The floor heating had long since been turned off, and turning on the bathroom heater would be way too hot. After Xiao Yao’s shower, the bathroom temperature was just right — neither hot nor cold.
Ti Xiao pinched the soft flesh on his belly and, thinking about Xiao Yao’s eight-pack, felt a little ashamed. Thinking about what was about to happen next made him even more embarrassed. He purposely took his time in the shower, stretching what should have been a half-hour routine into a whole hour.
By the time he came out, it was almost 10:30.
As he dressed, he heard a rustling sound, like something being taken out of a plastic bag.
Then the sound of a wrapper tearing, followed by a sharp “tsk,” and something being tossed into the trash can.
Ti Xiao took a deep breath; nervousness began to well up inside. He glanced toward the bedroom and only saw one of Xiao Yao’s legs.
Even though they were at home, Ti Xiao felt like he was sneaking into a hotel room for a secret tryst. Though it should be a natural progression of passion, he felt the weight of ritual in the air.
Xiao Yao wore a Japanese-style robe, carefully put on. The inner belt was tied into a tight knot by Ti Xiao, and the outer belt was firmly tied as well, wrapping Xiao Yao completely. Slowly, he moved toward the bedroom.
Only then did Ti Xiao see what Xiao Yao had thrown in the trash.
A box of condoms.
At that moment, Ti Xiao’s whole body flushed red from head to toe like a cooked shrimp.
Xiao Yao sat on the bed and, following Ti Xiao’s gaze, kindly explained: “The size didn’t quite fit. They were a bit small.”
Ti Xiao: “…”
What was he trying to brag about???
“Do you want me to blow-dry your hair?” Xiao Yao asked, already grabbing the hairdryer from the nightstand and patting his own thigh, inviting Ti Xiao to sit.
Ti Xiao, unwilling to face his fate, shuffled over like a snail. Just as he got close, Xiao Yao pulled him firmly onto his lap, steady and secure — much like the night Xiao Yao confessed his feelings, pulling him close without question.
The hairdryer hummed overhead, warm fingers gently weaving through his damp hair. Ti Xiao’s mind began to wander, and he started feeling hot — sweating even though he’d just finished showering.
Uncomfortable and restless.
Xiao Yao looked down at him, watching Ti Xiao shift left and right on his lap.
He watched the swirl of hair at the crown of Ti Xiao’s head, strands lifted by the warm air brushing his cheeks — ticklish — then down to the small patch of pale neck revealed when Ti Xiao lowered his head. He wanted to bite it.
“What are you biting my neck for?” Ti Xiao suddenly jumped up, startled by the sensation on his nape. He retreated several steps and bumped into the door.
Xiao Yao turned off the hairdryer; the loud noise abruptly stopped. His gaze swept over Ti Xiao without concealment, emotions bare and unreserved, as if staring at his prey.
“You think you’re an Alpha or something? Need to mark me too?” Ti Xiao covered the back of his neck, still rambling. He could feel a faint dent where teeth had bitten down—completely unaware that danger was creeping closer with every second.
“Xiao Xiao.” A breathy voice came from the other side of the door, followed by a sudden smack as a hand slammed against the wood, resting right beside his ear.
When he confessed, it was a knee slam; now, it was a wall slam.
“Damn, what’s with that?” Ti Xiao swallowed nervously, not daring to meet the intense gaze. His eyes flickered between Xiao Yao’s chest and abs, trying to count an extra muscle or two.
They were only about four inches apart, their breaths mingling and spraying onto each other’s faces. Ti Xiao’s cheeks burned, unsure if it was from embarrassment or heat.
Thankfully, the room was dimly lit.
Xiao Yao called his name once and then said nothing else. They just stood there—frozen. Neither of them made a move.
Ti Xiao’s talent for playing dead—like an ostrich, a goldfish, or a turtle—was unmatched. After a long stalemate, Xiao Yao finally stepped back first.
“If you’re scared, we don’t have to do this,” Xiao Yao said, taking a deep breath. “You’re shaking so much, looks like you really don’t want to.”
Then, as usual, he pinched Ti Xiao’s cheek.
Xiao Yao had done his homework, bought everything they might need—well prepared. But as the receiving end, Ti Xiao knew he was going to have to endure some pain.
“I’m going to the bathroom. You’re tired, just go to sleep first,” Xiao Yao said, reaching for the door handle.
Before he finished, Ti Xiao closed his eyes and crashed into him, pushing Xiao Yao backward a step. His voice was muffled but firm, “Who said I don’t want to?”
There was a little hint of resentment, a little hesitation in his voice.
Xiao Yao froze for a moment, then picked him up and laid him on the bed. Seeing Ti Xiao biting his lip, with reddened eyes, he thought, This is too cute—I might cry.
The next day, Ti Xiao was the first to open his eyes. He woke up sore—especially in his waist and butt.
His whole body ached terribly, bones felt like they had been broken apart and put back together again. Every joint was filled with soreness. It felt like someone had dropped him from the Himalayas and caught him just one meter above the ground.
In novels and comics, the top usually wakes up first, and then they share an intimate “good morning” scene before spending another day together.
Ti Xiao rubbed his waist, a sharp ache shooting through.
Pfft, fairy tales are all lies.
The pleasure was real, but so was the pain.
Scenes from last night, flushed and heated, played like a movie in his mind, impossible to shake off, drilling deeper and deeper.
A copy of “100 Positions for Male-Male Couples” lay on the nightstand—bought by Xiao Yao himself. Last night, Xiao Yao flipped through it repeatedly, searching for new moves. Ti Xiao gave it a disapproving look and thought Xiao Yao might actually put his research into practice next time.
At the same time, he never expected their bodies to fit together so perfectly, with such natural harmony.
