Qiao Si was indeed intoxicated. The moment he got into the car, he reclined against the seat, using Duan Heng’s lap as a pillow. Duan Heng ensured he was steady and comfortable, his every movement careful and considerate. By the time they reached home, it was Duan Heng who supported him every step of the way, as they made their way into the house and up the stairs. With Duan Heng by his side, Qiao Si could relax completely, free from even the burden of his own weight. 

To prevent any mishaps from the alcohol, Qiao Si opted to cleanse himself in the shower before sinking into a warm bath. Duan Heng stood nearby, ready to attend whenever needed. In the mean time, Duan Heng’s hands massaged across his shoulders, the touch neither intrusive nor servile, but rather imbued with an intuitive precision. Under such ministrations, the bath became an indulgence of almost aristocratic decadence. 

Once Duan Heng had helped him into a robe and settled him into bed, the room was even imbued with the soothing aroma of his favorite incense. It was about time for Duan Heng to be dismissed for the night. 

But after the warmth of the bath and the intoxicating scent, Qiao Si found himself feeling rather aroused. Duan Heng had just finished arranging the bedding for him, his body still bent slightly forward. His closeness carried a certain scent, one that Qiao Si found both comforting and, unexpectedly, slightly alluring. 

With a low hum as he was too indolent to articulate a proper command, he shifted into the most relaxed position, loosening the sash of his robe and reaching out to tug at Duan Heng’s collar, drawing him closer. 

Duan Heng, ever attuned to unspoken commands, moved with firm understanding. With practiced grace, he lowered himself, his head buried between Qiao Si’s parted legs. Cupping the full curves of Qiao Si’s buttocks, his lips a whirlwind of teasing kisses and gentle licks, then savored it whole. 

Qiao Si allowed himself to drift into the sensation of pleasure. His body writhing to the quiet service lavished upon him, a series of involuntary moans escaping his lips as Duan Heng’s masterful tongue teased and explored. As the climax surged through him, Qiao Si surrendered completely, flinging his legs over Duan Heng’s shoulders, offering himself up for further indulgence. 

Enveloped by the warmth of Duan Heng’s mouth, it was unbearable to hold long before Qiao Si reached his peak. A wave of blissful exhaustion washed over him, his senses fading as he drifted into a haze of contentment. 

Duan Heng, however, showed no signs of retreating. His kisses between the legs continued, tender and persistent, while his fingers instinctively seeking across Qiao Si’s sensitive skin. 

Half-drifting between wakefulness and slumber, Qiao Si considered dismissing him, but the sensations were too exquisite to resist. Lost in the haze of comfort, soft moans escaped his lips as he unconsciously spread his legs wider, inviting more opportunities for exploration. 

Then, a dream enveloped him. In this dream, Duan Heng shed each layer of his clothing, including his pants, revealing a physique of breathtaking beauty. The young man’s body in the dream was unveiled with an artistry that seemed almost unreal, his physique exuding a sculpted elegance. But it was the region between his legs that truly defied belief. Duan Heng mounted the bed, kneeling between Qiao Si’s parted legs, his hands finding their way to Qiao Si’s hips as he lifted him higher. 

The dream was a surreal tapestry of forbidden desires when Qiao Si felt himself being penetrated, by a hot, hard, and relentless object, driving deep within him. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. With the strength of a wild animal, the young man held him aloft, each thrust a forceful, rhythmic assault. Qiao Si could feel the deep, primal rhythm within him, the invasion of what was inside him was a burning inferno within his depths. 

The dream escalated into a frenzy of passion when the young man lifted Qiao Si’s legs, seeking a deeper, more intimate connection as their bodies entwined in a primal dance of desire. The intensity was overwhelming, a crescendo of sensation that transcended reality. 

Emboldened by Qiao Si’s haziness, his movements grew increasingly forceful and demanding. The dream spiraled into a maelstrom of illicit desires, a relentless pursuit of pleasure that knew no bounds. The young man, penetrated into him again and again, his hips thrusting with a savage intensity, gradually spreading Qiao Si’s leg wider than before. He cupped his buttocks, indulging in his lust as their bodies beneath were soaked with arousal. 

