Reverse Murder v1c40

Maki pouted, clearly stung that his concern had been rebuffed. Jihan’s expression softened slightly.

“Those relationships were more trouble than they were worth. Don’t bring them up again.”

Above all, he didn’t want such dangerous talk bandied about inside the annex. If Seon overheard, he’d make good on his threat to sever Maki’s other leg this time.

“Understood. You must be thirsty—I’ll bring you some chilled plum tea.”

Maki’s narrow shoulders slumped as he turned away slowly. Jihan called after him:

“Maki. Should I arrange for you to leave the household?”

“…What?”

Maki’s beady eyes widened.

“Better than spending your life as a servant. You’re diligent—if I give you a plot of fertile land, you could live comfortably for the rest of your days.”

“But… this is so sudden… Are you serious? Can I really?”

Maki’s mother, the head maid, had followed the Grand Secretary to Hongju. Maki had no wife or children, no real reason to stay. With the move to the annex, the household had already been downsized—only the cook, a wet nurse, three strong laborers, and Maki remained.

“Yes. I mean it. No more waiting on masters. Live as you please.”

“…But I’m worried.”

Despite the unexpected windfall, Maki hesitated, searching Jihan’s face.

“Leaving you alone with him… He’s terrifying. Who knows when he’ll sink his claws into you again. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“…”

Jihan said nothing, instead looking up at the plum tree they’d transplanted to the annex. Its branches sagged under the weight of this year’s fruit, as lush as ever. Seeing it thrive anywhere they planted it left him oddly hollow. Was it some weed that could take root anywhere?

Jihan walked slowly toward the shade of the plum tree. He gently traced the trunk with his fingers, murmuring to himself as if in a trance.

“There’s a saying in destiny theory… that wood, over time, eventually becomes metal.”

Maki, failing to grasp the meaning, tilted his head in confusion.

“If the brutal swing of an axe is but a means to shape the use of a fragile tree… then perhaps I should accept what lies ahead without fear.”

“…”

“Then the axe’s menace would no longer terrify me.”

***

It was late at night. The quiet main room of the annex flickered with the light of several lit lanterns.

The air was thick with the faint scent of inkstone and crushed floral oil. A precious crystal inkstone, a stick of soft ink, and a half-used ink cake lay scattered haphazardly, while countless history books and literary texts were piled haphazardly around the room, forming small hills. Practice exam papers were strewn everywhere, each stamped with the bold mark of failure: “위격 (Disqualified).”

In the very center of that chaotic study space, Seon knelt naked, dripping ink onto the inkstone. He stretched out one arm diagonally, gripping the ink stick, grinding it in slow, deliberate circles. His index and middle fingers were stained black.

His eyes half-lidded, he watched the ink smooth out beneath his touch before quietly murmuring:

“This time, we’ll focus on Article 19 of the Book of Documents.”

“…”

“‘To turn the wind and raise the rice.’ Summarize the relevant historical anecdotes and quotations. After summarizing, you’ll expand it into a poetic verse.”

Jihan’s slender fingers—also blackened with dried ink—clutched a worn-out wolf-hair brush in irritation. He, too, was completely naked, kneeling with his ass pressed flush against Seon’s groin, his thighs spread wide as he lay face-down, his thick cock buried deep in his own mouth.

His small, reddened ass—marked from earlier slaps—twitched occasionally as his own erection, stiff and leaking, brushed against the floor. Jihan gritted his molars, his muscles clenching involuntarily around the cock filling him. The lanterns flickered, casting shifting shadows over Seon’s face as he gazed down at Jihan’s ass. He set aside the ink stick and gripped Jihan’s waist instead.

“…Ngh!”

Jihan groaned, his forehead furrowing as Seon suddenly shifted the cock inside him, stirring the swollen inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes. The thick, slick glans deliberately avoided the spot Jihan craved most—that sensitive nub—teasing him mercilessly.

—Not there…

The words threatened to spill out in a whimper, but Jihan bit them back. He had no idea how many sikgyeong had passed. His unspent cum had surged from his balls to the tip of his cock dozens of times, each wave more agonizing than the last.

Jihan tried to crawl forward, but a firm grip on his hips yanked him back into place.

“Hyung, it’s from that book you read last week. You haven’t already forgotten, have you?”

“Hah—! N-no, it’s not that—you—!”

Seon’s fingertips traced the deep dip of Jihan’s spine, making him arch with a sharp hik! of breath.

“Hnng…”

His abs trembled, his shoulders hunched. Seon exhaled, grinding his hips in slow circles, the slick friction of flesh and cock filling the room with wet, obscene sounds—jjik, jjik—as if churning Jihan’s insides. Sparks exploded behind Jihan’s eyelids.

“You—fucking—bastard—!”