Ti Xiao’s throat felt sore, probably from last night. He wanted to get up and grab a glass of water, but as soon as he sat up, a sharp intake of breath escaped—“Hiss!”
Xiao Yao, still asleep beside him, immediately woke up. His long arm reached out and pulled Ti Xiao back down, fingers naturally sliding lower.
“Xiao Yao! …Mmph!” Ti Xiao barely got the words out before his mouth was covered.
After last night’s tangled wrestling, Ti Xiao’s lips were still a bit swollen, soft with lingering sweetness. Xiao Yao’s hand, which he expected to go lower, stayed on his waist, gently massaging.
Xiao Yao released him, kissed his cheek, and with fingers tracing Ti Xiao’s lips, asked, “What should I call you?”
Blushing, Ti Xiao pursed his lips silently. Last night, under coaxing, he had said every embarrassing pet name—brother, husband, darling.
Even though, technically, Ti Xiao was two months older than Xiao Yao.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Xiao Yao pulled him into his arms and rubbed against him.
“You tell me,” Ti Xiao closed his eyes, feeling the neat, steady hands kneading and rubbing at his waist. “A little to the left.”
“A bit higher—higher up. No scratching, though.”
Since crossing that line, their relationship had shifted. Before, Ti Xiao was the mischievous one, but now he fully took charge, directing Xiao Yao with just a look, having him run circles at his command.
He’d become like someone with disabilities—can’t carry a thing, can’t lift a hand, just waits to be served, giving orders like it’s perfectly natural.
He understood now why Xiao Yao chose Saturday for all this.
Serving him at home, taking advantage of him whenever he wanted—a little tug here, a quick kiss there, a touch now and then.
“Sorry, I have to go to school this afternoon,” Xiao Yao said apologetically, offering Ti Xiao some char siu pork from his bowl. “There’s a make-up class; they only told me this morning. I originally planned to spend the whole day with you.”
Ti Xiao had a soft cushion under his lower back and butt, slowly slurping noodles. When he heard Xiao Yao speak, he looked up. “Oh? Go ahead.”
Private schools weren’t like public ones; no one cared about make-up classes.
“What do you want for dinner?” Xiao Yao leaned down to pinch his cheek, asking as usual.
Ti Xiao replied, then got a solid, lingering kiss before watching Xiao Yao hop out the door with bouncy steps.
No one was there to serve him or take advantage anymore, so Ti Xiao started revising the manuscript he was preparing for publication. The steamy scenes mostly had to go, but cutting them made the story less smooth. He had to add new content to fill the gaps—a draining and time-consuming job.
After only a few pages, Ti Xiao started slacking off. The soreness in his lower back kept breaking his focus. Sitting was uncomfortable; he didn’t feel like drawing anymore, so he just flopped on the bed and started pestering Xiao Yao.
Magic Conch: cough cough
Xiao Yao replied instantly.
past: What’s up? Snacks are under the coffee table, but don’t eat too much.
Magic Conch: When are you coming back? I’m so bored.
past: Around 5 in the afternoon.
Ti Xiao looked at the SpongeBob and Patrick avatars on the screen and smiled thoughtfully.
Magic Conch: Change your name. Call yourself “Magic Conch’s Shell.”
He’d thought of that that morning when Xiao Yao hugged him from behind—like a shell protecting him, giving him a sense of safety.
past: Okay.
After receiving the message, Ti Xiao glanced again and saw the name had been changed.
Xiao Yao sat in the classroom, smiled at the new name. Actually, he wanted to call it “Little Tug’s Shell,” since he had a nickname for Ti Xiao.
Several female classmates were sneaking glances at Xiao Yao while writing their tests, whispering to each other.
“Did you see that? Did you see that? His smile melted my heart.”
“Too bad I didn’t record it. I should’ve made a video.”
“Shh, hurry up and write! He’s looking this way.”
Ti Nanyi bit her pen, quietly pulled out her phone to check the WeChat names of her uncle and teacher, then looked at Xiao Yao’s pink Patrick Star avatar and sighed.
Her uncle really was quite the pro.
Xiao Yao went downstairs and paced a bit, thinking about whether to make some nourishing soup for Ti Xiao that night.
Ti Xiao was casually watching some anime when suddenly Guapi pulled him into a penguin group chat filled mostly with female authors from the platform.
The group was called “June Meetup Author Group One.”
Ti Xiao got teased by a few familiar ladies at first—male authors were rare, and although “Duck Neck” was a male author, he hid it well. His chat tone sounded just like a girl’s.
After a few messages, Ti Xiao got a private message from Guapi.
Editor Guapipi: Remember to keep your June schedule free. I’ll be at headquarters waiting to see what kind of monster you really are.
By June, Ti Xiao and Guapi’s collaboration would hit three full years—they’d become pretty good friends.
“Smart and Brave Big Achoo”: Got it, I’ll definitely be there.
He actually really wanted to see what Guapi looked like—and then figure out who that “Duck Neck” really was.
The two of them chatted on and on for a while, until Guapi was about to get off work. Just before logging off, he couldn’t help but ask again.
Editor Guapipi: Hey, that voice you use in your livestream—I swear, it sounds super familiar.
Ti Xiao was speechless. How had he still not deleted that?
Smart and Brave Big Achoo: Delete it, delete it! Otherwise, I’ll drag my deadlines again, and I’m not coming to June’s meetup.
Guapi ignored him. His avatar dimmed, so Ti Xiao figured he’d logged off and went back to watching his anime.
Li Yi was running back and forth, asking Ti Xiao and then Xiao Yao.
Li Yi: Hey, Xiao Yao, how do you usually call your guy at home?
Xiao Yao was out grocery shopping. Thinking of his “Little Tug,” a smile involuntarily spread across his lips as he raised his hand to reply.
Xiao Yao: Not telling you~
