Pei Tingsong woke up, surprised to find he’d shed a few tears, feeling rather embarrassed. As they slept, their positions shifted—from facing each other in an embrace to him wrapping his arms around Fang Juexia from behind, his outstretched arms cradled beneath his neck.
They clung together like two inseparable petals within a bud, pressed tightly against each other.
Fang Juexia slept deeply. Pei Tingsong gently withdrew his arm without waking him. Stepping off the bed, he noticed a damp patch on his pillow. He wiped it with his hand, then flipped the pillow over to hide it, pretending nothing had happened.
He was starving. He hadn’t been able to eat a thing on the plane, and this apartment felt as empty as his stomach. So he changed clothes, put on a hat and mask, and went downstairs alone. He’d slept for two or three hours, from dusk into night. The supermarkets were closed, so he could only grab something from the convenience store.
Throughout his life, Pei Tingsong had scarcely known the act of caring for others—it was always others who cared for him. Some did so out of love, like his grandfather; others out of duty.
Yet the moment he stepped into the convenience store, his mind was filled with thoughts of Fang Juexia. Walking past the snack aisle, he wondered: What did Fang Juexia like to eat? She seemed to love candy. So he bought many kinds, especially those popular candies with little “Hot” stickers—he loaded them into his basket.
Even the Wangzi milk he used to find cloying now seemed like the top choice.
With no fresh produce in the convenience store, Pei Tingsong settled for salad and oden. At checkout, the clerk said, “You should try our summer limited edition—the coffee slushie. It’s delicious.”
“Might keep me up tonight,” Pei Tingsong remarked offhandedly.
“Ah… true,” the clerk chuckled awkwardly, resuming the transaction. But Pei Tingsong suddenly added, “Make that two cups, please. Could you pack them for me?”
He’d wake up at some unknown hour, certain he wouldn’t sleep.
Carrying a large bag of snacks out of the convenience store, he noticed a flower shop next door. He’d never realized it was there, even after living here so long.
The shop owner was inside arranging bouquets, her careful and earnest demeanor reminding him of Fang Juexia. He’d spend hours every day crouched on his small balcony, sometimes lingering there all afternoon. Despite being so fastidious about cleanliness, he’d often get his hands muddy tending to his little flowers, washing them for over ten minutes afterward.
Seeing a tall boy standing at the entrance for ages, the shopkeeper couldn’t help asking, “Would you like to buy some flowers?”
Pei Tingsong hadn’t intended to buy anything at first, but when he noticed the bouquet in her hands—with what seemed to be a bluebell at its center—he nodded.
“What would you like? Need a recommendation?” The shopkeeper, a soft-spoken middle-aged woman, continued arranging flowers as she asked, “Is it for someone special?”
She didn’t seem like someone who would recognize him, or perhaps Pei Tingsong was simply too well-covered.
“Mhm.” Pei Tingsong stepped inside, his gaze fixed on that bouquet.
“Looks like it’s for a girlfriend. How about roses? Roses and pink dahlias are beautiful this season. Oh, and tuberoses too.”
Pei Tingsong shook his head and pointed. “I’ll take these—white lisianthus. A large bouquet.”
“You like these, huh?” The shopkeeper cheerfully pulled out fresh lisianthus, nearly spilling them before Pei Tingsong finally said that was enough.
“These are wonderful flowers—beautiful and resilient. Just stick them in water and they’ll bloom for over ten days. Not delicate at all.”
Indeed, beautiful yet undemanding—just like Fang Juexia.
“I’ll tie a bow for you. Your girlfriend will love it.”
After paying, Pei Tingsong stopped the shopkeeper. “No need. Just like this. My boyfriend will tie it when we get home.”
With that, he walked off carrying a huge bouquet of lisianthus that could have buried him, leaving the bewildered shopkeeper pondering in the store—boyfriend or girlfriend?
An elderly woman sat selling vegetables by the roadside. Her selection was sparse—just a few tomatoes, loofahs, and some lettuce. Pei Tingsong had walked past her, but after a few steps, he turned back. He bought all her vegetables and urged her to hurry home.
By the time he reached the elevator, Pei Ting was exhausted. He dumped everything onto the elevator floor, except for the bouquet, which he clutched tightly.
