Chapter 83

Chapter 83

The hotel room was completely dark.

Outside the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows hung a silver moon. The faint moonlight on the deep blue sea looked like powdered sugar dusted over a dessert.

On the large bed, Wen Cishu straddled Bo Tingyuan’s lap, the blanket draped over his head like a curtain, blocking his view.

Neither made a move to pull it off immediately.

They simply stayed like that, quietly aware of each other.

Wen Cishu’s long legs were bent, his calves and ankles—pale as jade—visible beneath the loose fabric of his pants.

Bo Tingyuan’s hand settled on his ankle, rubbing the slightly cool skin.

Just that single touch made the man in his arms shiver in response, the blanket trembling like roses trembling in the wind, dewdrops rolling off.

His palm loosened, leaving only fingertips to glide lightly upward, caressing the soft curve of his calf.

The loose linen fabric was pushed higher, gathering at his rounded knees before Bo Tingyuan’s hand disappeared beneath the cloth.

“Mmm…”

When Bo Tingyuan’s hand moved to his thigh, Wen Cishu arched slightly, his breathing heavier than before.

The thin blanket stretched taut over the elegant bridge of his nose, rising and falling faintly with each exhale.

Bo Tingyuan leaned in, pressing his nose against Wen Cishu’s through the fabric, nuzzling lightly.

Growing more breathless, Wen Cishu chased the warmth of his breath, his dangling hand tightening reflexively around Bo Tingyuan’s wrist, fingers whitening with the force of his grip.

Lost in desire, he thought hazily—yes, Bo Tingyuan was a siren made flesh, endlessly luring him in with his alluring presence, his hungry gaze, his mature, sensual body…

Just as his aching need demanded relief, he felt Bo Tingyuan shift, followed by a soft *click*.

His glasses!

He’d barely formed the thought before the blanket was tugged upward.

Though still fully clothed, Wen Cishu felt strangely exposed, a strange shyness stirring in him.

The blanket stopped just over his lips.

Bo Tingyuan’s gaze burned into his plush, reddened mouth, eyes dark with hunger. When his knuckle brushed against those lips, he almost gave in to the urge to act beyond reason.

Wen Cishu parted his lips slightly, softly closing around the joint of his finger, as if calming the tension beneath.

But the effect was the opposite.

Bo Tingyuan’s palm pressed firmly against his back as his fingers pushed deeper, sliding between his pearly teeth.

The unexpected touch startled them both when the soft, pink tip of Wen Cishu’s tongue accidentally grazed his skin.

A quiet, stifled sound escaped Wen Cishu’s throat, heavy with need and restraint.

Bao Tingyuan uncontrollably pushed his fingers deeper inside until the lips parted like clam shells, trapping the wet, pliant tongue with nowhere to hide.

Wen Cishu, burning with shame, wanted to cry out, but just as he was about to push him away, the knuckles withdrew, replaced by searing lips.

Unlike their previous kisses—gradual, gentle, and considerate—this one was like a sudden, scalding downpour on a summer evening, fierce and untamed, savage and commanding.

His tongue was teased relentlessly, the slick, messy sounds in the quiet room enough to shame them.

Wen Cishu’s tongue went numb, his eyes tightly shut, remembering how the last time he had kissed Bao Tingyuan first, he had been kissed back just like this.

Then, just as suddenly, the downpour ceased.

Wen Cishu felt his lips trail downward—from the corner of his mouth to his throat, his neck, then his collarbone, nuzzling and nipping.

When his clothes were undone, he turned his face slightly away, though his face stayed buried beneath the blanket the entire time.

After a long while, Bao Tingyuan lifted his face from the warm, fragrant haven of Wen Cishu’s embrace and pulled the blanket away.

Wen Cishu’s clothes were half-undone, the slipped collar revealing delicate, bare shoulders.

Bao Tingyuan’s fingers traced along his neck, gliding over skin as white and soft as silk before finally hovering lower. “Too much?”

At the brush of Bao Tingyuan’s fingertips, Wen Cishu’s skin flushed hot. “I—I wasn’t ready just now…”

He had no idea what nonsense he was even saying.

But Bao Tingyuan took it seriously and asked, “Want to take a minute?”

Wen Cishu turned scarlet, letting himself be drawn into Bao Tingyuan’s arms as his shirt and pants were carefully, tenderly removed.