Later, Qiao Si even found himself astride on the young man’s waist, their movements in a frenzied rhythm that pushed him to the very limit. In the dream, he cried out, “No more,” but the young man, heedless of his pleas, intensified his movement. 

Qiao Si awoke with a searing pressure throbbed in his head, as though his skull might fracture under the weight of it. Despite the yielding softness of the mattress beneath him, his back and waist ached with a deep and unrelenting soreness. His entire body felt heavy, burdened by an unfamiliar and dull pain that lingered in his lower back. 

The soft light seeping through the curtains painted the room in muted hues, marking the passage of time into the late afternoon. Squinting against the sudden brightness, he noticed something dark rested upon his chest, the faint trace of contact leaving a peculiar, almost ticklish sensation against his skin. 

Awareness struck him with sharp clarity. His body lay in a state of vulnerable sprawl, legs loosely spread. Beside him, a man reclined with an air of unconscious intimacy, one leg draped possessively over his, while his head was nestling against Qiao Si’s chest. 

It was a familiar face, youthful and tranquil in the unguarded stillness of slumber. 

Qiao Si froze for a few seconds, the reality settling in with an icy weight that drained the color from his face. His brows furrowed sharply as he shoved the sleeping man aside to get dressed and stood by the bed for a moment before calling in a low voice, “Duan Heng.” 

The man with his bare back exposed, lay sprawled across the chaotic tangle of silk bedding. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with the remnants of sleep. 

Without a warning, Qiao Si raised his hand and delivered a sharp and merciless slap that echoed through the room. 

The force of it jolted the man awake, it was enough to stun him completely. His hair was still tousled, framing a face painted with equal parts shock and incomprehension. His eyes widened in shock as he looked up at Qiao Si, like a bewildered puppy he was. 

“Get dressed.” 

The man responded without a delay, refraining from any unnecessary words, as he straightened with practiced swiftness and followed the command. 

Qiao Si observed him as he fastened his trousers. With a detached coldness, he ordered, “Kneel.” 

Duan Heng hesitated for a fleeting moment, his torso still bared, but ultimately lowered himself to his knees in muted submission.  

Qiao Si spared him no further attention, leaving him kneeling in silent contemplation as he exited the room. 

The discomfort on his body sharpened Qiao Si’s irritation. After a moment of repose, he summoned the doctor to conduct a thorough examination and administer the necessary treatment. Ensuring his condition was addressed, he reclined half-upright, signaling for his trusted aide, Qiao Bo, to make preparations while he worked on his temper. 

It was true that being the passive party did not diminish his unassailable dignity. Just like how only apes drummed their chests to assert dominance. He, Qiao Si, maintained his sovereignty, even when Duan Heng had been the one to penetrate him. Who would dare to claim that he was not the one in command? 

It was just that Duan Heng had breached the boundaries. 

No matter how favored he was, he should know better about the rules. 

As one entrusted with the task of serving him, Duan Heng’s sole responsibility was to fulfill his pleasure. A certain degree of physical reaction might have arisen was understandable, but even then, restraint was a fundamental requirement—a principle so basic that even a novice could comprehend. 

Who gave him the audacity to vent his frustrations so indiscriminately? 

Since when did he think he could overstep his bounds? 

Now that he had grown too bold, he became reckless. Duan Heng needed to remember this lesson well, so he would not act out of line again in the future. 

When Qiao Si returned to the room, Duan Heng was still kneeling silently, but his gaze lifted to meet Qiao Si’s, which irritated him greatly. 

“Do you know what you did wrong?” 

The man, however, shook his head. 

Qiao Si’s expression darkened as his voice thickened with anger. “You have quite the nerve.” 

“Fourth Master, you said I could ask for a reward.” 

Qiao Si was taken aback by the defiance and was about to erupt in anger but instead sneered, “Is this something you believe you can ask for?” 

Duan Heng said nothing more, though there was an unmistakable trace of stubbornness shown, he was still not fully reconciled.  

The rare defiance only served to stoke Qiao Si’s fury further. He gestured for Qiao Bo to bring over the prepared whip. 

“Very well,” Qiao Si said, “for those you don’t understand, I will teach you today.” 

Duan Heng knelt with his head lowered, as Qiao Si personally struck his back with the whip. The lashes were severe, the force behind them unrelenting, his back was soon a canvas of crimson welts. 

