Ming Ying felt his body become light.
“No way…”
Holy shit, this was the first time in his life he’d ever been carried princess-style!
Silas carried him to the sofa and set him down. Ming Ying’s heart hammered in his chest.
It only paused for that single moment before the kiss came down.
And so Ming Ying’s breathing grew ragged. He couldn’t catch his breath. He felt like he was about to drown; his nasal cavity and mouth were filled with this man’s scent.
Even the floral fragrance from the side table seemed tainted.
So uncomfortable.
“Ming, why are you dodging?”
Damn, who could actually hold back?
Ming Ying’s face was flushed red, and at a moment like this, the rebellious streak kicked in—he raised his foot and kicked Silas in the calf.
“…”
The air fell silent for a second.
Then he heard Silas sigh by his ear and chuckle. “Ming, what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? You tell me.
Ming Ying panted, “It’s not fair!”
Silas propped himself up on his arms, looking down at him. “What fairness do you want?”
“I…”
Ming Ying wanted to say, damn it, why is he always the one pinned down?
The kid could never hide his emotions, the indignation written all over his face.
There was no way Silas couldn’t see it. He patted his face, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “What do you want to say? Hmm? Say it, let me hear it.”
“…”
Ming Ying bit his lip. Damn, he didn’t dare.
He couldn’t win a fight against this man.
So Student Ming Ying said, feeling wronged, “I, my mouth hurts. What were you doing to me just now?”
The man reached out and touched the corner of his lips.
They were indeed a bit red.
“Was that just now?”
“What else?”
“Mm. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Fuck
Maybe it was because Ming Ying’s expression was truly too much.
“Do you want to bite me back? I don’t mind,” Silas said.
Ming Ying’s eyes widened. He thought, how could someone be so shameless?
And so shameless so righteously.
“Who wants to…” Ming Ying said stubbornly, “I’m a straight man.”
Silas laughed.
The two sat side by side, thighs pressing against thighs .
The sofa was large, but the ambiguous… parts were all squeezed together.
Fine sweat began to form on Ming Ying’s forehead.
He had never felt this way before.
The two just sat there like that.
This man was wearing him down.
Ming Ying suddenly realized this.
Ming Ying coughed, trying to start a conversation. “Teacher, how old are you this year?”
“Ten years older than you.”
“…”
“What’s your Chinese zodiac sign?”
“Figure it out.”
“…”
“What’s your star sign?”
“October birthday.”
“You—”
“Ming, are you conducting a matchmaking interview?”
“…”
Ming Ying fell silent.
“I want to watch TV.”
“Alright.”
Silas bent over and picked up the remote from the coffee table for him.
Ming Ying took it, their fingertips brushing, the sensation like a jolt of electricity.
There was finally a third sound in the room, much to Ming Ying’s relief.
If only that third sound weren’t the sound of kissing.
“What garbage plot.” Ming Ying hastily, clumsily changed the channel.
Finally, he found a normal soccer channel.
“Watch this.”
Watching it, Student Ming Ying had another question.
“Which team is this?” Ming Ying frowned. “Is it Chelsea?”
“Ming, this is La Liga.”
“…”
Damn.
Truly unlucky.
Just as Ming Ying was regretting this, the person beside him reached out to wipe the corner of his mouth.
Ming Ying’s gaze followed the long fingers over to Silas.
The latter looked at him, not saying a word, but somehow saying everything.
Damn. Under that gaze, Ming Ying thought to himself, no wonder they say gambling/sex/, sex is ranked first. Who the hell could resist this?
Ming Ying felt that lasting over twenty years as a virgin truly made him a saint.
Saint Ming Ying immediately pressed over, biting Silas’s mouth.
Silas closed his eyes, his fingertips sliding into Ming Ying’s jet-black hair.
“Nothing there?” Ming Ying suddenly said.
A completely out-of-context sentence.
“What?”
“In the little movies I watched…”
Realizing what he was about to say, Ming Ying immediately shut his mouth.
He couldn’t just blurt things out like that.
Silas understood, however. He didn’t answer him, but stood up, leading the man to the entrance hall.
Ming Ying heard the sound of a drawer being pulled open and then shut.
“You—” Ming Ying looked down at what he held in his hand (you understand). His eyes widened, momentarily speechless.
Silas, as always, showed no change in expression. He curved his lips. “Ming, this was indeed specifically prepared for you.”
“…”
Ming Ying’s face instantly looked like it had been boiled in a pressure cooker.
“Heh.”
He really didn’t know what to say.
He could only offer up a mental note: As expected of an old pervert.
Silas led him back to the sofa.
As their eyes met, in a moment of intense passion, Ming Ying heard Silas say, “Do you still need the belt?”
“…”
Ming Ying felt he did that on purpose.
Creatures like old men were truly terrifying.
“Mm…” Ming Ying sniffed, struggling to maintain composure, and even managed a strained laugh. “No, I mean, teacher, you’re really willing to give it? It’s so expensive.”
He was talking nonsense, trying to change the subject.
Silas, however, had no expression. He narrowed his eyes, raised his hand, and inch by inch, caressed Ming Ying’s face.
His fingertips were still moist.
But Ming Ying felt the half of his face being touched was on fire.
“Can you not touch my face…”
“Why can’t I?”
“It’s so strange…”
“What’s strange about it?”
“It’s just strange.”
“Ming, touching is a form of expression.”
“Expressing what?”
“What do you think?”
“…”
Fine, fine, fine. A form of expression, was it?
So Student Ming Ying, imitating Mr. Aston’s manner, used his hand to caress Mr. Aston’s belt…
A clanking sound rang out, like the sound of a door to the heart being opened.
What happened next was something Student Ming Ying would never forget in his life—that thrilling sensation, as if his soul had left his body.
And along with that sensation, of course, was the pain pushed to its absolute limit.
…
Ming Ying had thought Silas was at most an old rogue, but he hadn’t expected him to be a composite of a pervert and a deviant.
Specifically, while they were messing around on the sofa, the phone beside them suddenly rang.
Ming Ying, his hands pinned behind his back, could only beg Silas. The latter picked it up, looked, and said, “It’s Thomas…”
“Hang up!”
But the next second, the man directly pressed the answer button and put it to Ming Ying’s ear.
Holy shit!
Ming Ying opened his mouth, his expression a painful, euphoric mix. He strained to suppress his voice, managing not to give Thomas a heart attack the first second he picked up…
