Chapter 09#

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Song Zhiyan didn’t answer Zhou Yun.

He already knew the answer the moment he stepped off the Ferris wheel and saw Zhou Yan’s dark, stormy expression.

They still took a taxi back. The hotel room had been booked in advance—a two-bedroom suite. Whether it was the only room type available or Zhou Yan had done it on purpose, after Zhou Yun claimed one room, only one was left. The only other place to sleep was the sofa.

Song Zhiyan chose the bedroom without a second thought.

Because sleeping on the sofa would only get him killed faster.

Or he’d get ravaged on the sofa first, then dragged into the bedroom for who-knows-how-many more rounds—in which case he might as well just go straight to the bed and die a little more comfortably.

Song Zhiyan fiddled anxiously with his phone, thinking all of this, and only went to grab his clothes after Zhou Yan came out of the bathroom. After his shower, he spent some extra time cleaning himself out and stretching, afraid that Zhou Yan, in his fury, would skip the lube and just shove in, making it hurt like hell.

He still had to spend another day with Zhou Yun tomorrow. He couldn’t stop Zhou Yan from losing his temper, so he could only try to minimize his own suffering.

But he took so long that he didn’t even get his underwear on before Zhou Yan knocked impatiently on the door, asking if he’d passed out in there.

“Mmf, sorry.” Afraid Zhou Yan might do him right there in the bathroom, Song Zhiyan pulled on his sleep pants and ducked under Zhou Yan’s arm, scurrying back to the bedroom without stopping.

Sure enough, he’d barely reached the bed when he heard the door close, and then Zhou Yan reached out from behind and scooped him up, not letting him get on the bed. He carried him directly to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed him against it. Song Zhiyan’s sleep shirt was thin, and the icy glass made him shiver. Subconsciously, he leaned back into Zhou Yan’s scorching chest, trying to get as far from the window as possible.

“Afraid of heights?” Zhou Yan murmured against Song Zhiyan’s ear. As he spoke, he undid the buttons of his sleep shirt one by one, then ripped it off like a rag and tossed it to the floor, pressing him even harder against the glass. “That’s strange. If you were scared, how’d you have the nerve to kiss Zhou Yun?”

Song Zhiyan shuddered again. The chill that came with Zhou Yan’s presence made him tremble with fear, and he tried to turn his head away. “No… mm, we didn’t kiss. Zhou Yun was just—ah!”

A finger suddenly thrust into his hole, cutting off his explanation. It all turned into tearful, choked moans, quickly swallowed back down by Zhou Yan’s kiss.

“Song Zhiyan, how can you be so filthy, huh?” Zhou Yan sucked his tongue numb, and the finger buried inside him felt a wetness and looseness different from usual. He snarled his name viciously. “That fierce resistance the first time was fake, wasn’t it? Now you know to wash your ass clean and wait for me to fuck you? Can anyone who comes near you get a piece?”

The verbal humiliation and the relentless assault on his prostate made Song Zhiyan’s whole body flush and tremble. The soft thing between his legs stirred before long, and with each of Zhou Yan’s movements, it bumped against the glass, smearing transparent streaks across it.

Shame and pleasure pulled at Song Zhiyan’s sanity from both sides. His breathing was long gone, his heart pounding out of control. Between ragged gasps, he managed to say no, there was no kiss, he was just playing along with Zhou Yun for the act.

But Zhou Yan only laughed coldly. He tore off his bathrobe sash and bound Song Zhiyan’s hands behind his back, sneering, “What act? Trying to test whether I’d get jealous over a hole to relieve myself in?”

Without waiting for Song Zhiyan to react, he hoisted one of his legs up over his arm and slowly pushed his painfully hard cock into the entrance from behind, then slammed his hips forward, all the way to the hilt.

one 9 Four ⑤ one 伍ろ㈧ Nine ③

“Nngh—!”

Song Zhiyan’s head fell back with a muffled grunt. Even though he’d stretched himself beforehand, taking the entire length at once was still a tight, uncomfortable stretch. His bound hands struggled uselessly, searching for something to grab.

Mushroom finishing

But Zhou Yan gave him no time to adjust. He ground against the deepest spot for a moment, then pulled out and slammed back in, thrusting into that wet, tight, scorching passage over and over.

