TSBIRBV Ch 201(NSFW)

Chapter 201. Forgiveness (3)(NSFW)

“…Yes.”

Yegyeol’s answer slipped out with startling ease.

If Haryang had deceived him a hundred times, then he had deceived Haryang a hundred and one.

At their core, the two of them were no different from players at a card table.

Each concealed their hand, each bluffed and misled. But victory over the other was never the point.

What they truly desired was only this: that the game might never end.

“I’m better at lying than Senior Brother.”

Even at that confession, Haryang’s heart sank.

He had always known his disciple harbored secrets. He had suspected it from the beginning.

The fact that Yegyeol, thought dead, lived again. That though he appeared slightly older, he still bore the form of a youth. That his body healed with eerie speed, and yet found solace only in Haryang’s touch.

Too convenient to be believed outright. The disciple he had reunited with seemed a dream, spun of longing and falsehoods.

So how could he bear to wake?

“You mean… you lied.”

He had never expected Yegyeol to admit it aloud.

He had already investigated in secret, tracing his disciple’s steps, suspecting he might have been a subject of the Magician’s experiments.

Leaving the Ten Thousand Great Mountains, tempting his enemies into carelessness, even striking down the Gong clan head allied with the Magician—these had all been part of that effort.

Yet no decisive evidence had been found. Nothing, beyond the conjecture that Yegyeol might be the Magician’s most successful creation.

Reuniting after long years, his disciple had felt as though he had simply fallen from the heavens.

“When you thought me the same as in the past, you never confessed such things. Yet only after learning that I am the Heavenly Demon do you call yourself a liar.”

Haryang lifted Yegyeol’s chin with a finger, whispering.

“Are you not afraid of me?”

Afraid?

What a foolish question.

Yegyeol was afraid of him. He always had been. Just as every Esper instinctively feared their Guide, Yegyeol too could not help but guard against Haryang.

In Senior Brother’s hands rested his life, his emotions, his safety—everything. It had been so even before he knew the truth of the Heavenly Demon, and it remained so now.

But such words, he could not bring himself to voice.

“Do you have something you wish to ask me?”

Yegyeol toyed idly with the strands of Haryang’s hair as he spoke.

Receiving only a silent affirmation in the other’s gaze, he curved his lips in the faintest smile.

“If you want something, you’ll have to make your plea in court.”

It sounded like a suggestion, but it was in truth no less than a command.

“And who taught you such impudent words?”

Though he knew the answer already, Haryang’s tone carried a quiet chuckle.

“Who knows.”

Yegyeol shifted his hand, resting his head upon Haryang’s chest as he murmured.

“Some clumsy swindler, or maybe a softhearted villain… I can’t quite remember. You could ask about that too, if you like.”

Haryang laughed low. This was deliberate temptation.

Knowing his disciple, he recognized it as a ploy to divert the subject.

“Once more, this teacher learns greatly from his disciple.”

But if Yegyeol wished to play atop his head, so be it.

Even being toyed with was joy.

“Half my life was spent as a Daoist hermit. So forgive my ignorance of such worldly tricks.”

Daoist hermit—strange words to come from the lips of the Heavenly Demon. Yet it was also the heavy truth.

Lifting himself, Haryang pulled Yegyeol’s wrist close, pressing his lips to its inner side.

It was not a branding iron, yet the searing heat of that touch made Yegyeol’s shoulders flinch.

“Well then. Shall I hear your plea?”

The loosened sash at his disciple’s waist came undone with the lightest tug. Beneath the parted robe, the bare tips of his nipples showed faintly, still clean in color though bitten and sucked many times.

Because Yegyeol’s eyes were fixed upon him, Haryang carefully concealed both his hunger and his disappointment, only stretching out his hand to part his legs. His half-hardened arousal was revealed.

Recalling the wanton body that wept not only above but below, Haryang’s lips curved faintly.

And Yegyeol, instead of shying away, gazed at him with eyes filled not with shame but with expectation.

Thirst welled within him. Haryang licked his lips. That thirst, his ever-weeping disciple would quench.

