Chapter 13: Kidnapped at the Same Time as My Boyfriend’s White Moonlight

◎I need to take a dump!◎

Lu Fei’s presence pressed down on him, radiating the scorching heat of a grown man.

Wen Tong’s pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively backed up two steps.

He pressed his lips tightly together and watched Lu Fei warily, cursing inwardly—even a stud boar doesn’t have as much filth in its head as you do!

He fought down the urge to spew profanity and ground out through clenched teeth, “Of course not.”

Lu Fei’s lips curved into a faint arc, and he drawled, “Obedient in bed, disobedient out of it, huh.”

Wen Tong’s back teeth clenched even harder.

Lu Fei smiled. “Forgot to tell you something.”

He stared straight into Wen Tong’s pitch-black eyes and said slowly, “When I said I like it when they fight back, I meant during sex.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

“Out of bed? Naturally, the well-behaved ones are better.”

Even someone as dense as Wen Tong finally caught on.

Nothing Lu Fei said could be trusted.

Everything he’d said in the car had probably been a joke—deliberately said to mess with him!

Wen Tong clenched his fists, so furious that his pale cheeks flushed with a faint pink.

Angry at Lu Fei for lying to him on purpose, and annoyed at himself for actually believing Lu Fei’s nonsense.

He’d been holding back this whole time—how many insults had he wasted?!

Lu Fei watched the shifts in his expression and, seeing that he understood, said, “Didn’t you say you’d be obedient?”

“Take it off.”

“Let me inspect the goods first.”

Wen Tong’s patience snapped. He tore into him: “Obedient my ass! Take off your head! Inspect my foot!”

“If you love stripping so much, strip yourself, you bastard!”

He jabbed a finger at Lu Fei’s nose, so enraged his words came out in a jumble: “What kind of good—what kind of man are you even… you’re not even a beast! Calling you a beast would mean apologizing to beasts! You psycho, you lunatic—”

He racked his brain, exhausting his entire vocabulary of insults, and felt he’d cursed Lu Fei out thoroughly enough.

Lu Fei didn’t feel a thing.

He’d been through far too much over the years; he was long used to far uglier words than these. Wen Tong’s “literary” little phrases didn’t even scratch him.

He even took genuine interest in watching Wen Tong curse him out.

Those beautiful eyes glared wide and round, glinting like polished lacquer. His pale cheeks had taken on a hint of color from the anger, making his whole face vivid and striking—so eye-catching it made a man’s heart itch unbearably.

Lu Fei’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.

Wen Tong cursed for a while, and seeing no reaction from Lu Fei, stopped to catch his breath.

Then he looked more closely—and the bastard wasn’t even angry. He actually looked like he was enjoying it.

???

What the hell was wrong with this psycho!

Wen Tong was on the verge of losing it from sheer fury.

A total loss—Lu Fei wasn’t angry at all, and he himself was half-dead with rage.

Lu Fei’s gaze drifted down to his mouth without meaning to, catching sight of the dewy red of his mouth, the faintly flushed tip of his tongue appearing and disappearing.

His eyes shifted, and he said slowly, “Done cursing?”

Wen Tong met his somewhat strange look and felt danger instinctively.

Lu Fei said, “If you’re done, isn’t it my turn?”

Wen Tong craned his neck. “Then curse me!”

That was what he said—but his eyes quietly slid toward the door behind Lu Fei, just in time to see Green Face tiptoe out, pulling the open door shut behind him.

“…”

Wen Tong dug his nails into his palm, heart pounding wildly.

Seeing that Lu Fei hadn’t spoken, he said, “Are you going to curse me or not? If not, I want water—I’m thirsty.”

At that, Lu Fei instinctively glanced toward the milk on the table.

Wen Tong seized the moment and bolted for the door.

The room wasn’t big. Two or three strides brought him to the doorway. He’d just grabbed the handle when the presence behind him closed in sharply.

Before he could open the door, he was slammed against it.

Lu Fei’s strength was far beyond anything he could fight. A single leg pinned him firmly to the door.

Lu Fei caught the back of his neck with one hand and said unhurriedly, “Trying to trick me.”

“Looks like you don’t want water after all.”

“Want to drink something else instead?”

Wen Tong’s mouth twitched. He snarled, “Drink my ass!”

Lu Fei chuckled softly. “Nothing good to drink there. How about big brother feeds you something else, treasure?”

Wen Tong was so furious his face burned red. He couldn’t out-argue him, couldn’t out-fight him—there was no justice in this world!

Lu Fei saw that even his ears had gone red, the pale delicate lobe looking like it might drip blood, and couldn’t resist pinching it.

Wen Tong’s whole body jolted. Goosebumps erupted down his spine, and he was so flustered his voice cracked: “Get off me!”

Lu Fei replied with interest, “Not getting off.”