By the time he was placed bare on the bed, his back against the cool silk pillows, he noticed Bao Tingyuan watching him with a dark, unreadable stare.

His long, smooth legs twitched restlessly, only to be gently pushed apart by Bao Tingyuan’s hands, his feet sliding against the sheets until they were spread wide.

Wen Cishu’s body was utterly exposed.

The grip at his thighs burned so intensely it made his scalp tingle.

Then came a long, sweet, soothing kiss that calmed him utterly.

But when Bao Tingyuan’s lips moved lower, Wen Cishu frowned, his gaze drifting before he squeezed his eyes shut and called his name in a trembling whisper, “Bao Tingyuan… wait…”

Neither of them had forgotten what that name meant.

Bao Tingyuan: “Mm. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Half a minute later, Wen Cishu murmured, “Okay…”

…

Yet Bao Tingyuan took his time, massaging his knees before sinking teeth into his thigh.

“Hah—!”

Then the other leg, the same spot.

Wen Cishu frowned, his mind dazed with the thought: *Bao Tingyuan, must you be so thorough?*

Bao Tingyuan got up to rinse his mouth in the bathroom and soon returned with a warm towel to wipe him down.

Wen Cishu curled up, letting himself be tended to without any strength, murmuring drowsily, "What about you? Do you... feel anything too?"

He didn’t get an immediate answer. Bao Tingyuan put the towel back in the bathroom, then slid back into bed and pulled him close, brushing a kiss to his temple. "Mm."

Wen Cishu looked content with the response, his lips curling into a sweet smile as he nestled closer into his embrace.

Bao Tingyuan brushed a kiss over his lips. "Cishu."

"Hmm?" Wen Cishu, hearing him call his name so rarely, perked up slightly. "What is it?"

"After you fall asleep," Bao Tingyuan’s words were hesitant, "can I touch you?"

Wen Cishu didn’t stir in his arms.

Bao Tingyuan carded a hand through his hair. "Sleep."

But the person in his arms nuzzled closer, hooking his fingers and giving them a gentle tug.

Then came a sleepy mumble: "You can."

-

Around ten at night.

Bao Tingyuan waited until the person in his arms was deeply asleep before lifting the covers and getting up. After pulling on his robe, he headed to the guest room where his youngest son was staying.

The hallway lights were dim, but a strip of light glowed from under the door.

Spotting it from afar, Bao Tingyuan hurried over and paused by the door, listening for any sounds.

There were the muffled sounds of a cartoon.

Bao Tingyuan raised his hand and knocked. "Yi Ming?"

It was Aunt Zhong who opened the door.

She seemed to have been waiting for a while and whispered, "Finally here."

Bao Yiming was curled up in bed, hugging the blanket, his eyes drooping as he peered up pitifully at his dad.

The large bed made him look even smaller.

Bao Tingyuan walked over and lifted him from the nest of blankets. "What’s wrong?"

Sitting on his dad’s lap, Bao Yiming drooped his head. "Dad... I think I’m a little scared..."

The guest room was especially big, and even with Aunt Zhong staying with him, he still missed his two dads a little—especially the sense of security from sleeping beside them.

Bao Tingyuan carded a hand through his hair. "Mm, come sleep with us."

Bao Yiming fiddled with the sleeve of his dad’s robe, muttered, "Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to Papa. So I got punished."

Bao Tingyuan bent down to pick up the two little slippers by the bed, then nodded toward his back. "Hop on."

Bao Yiming climbed onto his dad’s broad back monkey-like, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

As Bao Tingyuan reached back with his right hand, he gave his son’s bottom a light pat. "You’ll apologize to Papa."

"Mm." Bao Yiming drew his feet up as his dad stood, like a little frog clinging to a big frog’s back.

Aunt Zhong waited on the porch and let out a relieved sigh when she saw them, helping to carry a set of bedding over.

After entering the room.

Bo Tingyuan settled his younger son at the foot of the bed: "Be gentle, don’t wake your little dad. He’s tired today."

"Mm." Bo Yiming tiptoed to the outer side of his little dad, kneeling by the pillow. He gently brushed the long hair away from his face, puckered his lips, and leaned in to plant a soft kiss.

—Little Dad, I’ll never lie to you again, sniffle...