TSBIRBV Ch 223(NSFW)

Chapter 223 Interlocking (6) (NSFW)

It was not sweet, but it was a dream impossibly addictive.

When Yegyeol had steadied himself enough to stand, Haryang seized his waist and began to drive into him with increasing force. Yegyeol’s arm, braced against the wall, gave way, and his cheek was pressed flat against the cold surface.

The world Yegyeol had once known had always been filled with sound—the rush of cars over asphalt, music drifting from a neighbor’s window, the murmur of strangers speaking their countless stories. Here, there was nothing but silence. Whether it was the depth of night, or some other cause, the only sound in his ears was the breath of the man pressed against him.

“Haah…”

That low, drawn-out exhale broke apart at its edges with ecstasy. The sigh of such an ascetic man was enough to arouse not only Yegyeol but any who might have heard it.

Even as he thrust, Haryang’s mouth sought his shoulder, sinking his teeth into the same spot, then licking it clean. It was both a caress and a claim.

“Ahh—huuhh, ahh…!”

Each pounding of his insides struck in time with his heartbeat, until he felt the two indistinguishable. His breath quickened, his throat parched as though it might burn away, and only then did he remember his thirst.

“W-water…”

The stammered plea escaped, and Haryang answered at once. From the table across the room, a water jug flew to them, pulled by his will.

Yegyeol thought he would be given a drink. But instead, Haryang lifted it himself, drank, and then tilted Yegyeol’s chin up, pouring the cool water into his mouth from his own lips.

“Khh—hahh…”

Half of it slipped inside, the other half spilling down his chin. The chill of it stiffened his nipples, and the joy of relief soaked through his parched mouth. But it was not enough. His lips parted again, like a fledgling crying for its mother’s beak.

Haryang leaned down once more, wetting his lips with water before pressing them back to Yegyeol’s. The coolness of the upper lip, the heat of the lower, pierced Yegyeol more vividly than any drink.

“Mmm…”

Again, again—every time his lips parted, Haryang kissed him with water. Soon the thirst was long quenched, yet Yegyeol clung still to his tongue, sucking greedily, licking the drops that ran to his chin.

Haryang’s throat vibrated with a low laugh.

What began as mere relief deepened into an endless kiss. Casting aside the jug, Haryang resumed his steady thrusts.

“If your thirst is quenched…”

With each heavy stroke sinking deeper into him, Yegyeol’s heels lifted from the ground. He staggered, muscles taut against the wall.

“Will you now sate your poor Senior Brother’s thirst?”

“Ahh…!”

Haryang pulled him tight from behind, shaking his unsteady body. Every time Yegyeol had tried to resist by tensing his legs, Haryang had seen through it. Now he let himself fall, supported only by the man’s arms. His thighs trembled with both dread and anticipation that Haryang might drive even deeper.

Now, all he could hope for was his Senior Brother’s mercy.

“Ahhh, haah…”

The sweet sound of his whimper only spurred Haryang on. Even trapped, even weeping, Yegyeol never once begged to be released—and those lips were all the more precious for it.

When asleep, he had held Yegyeol snug around him. Awake, the same entrance clutched him obscenely. Conscious or not, Yegyeol pressed his chest against him and moved faintly, riding him in shallow jerks.

Once, Haryang had thought it ironic—that the only disciple left in all the world should also be the first he embraced. Yet he had chosen to take him not with reluctance but with resolve, believing it an opportunity to bind Yegyeol to him.

But now, it was no longer means but end. Each time he possessed him, he felt the truth: he could never let him go.

Where once Yegyeol had struggled to take the Ghost King’s size, now he swallowed even Haryang’s length with ease, his guilt at violating such a small frame fading as Yegyeol not only endured but craved him.

Though they said one could never truly know another’s heart, Haryang was certain. With flesh pressed to flesh, he felt all that Yegyeol felt—ecstasy, terror, joy, despair. Sometimes it was as if he stole the very emotion from him, glimpsing it through a thin pane of glass.

It was intoxicating.

“Senior Brother… ahhh, Senior Brother…!”

Tormented by his own restraint, Haryang pressed his lips to Yegyeol’s temple, driving into him. The body shuddered, legs lifting, taking him to the root with every thrust.

Bound in his arms, Yegyeol wept without escape. When his head fell back, mouth open in cries, his tongue flickered between his lips—a sight maddeningly erotic.

Haryang’s throat burned with thirst of a kind no water could quench. Even should his disciple’s had been sated, his own would last a lifetime.

Yet alongside it came a strange peace.

“Ahnn—ahhh!”

Yegyeol’s mind felt like dough beaten soft. That massive, unyielding presence inside him tore him in half with every plunge, agony and ecstasy entwined. Worse still, the guiding waves pouring from Haryang melted him to his marrow, feeding his strength while refusing to release him from pleasure until he had been utterly undone.

Over and over, until the only thought left was this: that there was no place for him to cling but Haryang’s arms. And Yegyeol loved him for it—loved that his Senior Brother lavished even a beast with such care.

As always, Haryang gave more than needed. His relentless devotion conquered Yegyeol’s body piece by piece, until even the pain was swallowed by joy.

Yegyeol licked his lips. The thirst that had once burned his throat was gone, replaced only by desire for Haryang. That want, at least, no coupling could ever ease.

“Kh…huhhh…”

Hands tightening around his legs, Haryang spilled into him. The flood that filled him struck against his deepest walls like crashing waves. Yegyeol braced himself against the wall and sobbed, sick with fullness despite having eaten nothing.

Yet still he clung. The memory of Haryang pressing his palm against his belly the night before haunted him, too intense to withstand again.

Catching his breath, Haryang kissed his nape, over and over. Even the simplest kiss made Yegyeol tremble. Then Haryang’s hand took him, stroking his shaft, pressing the head with practiced care. Each squeeze made his insides clench anew around the cock still within.

With every twitch, he felt it swelling again. Yegyeol shuddered, panting, unable to close his spread legs.

As his breath grew ragged, Haryang pinched the slit and began to thrust slowly once more, grinding into the places that drove him mad. His vision blurred white and cleared again in time with each stroke.

Every plunge spilled whiteness down his thighs. The mingling fluids slicked their joining, every movement drawing moans from Yegyeol’s lips.

“Huuhh…huhhh…”

Not a single night in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains had passed without him soaked below.

“Every night you cried it was too much… so I kept you stretched wide.”

A groan broke through his teeth.

“And still, you’re this tight.”

With that, he gripped Yegyeol’s shaft. A soundless cry tore from him. He was on the brink again. Resting his head against Haryang’s shoulder, his lips trembled, drool slipping free.

Haryang kissed him softly and drew him closer by the waist. It felt as though he might pull free.

“More… more… please.”

Pulling one trembling hand from the wall, Yegyeol pressed it to their joining, clutching the base of the shaft threatening to leave him.

“I—I’ll take it, I’ll take it all…”

Drunk-eyed, Haryang nuzzled his nose against Yegyeol’s, biting at his cheek.

“Yes… that’s what you must do.”

He licked his jaw, pressed his lips to his throat.

The heat at his nape burned like a brand.

“Not a drop wasted. Swallow it all, hm?”

Eyes wet, Yegyeol nodded.

Supporting him with his thigh, Haryang pressed deeper. Buried to the root, Yegyeol’s lips parted wide. At that very moment, Haryang released his grip on his shaft, and the climax that had been held at bay devoured him whole.

White blotted out his vision—then black.

Darkness.