Back home, he set everything down, slipped into his slippers, and headed straight for the bedroom. Sure enough, Fang Juexia was still asleep. But at the sound of movement, he seemed to stir, lifting his head with half-closed eyes, drowsy and hazy like a young chick nestled in clouds.
In that moment, he almost forgot they were teammates in the same boy band, forgot the dazzling stages and flashbulbs. They were just an ordinary couple in the city, living plainly, loving plainly, their daily lives steeped in the warmth of everyday life.
“Awake?” Pei Tingsong walked over, leaned down close to him, and kissed his left cheek, then his right. Fang Juexia grunted, lazily stretching an arm that traced a small arc in the air before resting on Pei Tingsong’s shoulder. Pei Tingsong carried the scent of rainwater, mingling with the sage fragrance on his clothes—it felt very summery.
“You went out,” he rubbed his eyes. “Where did you go?”
“Just went downstairs to buy a few things.” Pei Tingsong loved seeing him freshly awakened, his skin soft from being tucked under the covers for a while, his cheeks still flushed.
Fang Juexia wasn’t one to linger in bed. He sat up as he spoke. Stepping out, he immediately noticed the flowers on the table and the pile of things Pei Tingsong had bought. He knew Pei Tingsong was a pampered young master, yet he couldn’t help teasing him. “Why buy so many flowers? You don’t even have enough vases to hold them all.”
“Of course there’s room,” Pei Tingsong retorted, pulling open a liquor cabinet in the kitchen. Inside were rows of pristine, elegant glass cups. He began taking them out one by one, almost defiantly. “These can all hold flowers. I’ve got plenty of cups for them.”
Fang Juexia laughed at his childishness, but Pei Tingsong kept going, “And there’s the sink too.”
“And the swimming pool, right?” Fang Juexia recalled the story Pei Tingsong had told him before bed about the fish-killing incident at the pool.
“Anyway, I can afford to keep all these flowers. They’re all mine.”
“Fine.” Fang Juexia drew out the last syllable, his voice unusually gentle. He noticed some of the vegetables Pei Tingsong had bought back weren’t very fresh—some were already wilted. He didn’t understand why Pei Tingsong had bought them, but he didn’t scold him. Instead, he washed them all. “Let’s make some vegetable soup.”
“Sounds good.” Pei Tingsong began arranging his flowers, separating them stem by stem. With a few shakes, the buds trembled along the entire branch—fresh and vibrant, lacking fragrance yet possessing a pure beauty.
Fang Juexia, who was already skilled in cooking, worked swiftly. He sliced the tomatoes and loofah into thin pieces, tossed them into the pot, added a spoonful of salt, and finally added the washed lettuce. It was a pity there were no eggs; otherwise, they would have made it even more fragrant.
Hot soup, ice shavings, oden, and salad—they ate it all in a strange and casual way, yet both of them found it incredibly delicious. Fang Juexia saved the slushie for last. He sucked on the half-melted ice, his teeth chattering from the cold.
“This is so good,” he smiled, his lips frozen red, more beautiful than the roses in the flower shop.
After the meal, Pei Tingsong volunteered to wash the dishes. Fumbling around, he nearly broke one, but managed to catch it just in time. Fang Juexia sat at the large dining table trimming delphiniums, using nearly every available cup.
He placed the flowers everywhere possible—the dining table, under the sofa corner, on the entryway cabinet, in the study, on the bedroom nightstand, even in the bathroom. The entire house was filled with delphiniums, breathing life into the empty space.
Pei Tingsong confessed he’d lied about being sick, hoping he’d stay home with him for two days. Fang Juexia agreed, then found the idea amusing. “We can’t go anywhere—too many eyes outside. The house is safest, like a couple hiding after eloping.”
Pei Tingsong loved that comparison.
They’d planned to watch Lu Yuan’s variety show after dinner, but there was no TV in the house. Pei Tingsong dug out a projector from the study. “How about watching a movie?”
Fang Juexia readily agreed, though he doubted he’d be able to see clearly. Crouching low, he fished a raspberry-flavored lollipop from his bag, tore off the wrapper, popped it into his mouth, and sat cross-legged on the sofa, watching Pei Tingsong fiddle with the projector that clearly hadn’t seen much use.
