TSBIRBV Ch 202(NSFW)

Chapter 202. Forgiveness (4)(NSFW)

“Eh…?”

Yegyeol murmured blankly, staring up at Haryang’s face.

‘Did I hear him right?’

His Senior Brother’s countenance was as always—gentle, benevolent. For a moment, Yegyeol doubted his own understanding.

“At last, you show me your face.”

Having achieved his aim, Haryang whispered with those same lips that had just poured wicked, lascivious words into his ear.

Yegyeol’s face, so tear-streaked with sorrow before, was now flushed scarlet. Looking upon his disciple, cheeks still damp yet eyes lifted toward him, filled Haryang’s gut with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Tears had made him heartbreakingly pitiable. But this—this blooming expression—was beautiful beyond compare.

‘I made him bloom with my own hands.’

He drew Yegyeol’s hand to his lips, kissing it, then leaned down once more, enclosing him between his arms. He pressed kisses upon his nose bridge, his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, his lips, his brow—again and again.

“Show me again. To me alone…”

At this shocking request, Yegyeol, who had momentarily forgotten his shame, felt his face and neck blaze anew.

He shoved at his Senior Brother’s chest, slapped at his shoulders, but Haryang’s body did not budge.

To truly push away his Guide was impossible. The victor of this contest had been decided from the start.

“…Not too often.”

It was, in truth, consent.

Haryang smiled softly, letting his fingers drift over Yegyeol’s chest. Holding his wrist with his other hand, he pressed kisses upon each joint, each knuckle, drunk on some private rapture.

No aphrodisiac could overcome the Heavenly Demon Je Haryang—save Yegyeol himself. That truth thrilled him to the bone.

Before his Guide, pride and shame were useless things.

“Haa…”

A groan spilled from Haryang’s lips. Before his disciple, his patience shattered helplessly.

Spreading his cheeks with his hands, he revealed the wet cleft. Each tremor of Yegyeol’s thighs teased glimpses of flushed, tender walls.

He pressed a finger inside.

“Hhn!”

The sensation of moist flesh clinging to his touch was exquisite. Yegyeol’s hips twitched at the intrusion.

His brown eyes, staring up at him over his covered mouth, had lost their focus.

As always, such a responsive body.

Haryang slid in a second finger, scissoring them apart.

“S-Senior Brother…”

His disciple’s voice spilled sweet cries in answer to that touch. Already his hand was drenched, sticky with a faintly viscous fluid. Haryang’s lips curved.

Though he had licked and bitten him raw, this wetness was not saliva but closer to nectar.

When had it begun? At some point, Yegyeol’s body had learned to weep with pleasure.

That he could reach climax without even being touched above—Haryang already knew. But when had it started? That, he could not say. For each time he had taken his disciple, he had been too consumed in ravishing him.

Even if Yegyeol’s inner walls were slick with his own essence, the flood of Haryang’s seed would have drowned it out.

“…You seem ready.”

Licking his lips, unable to suppress his thirst, Haryang parted his disciple’s thighs and settled between them. He rubbed his broad tip against the entrance, smearing it with the wetness already there.

“Unngh…”

The thick weight pressed against his perineum, leaking fluid, sending chills up Yegyeol’s spine.

He thought it would drive straight in, but instead the heavy shaft lingered, circling, teasing, stirring both tension and longing.

At his disciple’s gaze, half pleading, half yearning, Haryang’s lips quirked upward. Then, as the blunt head pressed in, Yegyeol cried out.

“Ah…!”

Savoring the sound, Haryang sank himself deeper.

This body he had ruined again and again still welcomed him. Yegyeol’s arms tightened around his neck, clinging, as Haryang stroked slowly down his back.

Not overly robust, nor wasted thin—but to Haryang, his disciple’s frame felt far too fragile. He feared he might feel every bone if he pressed too hard.

Though once filled with resentment and despair, the body in his arms now was sweet, fragrant, irresistible.

He wanted to treasure him without end. He wanted, too, to devour him utterly.

Two opposing desires, balanced on a knife’s edge—that was Je Haryang now.

Surely, it was madness.

“Unnhh, hhht…!”

Each shallow thrust sent Yegyeol’s hips twitching. His insides, stretched tight, responded to the smallest movement. Without even trying to clench, it felt as though his belly might burst.