He curled his fingers into the dark strands of hair by his hand and tugged, just slightly.

Wen Tong was forced to tilt his head back, his porcelain-white neck curving into a tempting arc.

The fine, soft black hair slipped through Lu Fei’s fingers, strands falling like willow fronds, brushing the back of his hand and stirring something not quite innocent.

Lu Fei’s voice came out slightly hoarse: “Not obedient anymore?”

Pinned so he couldn’t move an inch, Wen Tong panicked, afraid Lu Fei would actually go through with it. He had no choice but to play along: “Not obedient—fine, I’ll be disobedient, alright?”

“Well then,” Lu Fei’s lips curved up. He lowered his head to Wen Tong’s ear, his mouth covering that crimson lobe, and said viciously, “Disobedient is what gets me going.”

Wen Tong’s eyes went wide. “Fuck your—mmph.”

Before he could finish cursing, Lu Fei wrenched his face around, and pain flared on his lips.

Lu Fei kissed him.

The kiss was still rough and savage, like a mad dog, cupping his face hard and biting and kissing with force.

Wen Tong felt his face being squashed out of shape, tears welling up involuntarily, only faint sounds of resistance escaping his throat.

Those sounds were like oil on a fire, making the other’s kiss even fiercer.

Lu Fei kept his eyes open, not missing a single expression on Wen Tong’s face.

His brows were knit in discomfort, his clear eyes glazed with a film of mist, the corners damp and flushed red.

Wen Tong was kissed until his brain ran short of oxygen.

He didn’t know how long it went on—long enough that he felt white spots dancing before his eyes—before Lu Fei finally ended the kiss.

“Wen Tong.”

Hearing his name, Wen Tong turned his head dazedly.

Lu Fei looked at his blank gaze, his expression like someone kissed senseless, and his mind went blank with a buzz. He scooped the man up in his arms.

The world spun. Wen Tong’s muddled brain cleared a little, and he guessed what the other intended.

He kicked his feet, crying out in alarm, “I’m going to throw up—I’m going to be sick!”

At that, Lu Fei’s steps halted, and he turned toward the bathroom instead.

He kicked the door open and strode in, setting Wen Tong down on the sink counter.

The counter was large, and Wen Tong’s frame was slender—sitting on it, he had room to spare.

Lu Fei pressed both hands to his legs and spread them to either side, then stepped forward twice, his body flush against the counter’s edge.

Even through his clothes, Wen Tong could feel the man’s startling body heat.

Terrified, he shrank back, legs stiff, doing his utmost not to touch Lu Fei.

Lu Fei looked down at him from above, his narrow eyes dark and heavy, like a beast fixed on its prey—savagery laced with hunger.

Wen Tong’s scalp prickled under that stare. He was so frightened he stammered, “H-how am I supposed to throw up like this?”

Lu Fei’s brow arched. “Just throw up.”

Wen Tong braced his hands on the counter and shrank back, wishing he could disappear into the mirror.

His voice trembled as he tried to reason with Lu Fei: “Like this… where—where would I even throw up?”

Lu Fei simply held out his hand. “Throw up in my hand.”

Wen Tong: “…”

“Y-you, like this, I can’t throw up.”

Lu Fei of course knew Wen Tong was just making excuses to stall. He tugged at the corner of his mouth and said with deliberate malice, “Can’t throw up? Then let me help you.”

The words landed, and he reached toward Wen Tong’s face, pressing his index and middle fingers to his lips and prying his teeth apart without room for argument.

Just as promised—helping him vomit.

Wen Tong’s eyes flew wide. He instinctively raised his hands to block, but Lu Fei pinned his wrists again.

Calloused fingertips scraped against his palate, and tears spilled from his eyes at once, his lashes soaked and weighed down, drooping miserably—a pitiful sight indeed.

Wen Tong was so furious he opened his mouth to bite.

Lu Fei of course noticed. A split second before the bite landed, he withdrew his fingers.

The bathroom light was dim. The yellow glow fell on his glistening fingers, which carried the sweet warmth of the boy’s mouth.

Lu Fei rubbed his fingers together and said lightly, “Seems you don’t want to throw up after all.”

“Then no need.”

With that, he unhurriedly wiped his hand and unbuttoned his cuff.

Now Wen Tong was truly afraid. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the toilet beside them, and without a second thought he shouted at Lu Fei, “I need to take a dump!”

Lu Fei: “…”

Wen Tong barreled on, heedless: “My stomach hurts! I need to poop and fart!”

“And it’s diarrhea!”

Lu Fei was amused despite himself. His right hand seized Wen Tong’s waistband and yanked him forward hard. “Fine. I’ll undo them for you.”

“And watch you go.”

“If nothing comes out, then I’ll make you push out my sons and grandsons instead.”