Pei Tingsong finally got it set up, projecting an image onto the vast, empty white wall. “Can you see this?”
The projection was surprisingly clear and bright. Fang Juexia nodded with the candy still in his mouth. “Yeah. What movie is this?”
“Kill Your Darling.” Every time Pei Tingsong spoke English, the resonance in his voice was particularly pleasing. That chest-filled resonance always sent tingles down Fang Juexia’s spine.
The title sounded like an arthouse flick, yet also hinted at some murder-themed thriller. Fang Juexia beckoned to Pei Tingsong, then patted the sofa twice, signaling him to hurry over.
“Right away. I’ll grab something to drink.”
He used the last two glasses in the apartment, pulled a bottle of Baileys from the liquor cabinet, and poured equal parts into the glasses. Taking a sip, he found it sweet upon sweet—Fang Juexia would definitely like this.
For himself, though, he poured half rum and half cola. Pei Tingsong wasn’t much of a drinker, but he occasionally had a little. When he was half-drunk, writing would spark more wildly imaginative fantasies in his mind.
Back on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, Fang Juexia grew restless during the film. It was about literature, poetry, and the Beat Generation—things he didn’t understand. Every time the handsome lead recited a poem, he’d glance sideways at Pei Tingsong.
“That’s Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer,” Pei Tingsong would say before kissing him. “He was part of the Beat Generation too—a prophet of sexual liberation. I still keep his ‘Trilogy of the Sensual’ in my study—erotic novels.”
“Sexual liberation…” Fang Juexia murmured the words softly. With candy in his mouth, the phrase came out with a sticky, syrupy quality.
His upbringing and environment were worlds apart from Pei Tingsong’s, so he could never casually utter words about sex and eroticism like his brother. His voice faltered, lacking conviction. “No wonder his poetry mentions cock…”
Pei Tingsong chuckled upon hearing this, teasing him with his own words from their last hotel encounter. “Bro, what’s ‘cock’ in Chinese?”
Fang Juexia’s face flushed instantly. Having been leaning half his weight against Pei Tingsong, he suddenly sat up straight.
“I don’t know,” he lied.
Pei Tingsong chuckled but didn’t tease him further. They were drawn back into the story. Fang Juexia watched silently, occasionally murmuring a flat observation as if stating a fact: “Alan really loves Lucien.”
“Why do you say that?” Pei Tingsong sipped his rum and Coke, then handed Fang Juexia the drink he’d mixed for him.
Fang Juexia took a large gulp. At first, he didn’t even taste the alcohol, thinking it was just chocolate milk. “Look at how he looks at him. No matter what Lucian says or does, he just stares at him like that.”
That way. An interesting description.
“Then shouldn’t you have noticed I like you long ago?” Pei Tingsong gazed into his eyes, his expression like a turbulent lake. “I look at you the same way.”
A third of the candy in his mouth had melted.
The raspberry essence and chocolate intoxicated Fang Juexia.
“I didn’t notice,” Fang Juexia answered honestly.
In the projection, Lucien collapsed onto Allen’s lap, sucking on the fingers he’d extended to stroke his cheek. On the sofa, Pei Tingsong reached out, his fingers catching the slender white candy stick protruding from Fang Juexia’s lips. He pinched it, twisting it.
A sweet raspberry planet slowly rotated within a wet, soft universe.
The born-of-it-all ambiguous nebula flowed down his throat, igniting a fire within his organs.
“Why?”
Because he gazed at Pei Tingsong the same way. How could he have noticed? His heart and eyes were filled only with Pei Tingsong. Fang Juexia answered within himself, then crushed the shrinking candy ball between his teeth.
Love blinds, for they see only their own fervent devotion to their beloved.
The planet exploded, filling his mouth with shards. His tongue needed rescue, so Pei Tingsong came. He wrapped his arms around his waist and gave him a complex kiss in the shifting light.
He recalled a line from not long ago. Alan had said it was complicated.
Lucian had said, [Great, I love complicated.]
