they rose from the hot water, a chill rushed over them. Haryang set him upon the marble edge of the bath, pressed his knees apart, and moved between.

His lips grazed heated skin, sucking lightly at the tender flesh of Yegyeol’s thigh while keeping his gaze fixed upon him.

Flushed crimson, Yegyeol could not look away. With only his upper body rising from the steaming water, his Senior Brother seemed like some jiao-ren—a sea spirit from legend—at once chilling and beguiling, luring men toward the comfort of death.

“Ahhh…!”

Haryang’s bite left faint marks on his thigh before he drew back, lips reddened. Yegyeol hoped in vain that he would stop, but instead his Senior Brother bent and took his shaft into his mouth.

At first only the tip, moving shallowly, teasing, his pointed tongue prodding the opening. As clear fluid beaded there, Haryang parted his lips and swallowed more deeply. His hand kneaded the base, coaxing pleasure.

Despite such ruthless attention, Yegyeol hardened all the more, his shaft rising proudly, as if his Senior Brother were savoring some rare delicacy. His face was serene, luminous, yet the act was unbearably obscene.

“Ahhh…!”

The room seemed too bright. No matter how he tried to turn his head, Yegyeol’s eyes returned to the sight of Haryang, who would glance up and smile as if it were nothing.

Even with his mouth full, he wavered not, his tongue skillful, his lips devouring wholly.

“Kh—hh, ahhh…”

Supporting himself with his arms braced behind, Yegyeol’s waist trembled. His hips jerked, but Haryang held him down easily with only a hand pressing his thigh.

The taste of steam, the sounds of their moans bouncing off stone, the sweetness of damp skin—it all thickened the air. Yegyeol bit his lips to keep cries from spilling out, mind unraveling swiftly.

Soon he thought: perhaps even the flick of his Senior Brother’s finger could leave him in rut. He feared it, yet longed for it.

“Ahh—Senior Brother, stop, please stop—!”

He was on the brink, his legs stiff with tension. Haryang did not withdraw. Instead he swallowed deeper, cheeks hollowing as he drew Yegyeol into his throat. The shattering waves of pleasure crushed Yegyeol’s will.

“Ahhh—ahhh!”

He spilled into his Senior Brother’s mouth. Haryang swallowed it all.

A trace spilled at the corner of his lips; Yegyeol, trembling like a newborn fawn, reached to wipe it away. But before his hand arrived, Haryang licked his lips clean and whispered:

“Thus do you yield yourself to me.”

No stain of lewdness marred his composed mouth.

“Now ask me for anything.”

Resting his head against Yegyeol’s thigh, he spoke softly. Each glimpse of his tongue between his lips made Yegyeol remember the sensation just before.

He had thought Haryang the man most distant from debauchery. Yet the figure before him outstripped even imagination.

“Pillow-side litigation…”

Yegyeol murmured, dizzy from heat and arousal.

“That too is apt,” Haryang answered gently.

“For none but you may share my bed.”

Yegyeol’s eyelids fluttered.

“What if I were to desire something unseemly?”

“Did I not promise? So long as you do not leave me, I shall grant anything.”

His Senior Brother’s reply was gentleness itself. He would never coerce him, never raise his voice. He would treasure him above all else, give joy, give ease.

Enough to drown in, never knowing it was mire.

“What if my wish were to bring another man here?”

Even that provocation could not ruffle his calm.

“Would you allow it?”

He was too generous. He had once ceded a great merchant house without protest, had encouraged vengeance, had never shown displeasure when Yegyeol lay with the Black Ghost. Perhaps he truly would allow anything—so long as Yegyeol remained.

But Yegyeol wanted not such vast freedom. He wanted only his Senior Brother’s arms.

“The dead cannot share lust or love. To bed one would be meaningless.”

His tone, elegant as ever, concealed the cruelty of the truth: any rival would be slain before they could enter his bed.

That ruthlessness reassured Yegyeol. At least his Senior Brother’s jealousy was real.

“I am cold. Let us go back into the water.”

Though no draft entered the steamy chamber, he said it smoothly.

Haryang said nothing, only lifted him and stepped into the bath. Despite his wet weight, it was as if he carried a pebble.

Movement was harder underwater, but Yegyeol braced himself against the wall. In his Senior Brother’s arms, he lingered, hesitating.

With lazy eyes, Haryang simply watched. He could have held him there forever.

At last Yegyeol raised a hand above the surface, drew his Senior Brother’s face close, and met his gaze squarely.

“You must keep your promise.”

With that whisper, he kissed him. His lips pressed first, gentle and sweet.

“Ahh…”

Haryang’s eyes closed as Yegyeol’s arms wound about his neck. The disciple’s tongue slid into his mouth, careful, as if rehearsing what Haryang had once taught.

Even knowing those lips had moments ago held his own seed, Yegyeol found only sweetness there.

I was never in my right mind, was I…

When he opened his eyes, Haryang’s face was flushed. Not from the heat. They both knew it.

He tried to rise but was held, squirming in strong arms.

“What favor shall I grant?”

Haryang’s caress traced his back as he asked, tender as ever.

Yegyeol lowered his eyes, feigning hesitation, and murmured:

“…I wish to see Baembaemi.”

For he already had a plan.