Tao Zhi’s expression froze on his face as he silently opened his mouth.
So sudden.
Why was Fu Si Heng always so sudden?
The fingers Tao Zhi had placed on his shoulders slowly curled up. His eyes held not only surprise but also panic and bewilderment.
He felt utterly lost, unsure of what to do next. His body grew even stiffer than before, not daring to move an inch.
Tao Zhi now sat on Fu Si Heng’s lap, his slender white legs bent and resting on the sofa.
His clothes remained intact—at most, Fu Si Heng had bitten open two buttons, exposing half of his fair chest and rounded shoulder. Otherwise, nothing seemed amiss from the outside.
Fu Si Heng’s clothes were also pristine, neat and tidy.
Only on his suit pants, right where Tao Zhi sat above the knee, was a darkened wet spot.
But with Tao Zhi sitting there, it wasn’t too obvious.
At that moment, even if someone burst in and saw them like this, no one would suspect anything improper.
But the reality was far different.
Fu Si Heng pressed down on Tao Zhi’s waist, pinning him firmly to his lap.
“Does it hurt?” Fu Si Heng’s right hand shifted from Tao Zhi’s waist, gently stroking his back.
The rough fingers sent a shiver through him, and Tao Zhi finally seemed to snap back to awareness.
He stared blankly at Fu Si Heng, saying nothing.
It didn’t hurt.
Fu Si Heng had been patient enough, preparing him as much as possible before he sat down. The sudden motion hadn’t been reckless.
Tao Zhi wasn’t injured.
Yet he still felt terribly uncomfortable.
His belly bloated painfully, so much that he didn’t dare touch it to check what was happening. His clothes had grown even wetter—both his and Fu Si Heng’s.
Fu Si Heng’s suit pants were soaked from thigh to knee, the dark stains glaringly obvious.
It all stemmed from Fu Si Heng’s actions moments ago.
Just minutes earlier, he had endured one climax with Fu Si Heng’s fingers pressing and rubbing him into a screaming, tearful breakdown.
He could barely handle fingers.
Now Fu Si Heng had replaced them with something a hundred times more intense, thrusting in abruptly and grinding deep, amplifying the terror even further.
They hadn’t even truly begun, and he’d already climaxed twice.
Tao Zhi could almost call it a rare talent.
His mind blanked completely. Propped on Fu Si Heng’s shoulders, his wet lashes trembled at the sound of his voice.
Tao Zhi could only pant, speechless.
Then, as if on cue, Fu Si Heng shifted his knee.
“Don’t—”
A faint, tiny, trembling plea.
“Don’t move.” Tao Zhi gasped out.
Really, it couldn’t move anymore.
He was going to die.
For real.
Fu Si Heng: “…”
Fu Si Heng was suffering too.
His scalp tingled with frustrated need—not enough, yet too much. Two seconds later, he drew a deep breath and rasped out an “mm.”
Tao Zhi finally turned to glance back.
He mustered the courage at last. Though he saw nothing, he remembered it well, the image flashing vividly in his mind.
Before, he’d thought it too big, convinced he couldn’t handle it, fearful of the act itself. Yet Fu Si Heng had plunged in so unexpectedly—Tao Zhi hadn’t realized he could take it all.
Every inch, right to the hilt.
In this position, straddling Fu Si Heng.
So deep.
Deep enough to make his heart pound wildly, panic overwhelming him.
Tao Zhi panted, recovering slightly, and tried to stand.
His legs twitched with the motion, but Fu Si Heng spoke first: “Ready?”
Tao Zhi: “…”
Tao Zhi wanted to lie.
For the first time, he wanted to deceive.
He planned to say he wasn’t ready, urging Fu Si Heng to release him.
But before words formed, Fu Si Heng decided for himself.
He stood, cradling Tao Zhi—Tao Zhi yelped in shock, clinging to his neck and shouting the old man’s name: “Fu Si Heng!”
Fu Si Heng rasped an “mm”: “Let’s change positions.”
He loved Tao Zhi on his lap, but feared the strain in that pose.
He carried Tao Zhi to the bed.
Throughout, his arms cupped Tao Zhi’s buttocks, unwilling to release even for seconds.
Tao Zhi’s back brushed the soft sheets. He looked up instinctively. Fu Si Heng loomed over him, arms braced at his sides, shadow enveloping him. He panted with restraint, sweat beading on his forehead.
Tao Zhi froze.
The next instant, his pupils shrank.
Tao Zhi’s nails dug into Fu Si Heng’s tensed arm muscles. The bulging, intimidating curves yielded deep crescent marks and visible scratches on the wheat-toned skin.
The loose shirt draped over Tao Zhi finally came off midway, though the swimsuit stayed on.