Fang Juexia disliked it. He preferred simple things that could be resolved logically. The only complexity he cherished was Pei Tingsong himself, and everything connected to him.
Simplicity couldn’t contain him. Pei Tingsong’s allure lay in his complexity.
Rum, sweet saliva, cola bubbles, the wrinkled inner lining of the mouth, raspberries and Baileys, the tiny taste buds on the tip of the tongue, milk, smooth teeth. Fragments of candy were pushed back and forth between them, gradually losing their sharp edges, melting into a rounded form, sticking to lips and tongues, and the increasingly deep breaths.
The poetic dialogue in the film serves as the perfect background sound.
[Beware, you are not in Wonderland]
I’ve heard that peculiar madness has been growing in your soul for a long time.
But you are fortunate, for you possess arrogance, which shields you from pain.
Only by separating yourselves can you discover love hidden away.
Giving, sharing, losing—
At least it won’t die before it blooms.
Fang Juexia was in paradise; he couldn’t hear a word. Unconsciously, he collapsed onto the sofa like a white candle burned down to its wick. One slender white leg stretched out, knocking over the glass of water on the floor and spilling the hydrangeas inside. Water flowed across the floor.
His head began to spin. Half a glass of Baileys had taken effect, warming his entire body, yet he wasn’t drunk. He was lucid. Between kisses, Pei Tingsong peeled off his black coat as easily as he’d just torn open a candy wrapper. But their mouths were already filled with sugar—so much they couldn’t hold it all.
Pei Tingsong sucked on Fang Juexia’s lips, his delicate lip pearls. His tongue traced every inch of the inner mouth, mischievously probing the deepest recesses. Fang Juexia began to lose the ability to swallow, his mouth agape in surrender to this assault.
The kiss stretched on, so long that the candy melted away, and Fang Juexia felt himself dissolving too.
Melted sugar mingled with saliva, trickling from the corners of his mouth. The white light from the movie illuminated it, making it glisten brighter than the Milky Way. Pei Tingsong’s hands grew hot, losing all steadiness. Every spot they touched was stained with his warmth. This rescue was temporarily halted. He pulled back, creating some distance as he gazed at Fang Juexia.
That pure, white beauty under the night sky—even describing it as charming felt like a profanation.
“Aren’t you going to watch?” Fang Juexia asked, referring to the movie. He lay on the sofa, his gaze soft. “It’s only halfway through.”
Pei Tingsong leaned down, licking the sugar from Fang Juexia’s lips upward, like an animal.
“The second half isn’t worth watching.”
Poetry never lies.
Indeed, he had become captivated by the peculiar madness within Pei Tingsong’s soul.
“Alright, then we won’t watch it.”
Fang Juexia was swept up horizontally by Pei Tingsong, carried from the living room back to the bedroom, and placed on the bed as gently as returning jewels to velvet. His snow-white torso looked stunning against the dark quilt. Pei Tingsong felt a rush of heat just looking at him, shedding his own shirt with one hand before kissing him.
Pei Tingsong’s kisses were usually tender—slow licks and gentle licks. When his tongue slipped inside, it wasn’t forceful, just deftly hooking around his own before stealing away the saliva Fang Juexia depended on to survive.
Fang Juexia suddenly felt a flicker of fear. Between kisses, he called out Pei Tingsong’s name, “We… we’re going to…”
“Do what?” Pei Ting finished his sentence for him. “I don’t know. What do you think?” He didn’t know himself, so how could Fang Juexia possibly know?
Yet another voice echoed in his mind, whispering: You know what you want. You clearly want it. Stop pretending.
He lowered his head and took Fang Juexia’s already slightly erect nipple into his mouth, his burning lips sucking on it like a starving hummingbird drinking nectar from a flower.
“Don’t suck,” Fang Juexia grabbed the hair at the back of Pei Tingsong’s head.
“You know you like it.” Pei Tingsong remained that straightforward boy, knowing exactly how to please Fang Juexia. “You love it when I lick you, swirling my tongue around.” He did as he said, his wet tongue swirling deftly until
Fang Juexia curled into a ball, his two pearls red and swollen, trembling like ornaments dangling from white curtains.
