Chapter 104 I’ll Teach You

Chapter 104: I'll Teach You

The scorching body heat and fervent kisses quickly soothed and melted the frightened fawn.

The young man clung and responded eagerly as Fu Yan lifted him straight up and placed him on the bed.

"Baby, do you want this?"

Fu Yan propped himself up on his arms, bracing them on either side of the young man's neck, lust burning in his eyes. Even if he wanted it, he still had to ask Du Yang what he thought. If he didn't want it now, he could keep holding back.

The young man's eyes glistened, his beautiful dark irises veiled with a thin film of tears. His cheeks and body were flushed a cute pink, his lips a bright crimson, and his slender arms still looped around the back of Fu Yan's neck.

"Babe," the young man's voice was sweet and trembling. "Kiss me."

His slender arms exerted a little force, pulling the man's neck down closer, and his soft lips pressed against Fu Yan's on their own.

"You asked for it, baby."

Fu Yan stopped suppressing the wild desire within him. He removed the bath towel and tightly embraced the young man in his arms.

Gentle.

Possessive.

Fierce.

Each one, over and over.

"Ba—baby." The young man's eyes reddened, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at the man. He called out to Fu Yan sweetly, as if begging for mercy or encouraging more.

Fu Yan took it as the latter. He grasped the young man's moist, slender ankle and turned to kiss it.

"Baby, say it again. It sounds so good."

"Babe." The young man gripped Fu Yan's arm and rolled his hips. His beautiful eyes were dazed and upset. "I... I feel uncomfortable."

"Where does it feel bad, baby?"

Fu Yan deliberately gave a sudden, sharp thrust, and the young man shuddered, letting out an "Ah," his toes curling.

Du Yang had no idea if there was a storm outside; all he felt was being tossed about in a tempest from afternoon until late at night.

Du Yang was utterly exhausted. He hadn't had time for dinner, and by the time it was over in the middle of the night, he didn't have the strength to eat or even keep his eyes open.

Fu Yan cleaned the bed and the young man, applied ointment with a gentle hand, and then held the young man in his arms, satisfied, and lay down.

Because Du Yang feared the dark, Fu Yan had deliberately moved the nightlight from the guest room to the master bedroom. Under the dim light, Fu Yan gazed at the young man in his arms, unable to tear his eyes away.

He gazed for a while, then planted a kiss. He liked him so much he couldn't stop.

The sleeping young man let out a few soft whimpers of protest, nestled deeper into Fu Yan's arms, and then stopped moving.

Fu Yan didn't feel tired; instead, he was full of energy. He picked up his phone from the bedside and replied to important messages.

This included a paternity test report that Lu Jin'an had sent him that evening.

Fu Yan only replied with three words: "Got it."

He deliberately ignored Lu Jin'an's complaint about Lu Jin'an's grandmother and Fu Yan's grandfather having a fight all afternoon.

Grandma Lu had once held up half of the Lu Group; after Grandpa Lu passed away, she single-handedly led the company, her spirit no less than any man's. She also often bickered with Fu Yan's grandfather, but it never affected their close friendship.

Fu Yan looked down, gently brushing aside the stray hair on the young man's forehead, revealing his long, thick eyelashes.

Such a beautiful child. That year, Little Yangyang climbed the stairs to knock on his door—why had he been so foolish not to open it?

When five-year-old Little Yangyang visited the Fu family's old mansion with his grandmother, the adults were chatting. Little Yangyang climbed the stairs all by himself, found the room on the second floor, and knocked on the door looking for the big brother.

If he had opened the door back then, he would have met his precious one so much sooner.

The young man in his arms slept peacefully, breathing evenly, free of nightmares that night. Probably because he had wept too much the night before, the bad dreams spared his little one.

That night, Du Yang slept deeply without a single dream.

It was nearly noon when Du Yang woke up—woken by hunger.

He pushed himself up with his arms, and the blanket slipped off his smooth skin, revealing red marks like plum blossoms dotting his skin.

Du Yang let out a soft hiss.

His waist ached, his legs throbbed, his arms hurt—everything ached all over.

Seeing his body covered in the marks Fu Yan had left, Du Yang's ears involuntarily reddened again.