Given his special status, more sadistic forms of punishment were out of the question, but he needed to feel the pain—so much that it became unbearable. So that he would learn what he had failed to understand; and force him to remember what he had forgotten. Only through such suffering can one truly learn. 

His arm began to ache, and his anger started to subside, Qiao Si paused to catch his breath before asking, “Now, do you know what you did wrong?” 

Throughout the whipping, Duan Heng had borne the lashes in silence. However, under the cold and pressured atmosphere, he finally spoke, “Fourth Master, I was wrong.” 

Despite his tall stature, he was still young, and the shame that accompanied the punishment was all too evident on his face. 

Qiao Si offered a measured nod before turning to leave. After a few paces, he instructed Qiao Bo, who stood nearby, “Take him to see a doctor. Once he’s better, arrange for a suitable entourage for him. Both male and female.” 

The private lives of well-known celebrities were often subject to excessive scrutiny, their grueling schedules holding down on them, leaving little room for release. Yet, they were only human, naturally possessed physiological needs as the pent-up tension and unspoken pressures demanded proper channels for release. 

After all, Qiao Si had always favored Duan Heng and was always fair in his rewards and punishments. 

Duan Heng had recently become less attentive, but Qiao Si never took offense from it. Those accustomed to being elevated—like Duan Heng—inevitably developed an air of arrogance. A few stinging blows would, in all likelihood, bruise his pride, leaving him to sulk for a spell. 

After a few days, Qiao Si decided it was time, and ordered someone to bring Duan Heng to him. However, the messenger returned empty-handed, reporting, “Fifth Master has taken Master Duan to play golf.” 

Qiao Si furrowed his brows and closed his eyes to rest for a moment, then instructed, “Prepare the car.” 

Qiao Si personally went to the golf course. While still seated in the cart, he saw Qiao Che from a distance, his tall and elegant figure executed a fluid swing of his club. 

Duan Heng stood beside Qiao Che, both seemingly engrossed in a conversation, laughing softly and standing unusually close, creating a scenario that seemed both pleasant and ambiguous. Qiao Che appeared to be instructing him on his form, guiding him from behind like an embrace. 

As the cart approached, the two men turned their heads towards the sound. 

Upon seeing Qiao Si, Duan Heng quickly released his hold and called out, “Fourth Master.” Qiao Che, however, remained indifferent, his displeasure at the interruption showed, and without acknowledging him, he continued with his shot. 

The attendants took the clubs as Qiao Si disembarked from the cart. Looking at the picturesque scene of the two men standing side by side, he remarked, “Why didn’t you invite me to play golf?” 

Duan Heng smiled, “I thought Fourth Master might not enjoy it…” 

Qiao Si selected a club, eyeing him as he did so, “How do you know I don’t enjoy it?” 

Qiao Che suddenly laughed, “I was the one who told him that. With your skills, you’d only embarrass yourself.” 

It had been quite some time since Qiao Che last spoke to Qiao Si, and now he turned his face towards Duan Heng. “I don’t feel like playing anymore. Let’s go.” 

Qiao Si composed himself, watching as Qiao Che walked away. Duan Heng seemed hesitant, but Qiao Che turned back with a smile, “What, are you sad that you’re not embarrassed enough?” 

The two of them seemed to have no secrets between each other, even Qiao Che knew what had happened that night. 

Qiao Si finally spoke, “Duan Heng, come here.” 

There was no need for him to repeat himself, as he handed the club to an attendant before turning and walking away. Soon enough, he heard Duan Heng following behind. No matter how Duan Heng may have mocked him behind his back, in front of him, he could never dare to disobey—he was, after all, the most powerful man in this place. 

“What did Qiao Che say to you?” 

Duan Heng carefully considered his words before responding, “A few… things about the past between you two.” 

Qiao Si slightly lifted his eyelids, “Was it interesting?” 

Even though he had almost drained Qiao Che’s authority within their organization, there had been a time when Qiao Che had, indeed, gotten the better of him. 

He recalled the foolish things he had done in front of Qiao Che, the naive behavior of someone in love—like a lovesick fool. It was Qiao Che who had taught him golf, who was an expert at the game. In those infatuated years, Qiao Si would feign incompetence, repeatedly “failing to learn,” just to have Qiao Che guide him, seeking moments of fleeting touch. 