He continued devouring, from the nectaries to the smooth, flat petals, licking and kissing his abdomen, sucking gently, leaving tiny red marks on his snow-white skin.
Fang Juexia covered it with his hand. “Don’t leave marks.”
“It’s summer, Brother.” Pei Tingsong licked his finger, teaching him to lie. “You can tell others it’s a bug bite. I don’t mind.”
He left one insect bite after another on his body, red and swollen, itching at his heart. Fang Juexia wanted to kiss him to ease the itch, but Pei Tingsong refused, biting the edge of Fang Juexia’s pajama bottoms instead.
Fang Juexia pulled back, only to be dragged forward again by Pei Tingsong’s grip on his legs. Finally, Pei Tingsong lowered his head to kiss Fang Juexia, using this method to soothe him. Yet his hands had already pulled down Fang Juexia’s pajama bottoms and the fresh pair of Pei Tingsong’s underwear he’d changed into. A damp patch was already visible, and Fang Juexia could feel it. He dared not speak.
This was why he avoided him.
“Do you want it?” Pei Tingsong gently bit his lip. “Can you handle it?”
Kisses were Fang Juexia’s hallucinogen. Once kissed, his fear vanished. He mumbled, “Do you want it?”
The words were too sweet. Fang Juexia’s eyes, always mistaken for coldness, glistened wetly, brighter than a saliva-coated candy. Pei Tingsong ended the kiss, licking his lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long. From the very first day I liked you, I wanted you. Every single kiss with you, I thought about it.”
Fang Juexia’s heart pounded wildly. His lowered hand clenched the bedsheet tightly as he issued a feeble threat, “Shut up. You… you’re dreaming.”
Pei Tingsong, of course, didn’t shut up. He only intensified his teasing, smiling as he said, “Brother, I’ve taken you hundreds of times in my dreams.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t bear to listen anymore. Closing his eyes, he snapped, “Pei Tingsong, you…”
“Then save me, hm?” Pei Tingsong pressed against him like a collapsing mountain range, kissing him with a pleading intensity. “Take my first time.” “ After that, Pei Tingsong recited the movie’s original line to him, [I love first times. I wish my whole life could be made up of first times.]”
Fang Juexia felt oxygen-deprived, his cheeks burning. “…That’s clearly not what they meant.”
“Who knows? Anyway, that’s what I mean.” “ Pei Tingsong nipped his lower lip, tugging before releasing it. ”Want to take it? My first time.”
Fang Juexia was clearly the passive one, yet Pei Tingsong tossed the hot potato of initiative to him, speaking with such solemnity, such preciousness.
“Say it. Say it and I’ll kiss you. Kiss you many times.” He traced kisses along Fang Juexia’s ear, the side of his neck, fingers teasing his nipple. Fang Juexia always melted when kissed there.
So in the end, he gave in. He simply couldn’t refuse any of Pei Tingsong’s advances.
“I want it. I want it,” he murmured softly.
Fang Juexia was serious, and so was Pei Tingsong. He retrieved an unopened tube of lubricant and condoms from the nightstand, hastily tearing them open.
“When did you buy these?” Fang Juexia felt dizzy and weak from his caresses, leaning his upper body against the pillow. “What are these?”
“Bought them ages ago, just waiting for you. Teacher Fang, didn’t you prepare lessons? How come you don’t know anything?” Pei Tingsong leaned down to kiss him, his hands never stopping as he squeezed a dollop of lube into his palm.
“Where do I put this? Teach me.”
Fang Juexia’s neck flushed crimson, stiff as a young sapling, his throat tightening. “Put it…”
Pei Tingsong lowered his head again, taking Fang’s nipple into his mouth. “Tell me. So I know what to do next.”
His answer came through gritted teeth, painfully strained. “Below…”
“Below.” Pei Tingsong repeated his answer, gripping Fang Juexia’s beautiful shaft with his lubricated hand. “Here?” He stroked it up and down several times. Fang Juexia immediately bit his lip, barely suppressing a moan.
Pei Tingsong licked him, coaxing his teeth apart. His hand never stopped moving, massaging like a gentle massage. His warm palm enveloped Fang Juexia’s sensitive tip, letting Fang tremble beneath him. “Is it here?”