That wicked man had kissed and licked every inch of him, top to bottom, over and over again the previous night.

The bedroom door pushed open, and Fu Yan walked in to see the half-naked young man sitting on the bed staring into space.

The moment their eyes met, Du Yang snapped back to reality and quickly pulled the blanket over himself, wincing in pain.

There wasn't a single spot on his body that Fu Yan hadn't seen or kissed. Fu Yan's gaze flickered, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes involuntarily lingering on the exposed back of his neck and spine.

They were covered in marks he had left—marks of love.

"Baby, let me help you get dressed." Fu Yan picked up the loungewear from the bedside and planted a kiss on the young man's cheek.

Du Yang's face flushed even redder. Although they had already been intimate, he was still so shy.

"You—you, turn around. I'll dress myself." The young man, too shy, refused bluntly.

"Alright, I won't peek." Fu Yan held back a smile, stood up, and turned his back to the young man.

He heard a series of rustling sounds as the young man dressed, followed by a *thud*.

Fu Yan looked down. Du Yang was kneeling on the floor, looking up at him.

Their eyes met. The young man bit his lip, blushing with shame and frustration on the verge of tears.

"Baby." Fu Yan quickly bent down and scooped the young man up. "I should have been more careful. Does it hurt from the fall?"

Du Yang buried his face in Fu Yan's shoulder and closed his eyes. He really had been fucked so hard he couldn't get out of bed.

"It doesn't hurt, just my waist, my legs, and my arms ache." Du Yang's voice was muffled. He added, "And I'm hungry."

Fu Yan cupped the young man's bottom, let out a low chuckle, and coaxed gently, "Dinner is ready. Let me help you wash up, baby."

Du Yang had no strength, so he let Fu Yan brush his teeth and wash his face. Actually, he could have insisted on doing it himself, but Fu Yan didn't want him to tire himself out.

After washing up, Fu Yan carried him downstairs. Du Yang obediently sat on Fu Yan's lap and just needed to open his mouth to be fed.

After lunch, Du Yang went straight back to sleep.

Last night was really exhausting!

He slept until dusk. His body felt much better, and was hardly sore anymore.

Du Yang got out of bed, slipped on his slippers, quickly washed up, and came out to find Fu Yan.

The door of the study at the other end of the corridor was open and brightly lit. Du Yang walked over.

Fu Yan was bent over the long table, holding a brush and silently copying scriptures. Hearing footsteps, he looked toward the door, and a smile immediately lit up his cold, calm eyes.

"Yangyang, come here," Fu Yan said, already setting down the brush and walking over. He took the young man's hand and led him to the long table.

"Are you still feeling uncomfortable?" Fu Yan's voice was gentle and doting. He cupped the young man's face, kissed him on the lips, and his gaze fell on the collarbone visible through the open collar.

The red marks there were still fresh, noticeable.

Du Yang shook his head. "Much better."

"Are you hungry?" Fu Yan asked again.

"Not hungry."

As he spoke, Du Yang curiously examined the characters Fu Yan had spread out on the long table.

Fu Yan's small regular script was very beautiful—exquisite brushwork, elegant, with both spirit and form. It takes years of practice to write so masterfully.

"Do you want to write? I'll teach you."

Seeing Du Yang's interest, Fu Yan picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, placed it in Du Yang's hand and covered his hand with his own, guiding the brush onto the rice paper.

Fu Yan stood behind him, embracing him, bending him forward. Fu Yan's large hand held his; Du Yang just held the brush, moving entirely with Fu Yan's hand.

His back was warm, Fu Yan's breath falling on his cheek. The study was thick with the scent of sandalwood.

Du Yang felt dazed, as if completely enveloped by Fu Yan, staring blankly at the characters Fu Yan had guided him to write.

"Form is emptiness, emptiness is form."

The brush was taken from his hand. Fu Yan still stood behind him, encircling him, his lips brushing behind his ear and then trailing to his cheek, now close, now distant.

Du Yang's face grew hot, even his slender neck flushed pink. He didn't dare move, letting Fu Yan's lips linger on the side of his neck.

Suddenly, Fu Yan turned him around, hoisted him onto the table by his bottom, rested his forehead against Du Yang's, and their breaths mingled.

"baby, how about we try it in the study?"

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