Reverse Murder v1c26

Jihan knelt on all fours, his face buried in the hem of his clothes as he panted. “Hngh… Unh, uhnn…”

“Hah… Ffuu…”

His spent seed and fluids had long since soaked through the mattress beneath him. With each thrust, his head lolled helplessly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead. Unlike Jihan, who was stripped bare down to his socks, Seon remained fully dressed in his jade-green robes, only the front of his trousers undone.

Seon exhaled, gripping the soft, dough-like flesh of Jihan’s hips and spreading them apart. The tight, clenching heat of his inner walls—how they pulsed around his cock, the way the rim resisted before yielding—sent shivers through all five senses.

“Hnngh… Hah… S-stop, that—don’t—”

“This?”

A sharp smack landed on his ass, making Jihan arch his back and lift his hips higher. Every time Seon drove in, the flesh of his buttocks rippled, milking him greedily. Seon pressed a hand between Jihan’s shoulder blades, pinning him down as he whispered into his ear, voice rough with amusement.

“You kept squeezing me. Begging for more.”

“N-no… Ah, I wasn’t—”

“Ah, so it wasn’t you squeezing, then.”

Seon rocked his hips in slow circles, stirring the sensitive flesh inside as he chuckled darkly.

“Your hole was.”

Seon often treated Jihan’s lower half like a separate, willful entity—one that refused to let go even when his mouth protested. Jihan bit back a curse, struggling to stifle his moans as pleasure radiated from where they were joined, pooling deep in his groin. By the time the final, unknown-numbered release wrung him dry, Seon buried himself to the hilt one last time.

The inner walls clenched once, then melted around the flood of warm seed. Cum spilled between their joined flesh, dripping down his thighs. Seon gave his ass a possessive squeeze, grinding once before pulling out with a wet schlick. A fresh gush of cum followed, leaking onto the sheets. He studied the flushed, breathing hole with fascination before murmuring,

“Tighten for me.”

Jihan obeyed, and the last dregs of seed trickled out.

Exhausted, he folded his trembling arms and collapsed onto the unsoiled edge of the mattress, cheeks still flushed. His dazed, half-lidded gaze traced the ceiling aimlessly. Seon dampened a silk cloth in water and cleaned them both—the sticky mess between Jihan’s legs, then his own spent cock. Then he fetched Jihan’s inner robe.

“Lift your arms.”

Jihan complied, raising his arms and lifting his hips so the garment could slide on smoothly.

“Uh… the South Gate market…”

He fidgeted, choosing his words carefully. When he licked his dry lips, Seon caught his chin and sucked the lower one into his mouth, slow and thorough.

“Yes?”

“Today… I heard there’s a big market at the South Gate.”

“And?”

The flat tone as Seon retied the sash made Jihan’s mood sour. He scowled slightly.

“I’m stifled. Thought I’d take Maki out for some air.”

“Why?”

Why? Jihan’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Because I’m suffocating. What do you mean, why?”

“Then let’s take a walk in the rear garden of the annex instead.”

“No.”

“You just said you were suffocating.”

…

This was more suffocating. Seon’s eyes turned cold whenever Jihan so much as mentioned going beyond the estate gates alone. When had he started reacting like this?

Jihan stayed silent, fingers idly toying with the damp edge of the quilt. After a long pause, Seon sighed, as if granting a great favor.

“Day after tomorrow, then.”

His tone was almost magnanimous.

“I have to leave the estate this afternoon. Won’t be back until late tomorrow—probably evening. So the day after, pack a bag and we’ll go out together. Will that do?”

Jihan nodded vaguely, too tired to argue.

Once dressed in a fresh, sun-warmed inner robe, Seon hoisted Jihan up by the backs of his knees and carried him behind the embroidered screen. The warmest spot by the gudeul floor heating was laid with a plum-blossom folding screen and bedding, the large rear window letting in ample light. Seon tucked him into the heated quilts.

“I’ll nap before I leave.”

“Mhm.”