Fang Juexia was consumed by desire. He wanted to shake his head, yet nodded instead. Breathing heavily, he said no.
“Then what’s below?” Pei Tingsong feigned innocence as his slick fingers slid down the shaft, kneading Fang Juexia’s sac twice—nearly making him come instantly. Finally, they traced along his perineum to that hidden opening.
“Found it.” Pei Tingsong kissed Fang Juexia’s neck, his finger pressing against the wrinkled soft flesh of his opening, dancing like feet on the edge of a double trap—sinking in occasionally, then darting out swiftly. “Is this the spot, Brother? Should I push it in?”
Fang Juexia was nearly driven mad by the torment. He bit his lip to stifle a moan, but Pei Tingsong’s other hand began a relentless stroke. His erect shaft trembled like a fragile pistil in that hand—the switch to his desire.
“Ah, slow down, Tingsong…”
“Don’t just moan.” Pei Tingsong lifted his head to kiss him. “Teach me.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t take it anymore. The words “sexual liberation” echoed in his mind. Yes, he needed liberation. He was a caged bird—no, he was a flower. Let Pei Tingsong trample him, crush him, squeeze out his nectar. He didn’t want to fly away.
He wanted to die in Pei Tingsong’s hands.
“Push it in. Stretch… stretch it.”
The word sounded strangely sensual coming from Fang Juexia’s lips. Pei Tingsong obeyed, constantly asking Fang Juexia how to stretch it, demanding he describe it word by word. His finger, coated in sticky fluid, slid inside, exploring the passage to the edge of the world. Even Fang Juexia’s moans sounded so good, making Pei Tingsong’s whole body burn with feverish desire.
“It feels so strange… Ah, Pei Tingsong, wait…” One hand stroking himself, the other stretching his rear, Fang Juexia’s senses became unbearably complex. The foreign sensation in his back passage mingled with the pleasure of impending release, overwhelming him.
“Does it hurt?” Pei Tingsong kissed his lips, then slid another finger inside, pushing it in steadily. “I heard the spot where two joints meet is the prostate. Pressing it feels incredibly good—pleasure so intense it’ll make you go crazy.”
Fang Juexia was filled to capacity. He shook his head, saying he didn’t want that kind of pleasure. But his words were useless. Pei Tingsong had already begun his own exploration. “You like lying in bed.”
Suddenly, the finger found a certain spot. Fang Juexia might lie, but his body couldn’t. His sensitivity betrayed every ounce of desire. A sharp thrust from the fingertip made him arch like a fish, his moans distinctly human.
“Found it. I’m such a clever student.” Pei Tingsong used both hands, even leaning his entire body over Fang Juexia’s lower abdomen. He extended his tongue to lick Fang Juexia’s hipbone, stroking while hooking his finger to scrape that sensitive spot fiercely. Both hands were enough to send his lover over the edge.
Fang Juexia’s shoulders shook like a sieve, his beautifully defined six-pack muscles taut. Within minutes, he couldn’t hold back, crying out as he came all over Pei Tingsong’s face.
Panting heavily, Pei Tingsong leaned in to show him his “masterpiece.” “You’re so bad, you came all over my face.”
Fang Juexia’s eyes reddened, feeling as if he’d committed a grave sin. He wanted to apologize, but Pei Tingsong wouldn’t let him speak. Leaning closer, he demanded, “Lick it clean.”
His inhibitions and taboos about sex were being shattered bit by bit by Pei Tingsong. Fang Juexia extended his tongue, licking away the semen he’d applied, then licking his lover’s face.
“Such a good boy.” Pei Tingsong lowered his head to reward him with a kiss. “My big brother is the best.” Riding the lingering waves of his climax, he slid another finger inside. “You know, that earlier didn’t even count as stretching.”
Fang Juexia gasped, his voice thick with heat. “What’s that called…”
“That’s called fingering,” Pei Tingsong introduced a new term. “I made you come with my fingers, right?”
He couldn’t say yes, only blinking once as he felt Pei Tingsong’s fresh wave of exploration. “Three fingers are too many, Tingsong…” He grabbed his arm like a plea for mercy, but Pei Tingsong was blunt. “It has to be this way. Otherwise, you won’t be able to take me.”