“Hhhuu, hhhuu…”

Tears streamed from his eyes—not sorrow, but bodily reaction.

“You fear being filled, yet you grieve when I withdraw… How can you be so honest?”

His teasing voice was low, but the smile beneath it betrayed how much he savored this.

Still, the tension at penetration could not be helped. Even with the Black Ghost, he had known—Haryang was simply too large. If he were not a sturdy Esper, he might have been ruined long ago.

Yegyeol’s brown eyes glistened, drunk with lust.

“Put it in… please.”

At his desperate entreaty, Haryang licked and gently nipped his ear.

“Then hold on tight.”

Yegyeol clasped his hands around his Senior Brother’s neck, legs winding about his waist, clinging like a cicada to a tree.

Haryang’s lips grazed his jaw. One hand gripping his waist, the other his thigh, he thrust in to the hilt in a single stroke.

“Hhh, ahhh…!”

Yegyeol’s shoulders shuddered violently. As his body jerked to recoil, Haryang held him fast.

What if I split in two? The thought flashed absurdly through Yegyeol’s mind as he bit Haryang’s shoulder hard. The shallow imprint reddened as he rubbed his cheek over it, clutching his waist all the tighter.

Granted leave, Haryang began to move with force. Yegyeol’s body shook wildly, tossed like driftweed in a storm.

Each time the shaft drove deep, his vision flared white before snapping back. Desperately, he clung on—for each surge of pleasure made his legs weak, and some irrational fear told him that letting go would mean falling forever into a void.

It was only overstimulation warping his thoughts.

“Ahh! Hhhngh! Ahhh!”

Every thrust sought out his sweetest spot, leaving him spent.

Whenever Haryang drove in with full strength, Yegyeol was pinned, helpless, his body shoved upward as the bedding crumpled beneath them. The lewd sound of their joining rang in his ears.

“Ahh, ah…!”

There was no pause, no reprieve. His mind melted under the relentless rhythm. Haryang’s hand gripped his buttocks, moving them tenderly, yet even that gentleness sent fresh shocks through him.

When his head neared the edge of the bed, about to strike the furniture, Haryang cupped it and captured his lips. Gasping for breath, Yegyeol’s eyes filled with tears again.

“Hhh…”

As his walls fluttered tight, Haryang’s lips parted with a languid groan.

Red eyes, red nose, red lips, red down his flushed neck—he stoked not only desire but hunger.

Haryang looked down at the faint bulge that rose and fell in his disciple’s lower belly with each deep stroke.

“N-no… not there…”

Sensing his gaze, Yegyeol shook his head weakly. But Haryang laid his hand upon it and pressed.

Skewered, unable to move, Yegyeol could only accept.

“Hhh, haahh… ahhh…!”

His head tipped back as cries poured out. It felt as though Haryang’s hand and shaft met through his thin flesh.

His mind tangled like knotted thread, tears streaming. He thought he might be breaking.

His cock, already once spent from Haryang’s caresses, spurted again—first thick seed, then thin streams that dribbled down.

Only when Haryang’s hand wiped his eyes did Yegyeol realize he had been crying still.

“You feel more than usual tonight.”

His words, spoken as he withdrew slowly, were chillingly significant.

“That I never knew you loved this so… is my great failing as your Senior Brother.”

Even with regret shadowing his face, Haryang pulled out gently. From below, seed seeped, and his rim twitched.

He wiped Yegyeol’s body with the discarded robe, then pressed another tender kiss to his lips. The gentle suckle of his tongue brought Yegyeol back to himself, if only slightly.

Catching his breath at last, Yegyeol looked up at him.

The man, patient as ever, waited until he had steadied, though his gaze remained relentless, unsated.

“You torment me so, Senior Brother. What plea do you mean to bring before me?”

Half accusation, half affection, Yegyeol glared.

“Would you grant it?”

“If it is something I can do…”

Yegyeol shoved the ruined silk robe under the bed as he answered, planning to burn it to ash later with lightning once Haryang left.

“Only you can grant it.”

The beast who had just ravished him so crudely now wore again the tender face of the Senior Brother he knew.

“Tell me.”

Still marked with his traces, Yegyeol gazed up at him. Surely, he thought, it would be a plea to stay by his side. For since revealing himself as Heavenly Demon, Haryang had feared he would leave.

But his request was unlike anything Yegyeol had imagined.

“I want you to forgive yourself.”