Seon lay down beside him, immediately pulling Jihan into his arms—one hand cradling his nape, the other wrapped around his waist, their bodies flush. He kissed him deeply, tongue sliding in to tangle with Jihan’s. When they parted, Seon pressed a few light, sealing pecks to his lips before kissing his forehead and falling asleep without loosening his hold.

***

Later, once Seon’s breathing had evened into deep sleep, Jihan carefully extricated himself and slipped out in just his inner robe.

The biting chill of early spring had given way to the first whispers of warmth. Cold and sun mingled in the air, and the courtyard’s plum blossoms were so thick their scent hit him the moment he opened the door. Leaning against a pillar, Jihan lit his long pipe as usual.

Exhaling smoke in lazy rings, he noticed a figure perched on a rock near the plum tree—a young male servant, one of Seon’s recent hires. The boy spent all day lurking around the annex, watching Jihan’s every move. True to form, he was silent and quick, though his broad frame belied his name: Little One.

’That bastard actually dozed off.’

Jihan smirked. The servant was curled up like a cat in the sunlight, fast asleep—likely from stealing naps between his overnight “guard duty.” Not surprising.

Barefoot, socks barely on, Jihan stepped down onto the stone path and approached. The servant didn’t stir until Jihan knelt in front of him and blew a slow stream of smoke into his face. His nose twitched; then his eyelids fluttered open.

Startled, he scrambled back, nearly toppling off the rock. Jihan barked a rare laugh—Hah!—at the sight.

“Oh! Y-Young Master! You scared me half to death!”

The servant’s face burned red as he stammered, scrambling to his knees. Jihan tilted his head, smirk fading as he blinked a few times.

“You reek of alcohol.”

“N-no, sir! I—I had some rice wine lees instead of a meal! The head maid in the main house is brewing a batch for the upcoming… feast.”

A feast. Right. Seon’s wedding was in seven days.

Jihan’s expression went blank. He pushed off his knees to stand.

“You think I’d cane a grown man for having a drink? Stop panicking and fetch a drinking tray. We’re staying here on the veranda—I won’t go far.”

The servant’s eyes darted to the closed paper doors of the annex.

“B-but Young Master Kim is—”

“Asleep. He won’t wake for another sikgyeong at least. Bring the drinks here. I’ll keep you company.”

Jihan had started drinking again lately. He’d guzzle until he was blind drunk, only to face Grand Secretary Choi’s thunderous roars come evening. To avoid the confrontation, he’d stopped visiting the main house entirely.

Alcohol was strange. The more he drank, the thirstier he got. It burned going down but left him feverish. Things he’d hated became tolerable; things he’d loved turned bitter. Everything blurred.

An hour passed with the modest spread the servant brought. The boy kept stealing glances, hands shaking as he poured, spilling more than he served.

“Forgive me, Young Master!”

When wine sloshed onto Jihan’s robe, the servant dropped to his knees in horror. Jihan leaned back slightly, bracing himself on his hands. The servant hastily wiped at his chest with the sleeve of Jihan’s robe.

“Mmn…”

A strange sound escaped Jihan as he arched his back slightly. The servant froze—the swollen, over-sensitive nipple grazing his palm sent a jolt through them both.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A low voice cut through the air.

Jihan twisted his neck to look over his shoulder. Seon stood behind him like a sentinel, eyes dark.

“Had a daytime drink. So what?”

His words were slightly slurred, the drunkenness obvious.

Seon’s mouth opened, then closed. A heavy sigh escaped him.

“It’s still cold out.”

He draped his outer robe over Jihan’s shoulders, his arm naturally slipping around him. The servant remained kneeling, fists pressed together in a trembling bow, not daring to lift his head. His ears were bright red.

***

Jihan let Seon guide him back inside without resistance, docile as a lamb. The sight dulled the edge of Seon’s anger. When they reached the bed, Jihan wordlessly undid his own sash and flopped onto the quilts, half-lidded and pliant.

“…Too warm from the alcohol?”

“Mhm… Boiling.”

Seon watched as Jihan’s lashes fluttered shut, his voice already slurring. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. He knelt between Jihan’s spread thighs, but Jihan only gazed up at him dazedly.

“Should I undress you, then?”

Author: Hyacinthus B

Hyacinthus