With that, he began thrusting again. Fang Juexia felt like a perfectly steamed glutinous rice cake, yielding to every poke and knead. When he withdrew, sticky threads clung to him, wrapping around him as if to keep him from leaving. Only when Pei Tingsong declared he was ready, that he was going in, did Fang Juexia’s heart begin to pound violently, faster than it ever had before.
He pulled out a condom, tore it open himself, and guided Fang Juexia’s soft hand, coaxing him to put it on. That already erect, swollen member stood stiffly aimed at him, like a merciless gun. The condom was too slippery; Fang Juexia’s forehead was covered in sweat, and it took one last attempt before he finally got it on.
“Thank you,” Pei Tingsong murmured, leaning down to kiss his cheek. He whispered “I love you” countless times, calling his name, calling him Juexia.
Then his fingers pressed into Fang Juexia’s buttocks, parting the two snow-white mounds, and he entered Fang Juexia’s body.
This was Pei Tingsong’s first time truly uniting with another human—the one he loved most.
Fang Juexia felt as if his body had been split open by a summer lightning bolt. He cried out, trying to pull away, his snow-white thighs trembling.
“Don’t be afraid,” Pei Tingsong murmured, his massive head already stretching Fang Juexia to his limit. He could only soothe him. “Brother, don’t be afraid. I’ll kiss you, okay? Kiss you.” He lowered his head to tongue-kiss him, his hands kneading Fang Juexia’s buttocks, coaxing him to relax bit by bit.
“Tingsong… ugh… it hurts so much.”
“Me too,” Pei Tingsong’s sweat dripped down. “You’re so tight, I can’t get in. You’re biting me so hard it hurts.”
Hearing him say it hurt, Fang Juexia felt a wave of tenderness wash over him in his dazed state. He kissed the sweat from Pei Tingsong’s forehead, trying hard to relax himself. “Like this… like this?”
Pei Tingsong entered deeper, letting out a satisfied sigh against Fang Juexia’s body. “Brother, can I move?”
Fang Juexia nodded with reddened eyes, only to be met with Pei Tingsong’s fierce thrusts. Like a young beast experiencing heat for the first time, he rocked his hips forward, penetrating Fang Juexia so deeply he cried out. He’d never imagined union could feel like this—every cell in his body shattered by Pei Tingsong’s thrusts, birthing a destructive pleasure. Soft, tight flesh sucked tightly around Pei Tingsong, sending tingles through his scalp and spine. Making love with someone he adored felt this exquisite. He thrust hard. “Do you like it, Brother? Does it feel good?” Fang Juexia was driven to incoherence. “Too… too deep… Ting Song, slow down.”
“Does deeper not feel good? I’m inside you, look,” he pinned Fang Juexia against the headboard, forcing him to arch his back to see. “Look, you’ve swallowed me whole.”
These words were wickedly blunt, setting Fang Juexia ablaze from head to toe. With no escape from his thrusts, Pei Tingsong gripped his slender waist and pulled him down, driving his cock deeper, pounding him with frenzied intensity.
He felt like he was on a bed, yet also like a ship tossed in a storm—Pei Tingsong’s tidal waves would push him ashore only to ruthlessly drag him back down, trapping him in the deep sea of lust.
“No more, ah, I—Tingsong, please…” Fang Juexia shook his head, his upper body flushed an unnatural crimson. The redness at his temples had merged with his birthmark, making him resemble a peach ripe enough to burst with a gentle squeeze. Rain began falling outside once more, its patter amplifying the pitiful quality of Fang Juexia’s feeble plea. “I… I need to use the bathroom…”
“Is that so?” Pei Tingsong maliciously stroked Fang Juexia’s penis, his smile widening at the sharp cry.
“Our Juexia drank a lot of water, didn’t he? What are we to do? I can’t just pull out now.”
“You can, Ting Song,” Fang Juexia pleaded, his expression achingly beautiful. “Just for a moment.”
“I can’t leave you for even a second,” Pei Tingsong whispered cruel words of affection. He hoisted his lover up, wrapping his legs around his waist as he carried him to the master bathroom. With every step, he thrust deeper inside him, even more deeply than before.