Fu Si Heng flipped him over, tugging the swimsuit fabric aside once more.
He refused to remove it—just yanked the material out of the way if it hindered.
What kind of twisted fetish is this?
Tao Zhi lay prone on the bed, vowing never to wear a swimsuit again. His hands clenched the sheets tightly.
He adapted quickly, obediently yielding to Fu Si Heng’s every adjustment without resistance.
But even obedience had limits against insatiable demands.
Especially today—two climaxes before the main act. Exhausted… so sleepy.
Tao Zhi felt detached from his own body.
He was a lifeless puppet in Fu Si Heng’s hands.
Yet at the third crinkle of plastic, the little puppet broke. His lashes fluttered wildly; he opened his eyes and glanced back: “No more…”
“Hm?” Seconds later, Fu Si Heng leaned down again.
Tao Zhi’s fingers twisted the sheets: “…I have to go back to school.”
“I’ll drive you later.” Fu Si Heng’s palm covered his, fingers interlacing.
Tao Zhi muffled a groan.
He tried shifting aside, only for Fu Si Heng to yank him back ruthlessly.
“Last time.” Fu Si Heng murmured in his ear, hot breath tickling unbearably.
Tao Zhi’s grip tightened.
“I promise,” Fu Si Heng said.
–
When Tao Zhi woke again, it was nine at night.
He had no clue when he’d passed out. Everything before blurred away, mind empty save for the sticky discomfort everywhere.
So uncomfortable—wanted a bath.
Fu Si Heng had said he’d help soon.
Then… nothing.
First thing upon waking, Tao Zhi touched his legs.
The messy lower half from before was now clean and fresh, clad in soft cotton pajamas.
The afternoon’s chaos felt like a long dream.
In the quiet room, Tao Zhi opened his eyes, stared blankly at the ceiling for minutes, then turned his head—spotting Fu Si Heng’s phone on the pillow.
Face buried in the pillow, he nuzzled until alert, then reached for the phone.
Nine PM.
Ah???
Already nine?
So fast?!
He’d arrived around three!
Tao Zhi blanked for seconds, then bolted upright.
Fu Si Heng pushed the door open then.
He’d changed into black pajamas too, belt loosely tied, proudly displaying his chiseled chest.
Seeing Tao Zhi’s haste, he paused: “What’s up?”
“I need to get back to school.” Tao Zhi scrambled for shoes, dashing to the dressing room.
His clothes were still there—hustling now should make curfew.
Had to hurry.
Tao Zhi swung his legs off the bed—and buckled.
About to crash, Fu Si Heng scooped him into his arms.
He settled Tao Zhi sideways on his lap, grabbing honey water from the nightstand: “Your mouth’s dry. Drink.”
Tao Zhi obeyed, undeterred: “Change clothes.”
“No changing.” Fu Si Heng shut it down.
“?”
The blunt refusal stunned Tao Zhi; he tilted his head blankly, eyes pleading why.
“Too late for dorms now,” Fu Si Heng said.
“I’ll beg the dorm auntie.” Their building’s auntie was lenient—within curfew’s hour, she’d usually let him in with just some nagging.
Tao Zhi didn’t mind nagging.
He wriggled to rise, but Fu Si Heng held tighter.
“Baby, skipping one class won’t hurt. Rest up?” Fu Si Heng coaxed like a child. “You haven’t had dinner.”
“How about some porridge?” Fu Si Heng added.
Oh, right.
At the reminder, Tao Zhi’s stomach felt hollow.
He hesitated—a single second.
“No.” Didn’t want to miss class. Mornings were risky; he might oversleep.
Usually fine, but today? Fu Si Heng’s words worried him—what if he let him sleep in tomorrow? Dorm was safer.
But right after “no,” his stomach growled loudly.
Tao Zhi: “…”
So… embarrassing.
Tao Zhi buried deeper into Fu Si Heng’s chest.
“Told you you’re hungry,” Fu Si Heng said calmly.
Lunch was ages ago; afternoon’s exertions guaranteed starvation.
Fu Si Heng rose, cradling him.
Dinner first, at least.
He hated Tao Zhi leaving, but couldn’t stop him. If insistent, he’d tag along.
Hotel by school if needed.
Tonight, no separating.
Today mattered.
Fu Si Heng refused thirty-year-old bachelorhood.
Should hold his wife tonight.
No one would stop him.
He carried Tao Zhi toward the door—but Tao Zhi misunderstood.
Thinking school was off tonight, his heart sank. Chin on Fu Si Heng’s shoulder, he reached toward the dressing room, mourning a great loss.
Not for clothes.
But—
Fu Si Heng caught his faint whisper.
“My… scholarship.”
Fu Si Heng: “…”
Scholarship won’t miss one class either, right?