Looking back, there were indeed many laughable moments, even though they were heartfelt at the time. 

As for Duan Heng, he had expected that the punishment would have made him learn his lesson. But instead, Duan Heng had turned around and flaunted his encounter with Qiao Che. In this regard, the two of them seemed to be a perfect match. 

Duan Heng remained silent, not daring to utter a word. The stillness was pierced by Qiao Si’s voice as he continued, “You’ve got quite the nerve.” 

Duan Heng hastily replied, “Fourth Master, I didn’t say anything inappropriate. I’ve remembered all the things you’ve taught me.” 

“Is that so?” Qiao Si’s gaze remained fixed. “What you think in your heart is none of my business. But you best keep your hands in check…” 

Before Qiao Si could complete his sentence, darkness masked his vision, and his lips were silenced. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but when Duan Heng drew back, looking down at him, his voice quietly as he spoke, “There is nothing between me and Qiao Che.” 

Qiao Si furrowed his brows, regaining his composure, and completed his earlier statement, “And your mouth.” 

Duan Heng leaned in again, this time the kiss lingering longer, soft and almost tender in its devotion. 

Both kisses were abrupt, and while the technique was impressive, However, Qiao Si felt little to almost no sense of any true affection within them. It felt more like a wayward pet trying to appease its owner mid-reprimand. 

There’s a saying, “One doesn’t strike a smiling face.” When faced with attempts at placation, there is always a tendency to soften. Duan Heng understood well the art of redemption after a misstep. 

Indeed, with such a gesture of contrition, Qiao Si felt the urge for punishment dissipate by several degrees. After all, the rumors whispered behind his back were of little consequence to him. There were always people who would mock, belittle, or despise him in secret, but what mattered was that he only needed them to be useful, obedient, and fearful of him. Anything beyond that held no weight. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Fourth Master, are you still angry with me?” 

Qiao Si’s gaze shifted upward, only to catch sight of Qiao Che, who was meant to have departed, stood at a distance, staring at them intently. It was unclear how long he had been watching. 

Qiao Che had never deigned to meet his gaze for a long time. Initially, Qiao Si had believed that earning Qiao Che’s favor would require relentless efforts, that only through relentless attempts to win his approval could he attract his attention. However, now he realized that evoking Qiao Che’s displeasure might be far more potent. 

With that thought settling in his mind, Qiao Si lightly pushed Duan Heng’s forehead, then gently ruffled his hair. “Tomorrow, you’ll move in with me.” 

As a fresh, alluring scent wafted through the air, Qiao Si stirred, still in a half-dreaming state, his eyes fluttering open to meet the soft curve of a smile. 

Qiao Si lazily uttered a “Mn” in response. 

The flowers in the room had been replaced again, freshly cut by Duan Heng from the garden. During the few days since his arrival, Duan Heng’s mood had been notably bright, and his attentiveness bordered on devotion. He even went so far as to take on the servants’ tasks with an eagerness that bespoke of more than mere obligation. It was easy to see why—who could resist the allure of living in such a luxurious villa? 

Moreover, everyone knew of Qiao Si’s generosity. At a moment’s whim; a moment of indulgence, and the villa might easily be gifted away. 

As Duan Heng attended to him, helping him rise from bed, Qiao Si leaned back against the pillows with his feet resting on Duan Heng’s lap, watching him carefully slip on his shoes. The solid comfort of Duan Heng’s sturdy knee beneath his foot and the warmth of his hands as they held his bare feet sent a wave of serenity through Qiao Si, and a drowsy sensation began to settle over him. 

A faint knock at the door roused him from his reverie. Qiao Bo entered, announcing, “Fourth Master, Fifth Master has arrived and awaits you in the hall.” 

Qiao Si snapped awake, swiftly withdrawing his foot and standing to his feet. He gestured to Duan Heng, “You may leave.” 

With a soft smile, Duan Heng stood with equal composure and gently draped a coat over Qiao Si’s shoulders. 

The last time Qiao Che had come to him of his own accord seemed like a distant memory, a moment so rare it had faded into a haze of uncertainty. Walking down the stairs, Qiao Si found himself unable to restrain a surge of pleasant fantasies, his expression softening in spite of himself. 