He was Fang Juexia’s sole anchor—the blade that slaughtered him, yet also his lifeline.
Fang Juexia was nearly brought to tears by the relentless thrusting. The unbearable pressure in his groin made him pound and push against Pei Tingsong’s chest. “Let me go, you bastard! Hurry up, I can’t take it anymore.”
“When things are good, you’re my treasure. When they’re bad, I’m a bastard.” Pei Tingsong endured a sweat-soaked head, finally setting him down so his feet touched the floor. He withdrew, flipped Fang Juexia over, and the wet, slippery opening gaped like a breathing mouth, opening and closing. Fang Juexia’s hands trembled as he struggled to lift the toilet lid, only for Pei Tingsong to thrust into him from behind the next instant.
A torrential rain poured outside the window, each drop slamming against the transparent glass with a sharp patter.
Pei Tingsong thrust wildly against his most sensitive spot. Fang Juexia’s legs trembled, darkness clouding his vision. He imagined himself as a movie protagonist wielding a knife, stabbing wildly into a warm chest as crimson fluid spilled out.
Kill your darling.
My darling is killing me.
“Ah, Ah, no, help me…”
Liquid.
“I am saving you. I am saving you.”
His waist was seized, the slender white waist collapsing to meet the assault. He was a breached wall, dignity crumbling, desire unleashed.
“No, I’m dying, Ting Song, Ting Song…”
Fluid spilled out, dripping like rain.
“You’re not dead,” Pei Tingsong declared, feeling the passage contract violently. He embraced his limp body from behind, licking and kissing the cartilage of his ear as he stated the truth, “You just peed yourself from being fucked so hard.”
Fang Juexia watched himself pee, his pitiful cock trembling uncontrollably from being fucked. He’d made such a mess, and he hated being dirty.
But it felt so good, so incredibly good, he didn’t care about cleanliness anymore.
“Tingsong, faster. I want it.” Already fucked into incoherence, his words flew out without passing through his brain or entering his ears—pure, raw desire.
Pei Tingsong held back until he was on the verge of exploding, his voice hoarse as he continued to nibble at Fang Juexia’s ear. “How are you so good at seducing me, hmm?” Each thrust hit his most sensitive spot. “Am I the best at seducing you?”
“Yes, I… I seduced you…”
He kneaded Fang Juexia’s buttocks fiercely, kissing the birthmark at his temple and the corner of his eye. “You’re so beautiful, you were born to seduce me, right?”
Fang Juexia had lost all reason. “Yes, yes… I just wanted to seduce you, wanted you to fuck me, fuck me…”
“…Ah, ah…” He got his wish, fucked by the boy three years his junior until he lost control, lost himself, his pride in emotional restraint reduced to dust.
The pleasure erased even his sanity. He cried out wildly as he was thrust into, frantically clawing at the wall, toes digging into the floor, only incoherent words escaping him. “Ah, ah, no, so deep, Ting Song, Ting Song…”
His passage tightened, spasming in waves. Pei Tingsong knew he was close, thrusting with all his strength, more brutal than any beast. And so, Fang Juexia was fucked standing up, driven to another climax. Fluid spilled from his tip, trickling down his thighs. Pei Tingsong came too—he could feel it, his damp chest pressed against his back as he gasped for breath.
He felt like he was dying, his shame grinding him to dust. Gasping for air, he leaned against Pei Tingsong. “How… how did this happen? What’s wrong with me?”
Pei Tingsong lifted his chin and gave him a tender kiss, slowly withdrawing from his body. As he kissed him, he whispered, “I love you. I love you so much.”
Only then did Fang Juexia realize he was crying—he hadn’t even noticed. “I love you too, Pei Tingsong.”
“I know.” Pei Tingsong kissed the birthmark dampened by tears. “Love is a great thing, isn’t it?”
Fang Juexia nodded, like a devotee reciting poetry to their beloved, believing every word Pei Tingsong spoke.
He said, “We’re making love.”
“We’re magnificent.”
Author’s Note:
After wrapping up the daily life segment, it’s time to dive back into the entertainment industry storyline.