“Ah!”

When Haryang bent his head toward his lower gate, Yegyeol clutched at the sheets unthinkingly.

His tongue’s soft pressure against the puckered rim sent chills racing up Yegyeol’s spine.

He had thought the tongue would push inside, yet it lingered only around, slicking him with wetness. Each teasing brush—almost, not quite—kept him taut with tension.

As embers swell into flame, desire he thought exhausted rose once more.

When the sharp line of Haryang’s nose pressed against his perineum, Yegyeol’s shoulders stiffened—then shivered as the tongue traced after it.

“Hhh… hhhhnn…”

Like a wolf stripping marrow from bone, Haryang devoured every part of him below. From the rim, to the perineum, to beneath his sac.

The raw, unaccustomed sensations brought heat to Yegyeol’s eyes.

It was not savage so much as relentless. Not relentless so much as ravenous.

That this dignified Senior Brother was mouthing at his lower parts only deepened the delirium.

Already his cock was weeping clear fluid.

“You—you told me not to eat strange things, and now…”

He muttered, whining between moans.

“Strange? How could such a sweet, lewd body be strange?”

Pausing his teasing, Haryang whispered tenderly.

“Give me more. Mm?”

That coaxing tone was the last mercy.

His tongue traced every inch below his shaft, rubbing his nose along the length. Then lower still, lapping insistently at his perineum.

The obscene sensation made Yegyeol try to close his legs, but Haryang showed no sign of withdrawing.

Each time his body began to melt, he would scrape with teeth, restoring tautness. Under his skilled caress, Yegyeol’s vision grew hazy.

Perhaps it was the collapse of Chilgwae-dong earlier, but tonight his body craved guiding more fiercely than ever.

Was pleasure following the guiding, or guiding chasing the pleasure? He could not tell.

Each shift of his hips bared the sharp points of his nipples, already stiff beneath his disheveled robe.

“Ahhh!”

Knees once locked stiff buckled more with every collapse.

“S-Senior Brother, stop…! Just put it in, just…”

Flushed as though drunk, Yegyeol pleaded.

But when Haryang lifted his head slowly, Yegyeol’s hopeful gaze met only the black of eyes dripping lust. His straight lips shone, wet with saliva or something more.

Just the sight seared down his nerves, rekindling tension in his lax body.

“Did you not say I must hear your plea, Yegyeol?”

His lips curled in a sinful arc.

“Then whatever I give, you must take it all.”

The words were gentle in tone, yet tyrannical in meaning.

As Haryang lowered his head again, Yegyeol swallowed hard. The man tapped lightly at his thigh, then kneaded it like dough.

And then—he pushed his tongue inside.

“Ah!”

He thought he had been driven to the limit already, but the slick intrusion against his inner walls scattered his thoughts.

Haryang devoured him with the persistence of one savoring a delicacy saved for last.

The higher the pleasure surged, the sharper and colder the pressure of climax coiled within him.

“S-stop, please stop… Senior Brother, not there—ahh!”

Yegyeol shook his head, sobbing. He reached out to push him away, only to be seized, made captive.

He thought he had shoved with all his might, yet Haryang did not budge an inch.

“I—I’m going to… no, let me go—”

His babbling broke like an overdrawn bowstring.

“Ahh… ahhh!”

From the tip of his cock spurted not seed, but something clear as water.

Haryang did not withdraw. He only watched in silence as the translucent liquid splattered across the bedpost, the floor, the walls—staining everything with lewd marks.

The sight made Yegyeol’s shoulders quake violently, as though something inside him had snapped.

“Hhh—hhhk… I told you… l-let me go…”

His tongue faltered, his words slurred. He knew he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, but shame-frozen reason would not move.

“H-how… soaked, it’s… all wet…”

He muttered incoherently.

Smearing his tear-stained face against Haryang’s chest as if refusing to part, he trembled.

“Shall we let you choose the wood for our new bed, Yegyeol?”

Even in that gentle suggestion, Yegyeol refused to lift his face from his Senior Brother’s chest.

“…This time, perhaps something darker would be better.”