Qiao Che sat there, dressed in a pristine white shirt paired with camel-colored trousers, his long legs elegantly crossed. His beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. The table was already set with tea and refreshments. He held a cup delicately between his slender fingers, the jade-like hue setting off the vivid color of his lips. 

Qiao Si stepped into the room and approached. On his arrival, Qiao Che lifted his gaze and lowered the teacup. 

There was an innate nonchalance etched into Qiao Che’s features, yet his melancholic and cold eyes always seemed to carry an elusive depth, affectionate illusion in those who met his gaze. Simply sitting across from him was enough to send Qiao Si’s heartbeat into an unsteady rhythm. 

“This tea is rather good.” 

“Is it?” 

“Haven’t you tried it yourself?” Qiao Che asked, lifting the teapot, “Then you should.” 

If Qiao Che had treated him with pure disdain, Qiao Si would have given up after all these years of entanglement. But these occasional moments of unexpected gentleness left him utterly disoriented by hope. 

After finishing a cup of tea, Qiao Che asked, “Where’s Duan Heng?” 

Qiao Si’s face stiffened slightly, the warmth of the moment lingering just enough to delay his reaction, leaving him momentarily lost in the illusion of gentleness. 

“He’s been with you lately, and it’s been a long time since I last saw him. I quite miss him.” 

Qiao Si’s expression darkened at once, “he’s busy with work.” 

Qiao Che glanced at him once more, and said, “If Duan Heng’s busy, then I’ll leave.” 

Qiao Si paused for a moment, his disappointment carefully concealed beneath a composed exterior. Finally, he rose to his feet, and said, “Let me check if he has finished his tasks.” 

At that precise moment, Duan Heng was swimming with boundless vigor, the water rippling like waves by his powerful strokes. Seeing Qiao Si by the edge of the pool, Duan Heng swam toward him like a merman, a carefree smile lighting up his face as his hand closed gently around Qiao Si’s ankle. 

Qiao Si, filled with rage, kicked him square in the chest. 

Though the force was not excessive, it was enough to startle Duan Heng, who paused briefly before laughing it off. “What’s troubling you, Fourth Master?” 

“Get out, put on your clothes, and go keep Fifth Master company,” Qiao Si’s replied with a voice as cold as ice. 

“Me? For how long?” 

“For as long as he wishes.” 

Understanding flickered across Duan Heng’s expression as he offered a knowing smile. 

“And remember to mention me often while you are with him.” 

From behind the floor-to-ceiling glass, Qiao Si observed Qiao Che and Duan Heng seated opposite each other. Though their interactions were free of physical intimacy, the subtle flirtation between them was noticeable. 

Qiao Si had expected too much from Qiao Che. Keeping Duan Heng around had always been part of a calculated effort to draw Qiao Che closer. He knew precisely why Qiao Che had come today, yet in a rare lapse, he had allowed himself to forget it amidst fleeting hope. 

For as long as the two spoke in the living room, Qiao Si silently watched them. 

Every smile Qiao Che directed at Duan Heng, every fleeting look, every graceful movement of his hand, it was torment incarnate to Qiao Si. This kind of observation was undoubtedly self-torture, but being able to observe Qiao Che so openly and so unabashedly, was somewhat enjoyable. 

His life was one of debauchery, though in his core, he was a hopelessly devoted soul. The so-called “love” of the past had been a deception, but even now, he had yet to disentangle himself from its lingering shadow. 

At last, Qiao Che bid his farewell and departed. Qiao Si, on the other hand, had his feast filled with every moment of watching him. 

After seeing Qiao Che to the door, Qiao Si turned back to look at Duan Heng. There was something about the subtle feeling that indicated a hint of spring in his eyes. Who could possibly remain unmoved in the presence of someone like Qiao Che? Even if Duan Heng repeatedly uttered his obedient “yes” and his usual “I understand.” Who would have guessed the unspoken fantasies that might be swirling in the depths of Duan Heng’s mind? The thought gnawed at him, setting his teeth on edge. 

Unrequited love was the cruelest torment. The idea of Qiao Che might truly harbor interest in Duan Heng—a real, genuine affection that he withheld from Qiao Si—was unbearable. 