“That mouth’s gonna wear out. Stop cursing and start summarizing.”

Seon’s voice was maddeningly calm. How many times had they repeated this? Every time Jihan tried to fuck himself on the cock, Seon would pull back just enough to deny him, and when he stilled, the glans would brush past his sweet spot without lingering, tormenting him elsewhere instead.

Leaning in, Seon used the resonance of his breath to whisper directly into Jihan’s ear:

“Recall the anecdote from the last book you read. Grasp the context before and after. Figure out why I assigned this question. Then summarize it.”

Every word vibrated through the cock buried inside him, sending jolts through his core. It was maddening. The deep murmur continued:

“Think. You can do it. If you write the correct answer, I’ll fuck you all night. Just the way you like—focusing only on that spot—until you’re drowning in cum, until your lower half melts from pleasure.”

Jihan already knew the ecstasy Seon’s cock could bring. That knowledge only made the denial worse. But the harder he forced himself to concentrate, the more his thoughts scattered.

His trembling thighs struggled to hold him up as he rocked his hips, his hole clenching and releasing in a desperate attempt to swallow more of that long, thick shaft. Pre-cum dripped from the corners of his lips, mixing with the saliva coating the cock.

Seon watched for a moment before suddenly gripping Jihan’s waist and pulling free with ruthless precision.

“Haah! No—don’t go—hnn—”

“Recall it.”

A soft, commanding prompt.

Then—like a spark in the fog—something clicked in Jihan’s mind.

He pressed his forehead against his clenched fists, gasping:

“Hng—The Book of Documents… the Shengwang chapter…”

“Yes.”

“When the Duke of Zhou… died… hnng… and the world suffered drought and famine… King Cheng… regretted it… and—”

“Correct. Heaven turned the wind and raised the rice. Well done. Now, deduce the question’s intent, structure your poetic verse, and summarize it as concisely as possible.”

Jihan braced himself on shaking arms and scribbled onto a crumpled practice sheet, each stroke labored. His usual elegant calligraphy was a mess, but for the first time since they’d started these mock exams, he’d produced a coherent answer.

Before he could even finish, Seon wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Perfect, Hyung.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped Jihan onto his back.

“With how brilliant you are, the next exam will be no trouble. Now… time for your reward.”

Pinning Jihan’s knees to his chest, Seon slammed his thick cock deep into the unresisting, quivering hole.

“A—HAHK!”

Jihan’s head snapped back, the tendons in his neck straining as his throat worked soundlessly. Seon pulled out until only the tip remained, then—

THWACK!

—Pounded in with a single, brutal thrust.

“HAAAK—!”

Again. Seon dragged his cock out almost completely, the swollen inner walls clinging desperately, only for him to yank free entirely. Before Jihan could even process the emptiness, the glans rammed back into his gaping, reddened hole like a spear.

“HAAAK! HYEOK!”

Jihan’s lower abdomen convulsed violently. Seon pressed a palm against it, applying just enough weight to push the cock deeper. The inner walls clenched around the intrusion, and Seon groaned, lowering his face close to Jihan’s.

“Hyung… does it feel good?”

“Hng—y-yes… it feels good—”

“I’ve been holding back too. Will you… give me a reward as well?”

Seon’s lips brushed Jihan’s temple. Turning his head, Jihan sought out Seon’s mouth in a clumsy, desperate kiss. Seon met him eagerly, his tongue plunging in as his cock breached past the hole, stretching open the velvety depths all the way to the sigmoid colon. Jihan’s eyes rolled back with a choked kkeuk—his body welcoming the invasion.

A low whisper tickled his ear:

“Did you know…? You’ve never once called me by my name.”

“…Hng… hah…”

“So…”

Seon gripped his chin, forcing their gazes to lock as he hoisted Jihan’s hips higher.

“Say it. Say you like me, Seon.”

Something inside Jihan’s mind snapped. His voice broke as he cried out:

“I—I like you, Seon-ah… I like you.”

Seon’s pupils burned with feverish intensity. He seized Jihan’s hips and—

“A—ah—NO—HAAAK—!”

—slammed into him with relentless, punishing strokes, each thrust shaking Jihan’s entire body like grain in a mortar. The obscene slapping of flesh, the squelch of fluids from their joined bodies, the creaking of the folding screen, their mixed gasps and moans, and Seon’s raw, breathless confessions—all of it filled the night, drowning out everything else.

The confucian dignity he’d once held sacred, the three bonds and five relationships he’d memorized—none of it mattered.

All that existed was the sound of their bodies colliding, the wet friction of skin on the wooden floor, the clatter of the screen, their entwined panting, and Seon’s ardent whispers—the heat of this night that Seon had forged.

It was a night without end.

***

<Reverse Murder, Fin.>