He struggled to fathom what made Duan Heng so exceptional. Perhaps it was his striking looks, but there was no shortage of handsome men in this world. For someone as cold and indifferent as Qiao Che to show such favor towards Duan Heng was a puzzle Qiao Si could neither unravel nor accept. 

Returning to the room, Qiao Si commanded, “Take off your clothes and kneel.” 

Duan Heng hesitated for a fleeting moment before quickly complied. Deftly unfastened the buttons of his blouse with practiced ease. He lowered himself onto his knees, so that Qiao Si could sit in the chair and scrutinize the exposed broad shoulders, back, and sculpted chest. 

Indeed, Duan Heng was taller, more physically imposing, his frame exuded an athletic refinement—broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist. Perhaps it was his muscles honed with the precision of one who likely worked hard to meet the exacting aesthetic ideals of someone like Qiao Che. The sight only deepened the weight pressing against Qiao Si’s chest, a bitter reminder of his own inadequacies. 

“What did you two talk about today?” 

“We talked about you, Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si almost believed him, but as the thought settled, it was just a line crafted to soothe his ego. Everyone knew the art of saying what he liked to hear would secure his favor. 

“When Qiao Che visits again in the future, you’ll have to accompany him.” 

“But know your place and do your part. Don’t you dare get any ideas about him.” 

Duan Heng with a soft laugh as he reached for Qiao Si’s foot. As if in a silent gesture of loyalty, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the arch of Qiao Si’s foot. 

The kiss brought a slight tingle sensation, and Qiao Si found himself reassured—there was no real need to worry about Duan Heng truly getting entangled with Qiao Che. To Duan Heng, Qiao Si’s power was far more alluring than Qiao Che himself. Duan Heng’s achievements so far showed he was wise enough to make such obvious choices. 

For a momentary moment, Qiao Si considered taking Duan Heng for himself. In many ways, Duan Heng was loyal, resourceful, and undeniably attractive. It was almost unreasonable that he had yet to make use of him. 

Additionally, possessing someone Qiao Che had a fondness for would be a form of solace. That was just the kind of petty person Qiao Si was. 

Qiao Si bent down, hooked his fingers under the man’s chin, lifting the face that had captivated Qiao Che. The moment his fingers brushed against that skin, his thoughts drifted back to Qiao Che’s gaze. 

If only affection could be transmitted like an electric current through a conductor. 

“Duan Heng, would you be willing to stay with me?” 

Duan Heng showed no resistance, Instead, with practiced deference, he replied, “I’ve always been yours, Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si felt a deep sense of satisfaction. People, after all, enjoy the feeling of being catered to. “Get on the bed.” 

Duan Heng glanced at him, then obediently climbed onto the bed. 

However, as Duan Heng positioned himself, face down, Qiao Si began to feel somewhat conflicted. This man was far outside his usual aesthetic preferences. 

What Qiao Si relished was the sensation of cradling those fragile younger boys in his arms, rather than pressing down on someone much broader and taller than himself, feeling as though he were riding atop as opposed to enveloping. This was the type that usually failed to incite his desires. 

Fortunately enough, Duan Heng was blessed with captivating features and his expertise in kissing was extraordinary. As their intimacy deepened, the room became clouded with erotic energy, igniting a corresponding fervor within Qiao Si. 

Amidst a whirlwind of teasing kisses and artful caresses, their clothes were discarded one by one—pants slipped down to expose bare hips. Kneeling on the bed, his head lowered between Qiao Si’s legs. His nimble tongue danced and teased, leaving Qiao Si on the brink of ecstasy, as his hand involuntarily tangled in the softness of the young man’s hair. 

Duan Heng cradled Qiao Si’s hips, his ministrations sending shivers down his spine. By the time Qiao Si was finally exhausted by the pleasure, collapsed breathlessly onto the bed in a haze of release. Duan Heng then lifted his head, his lips slick and his eyes glistening with desire. as though misted with unshed desire. 

Qiao Si ran his fingers through the hair atop Duan Heng’s head, much like one might caress a pet. A gesture that both dismissed and commanded for the young man to continue.  

Duan Heng lowered his head again, his lips and tongue tracing slow along the sensitive skin of Qiao Si’s inner thigh. There was a meticulousness to his services, a devotion in the way he remained fixed on one particular spot, teasing and tasting with almost reverent persistence. 

Qiao Si’s foot rested idly between Duan Heng’s bent legs, brushing against the hardened arousal. With the slightest friction, he could feel the firm heat palpable beneath the fabric. 

As he prolonged a few more teasing strokes, Duan Heng lifted his head, his gaze meeting Qiao Si’s. His pupils dilated with his expression betraying an almost unbearable yearning. 

A fleeting memory surfaced in Qiao Si’s mind—blurred recollections of a drunken encounter. Yet, he remembered the experience as being… not unpleasant. 

He believed in making the most of everything. Since his interest never once lied in indulging Duan Heng’s butt, then perhaps… 

Determined to make the most of the situation, Qiao Si pressed his foot against the young man’s evident arousal with measured pressure. His eyes remained fixed on the man’s face as color surged across, painting them an intense shade of red. 

“Don’t hurt me,” Qiao Si warned. 

Duan Heng’s was taken aback as his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief softening his otherwise disciplined demeanor. His expression, somehow, carried an unguarded innocence, almost endearing in its rarity. 

“If you can’t do this properly, then you might as well leave.” 

There was no reason to be surprised. Qiao Si was a man who enjoyed being pampered. As long as things were done to his satisfaction, he didn’t mind who did the work. Duan Heng was reliable, and there was no harm in letting him take the initiative. Qiao Si was not one to define his authority through domination. 

Duan Heng, understanding the unspoken request, leaned down and kissed Qiao Si’s navel. 

The repeated teasing of his tongue sent shivers down Qiao Si’s spine, eliciting a soft moan. Duan Heng pulled down Qiao Si’s pants further, lifted him onto his lap, and placed a pillow beneath his hips for comfort before deepening his ministrations. 

As their passion intensified, Duan Heng gently prepared Qiao Si, his fingers sliding in and out until both were slick with arousal. The rhythmic thrusts of their bodies filled the room with heavy breathing. Just as Qiao Si was about to give in to his urges, Duan Heng eased his length into Qiao Si, his movements slow and controlled. Qiao Si had planned to stop if it became uncomfortable, but Duan Heng’s skill ensured that he felt nothing but pleasure. 

With each steady thrust, Qiao Si’s body tightened. Duan Heng, with his eyes locked on Qiao Si, his hands supporting his hips and waist as he continued on his gratification. 

The sensation was both exhilarating and overwhelming. The sweat dripping from Duan Heng’s brow onto Qiao Si’s stomach added an unexpected element of pleasure. As the intensity increased, Qiao Si found himself craving for more. Yet, Duan Heng, ever cautious, maintained a steady pace. 

Qiao Si grasped Duan Heng’s waist and urged him on, “Harder!” 

Duan Heng obeyed as his movements became more forceful and rhythmic. Qiao Si was on the verge of climax, his body convulsing with each thrust. 

As Qiao Si neared his limit, his pleas for restraint were lost in the intensity of their passion. Duan Heng, still driven by a primal urge, was completely unperturbed by Qiao Si’s reactions and continued his relentless pursuit. 

The young man’s stamina and enthusiasm took Qiao Si by surprise. With each forceful thrust, Qiao Si’s head was thrown back against the headboard, synchronizing along the rhythm of their intense motion; the impact was sharp and painful. He finally understood the source of his previous headache. 

It was so vigorous, Qiao Si had to clutch the bedpost. He wanted to condemn, to demand that the young man slow down, but the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through him made any words impossible, it was instead, reduced to helpless moans. It almost felt like he was being devoured by the sadomasochistic pleasure. 

In the tempestuous throes of passion, his fingers were forcibly intertwined with the young man’s. With each repeated penetration, the younger man’s expression was feral—it was as if some primal instinct had taken over—his body ablaze with raw desire as he consistently pierced into Qiao Si. The intense heat of their bodies connected, leaving even Duan Heng in a breathless and disoriented state. 

Driven to the brink of ecstasy by the ceaseless rhythms within him, Qiao Si found himself perpetually ejaculated. It brought forth an unparalleled euphoria he had never experienced before.