“Zhou… Zhou Yan…”

“Call me what?” Zhou Yan bit down on Song Zhiyan’s neck, his voice low.

“Mm, gege. Gege.” Song Zhiyan’s brow furrowed in pain. His fingers weakly curled into Zhou Yan’s bathrobe, tugging lightly, and tears were knocked out of him. “Softer… it hurts…”

Zhou Yan let go and licked the tender red bite mark, asking where it hurt. Just as Song Zhiyan was about to answer, Zhou Yan gave another hard thrust, turning his pleas into helpless, desperate moans—each one more seductive than the last.

Song Zhiyan didn’t last much longer. After Zhou Yan wrapped a hand around him and stroked a few times, he came. Thick, sticky white slowly slid down the glass, staining the still-brilliant night view outside.

“Like the view?” Zhou Yan savored the tight, rippling contractions of Song Zhiyan’s post-orgasm hole. He wasn’t moving as fast as before, just sinking shallowly into the warm, soft passage. “Better than the view from the Ferris wheel?”

tu。tu

Song Zhiyan leaned limply against Zhou Yan’s shoulder, one side of his face slick—impossible to tell if it was tears or sweat. After a moment, he turned his head and rubbed against Zhou Yan’s neck like a clingy cat.

He said he didn’t like the night view. It was too noisy. Could they not look at it?

It wasn’t a very convincing excuse.

A hotel room on the seventeenth floor with excellent soundproofing couldn’t hear any noise from the ground at all.

The kitten was just begging for mercy.

Begging without expecting a response, without wanting to resist.

Zhou Yan looked at the messy, miserable expression on Song Zhiyan’s face. He hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he carried him back to the bed. He untied Song Zhiyan’s hands and told him to kneel on all fours and lift his ass to take it.

Song Zhiyan didn’t really like this position. It pressed on his heart and made him uncomfortable.

But he also knew that a release tool had no right to make requests, and angering Zhou Yan at a time like this would only end worse for him. So he said nothing. He quietly grabbed a pillow and hugged it, lying face down, spreading his knees apart and kneeling, arching his lower back, exposing the soft, flesh-pink hole between his ass cheeks—still stretched open and not yet fully closed, twitching slightly and leaking fluid, waiting for Zhou Yan to enter.

“Fucking slut.” Zhou Yan slapped Song Zhiyan’s ass. Song Zhiyan flinched, but buried his face in the pillow without a sound. A faint red mark quickly bloomed on the pale, tender flesh. “What are you trembling for? Lift it higher.”

Song Zhiyan obeyed. He shuffled his knees forward half a step and arched his hips higher.

His wet, soft hole was stimulated by the cool air again, opening and closing as it dripped. Without needing any extra lube, it easily accepted Zhou Yan’s hard, burning cock, swallowing it completely in one go.

“Mm… Zhou… gege…”

Song Zhiyan was knocked forward with each thrust. Zhou Yan was too big, too deep—he could hit his most sensitive spot without even trying. The cock that had come once already perked up again, swaying between his legs with every slam, droplets of clear fluid flicked onto the pristine white sheets, leaving a trail of scattered marks.

By the third time he came, Song Zhiyan was getting hazy. His arms looped around Zhou Yan’s neck, his neatly trimmed nails scratching lightly at him, asking to be held. He said the light outside was too bright, asked to close the curtains.

Zhou Yan called him high-maintenance, fucking him while spanking his ass. Each slap made Song Zhiyan grunt and clench down hard, and the tightness felt so good that Zhou Yan finally deigned to pick him up and go pull the curtains shut.

When Zhou Yan finally came inside him, Song Zhiyan shuddered and came too—not much, a thin, watery spill that smeared across Zhou Yan’s abs before his eyes fluttered shut and he passed out from exhaustion.

Zhou Yan didn’t dare let Song Zhiyan sleep all night with a belly full of cum. After a moment to rest, he carried him to the bathroom to clean up, rinsing him out several times. Only after changing him into fresh clothes did he carry Song Zhiyan back to the bedroom, lay him down, and turn off the lights.

Normally, at home, after they were done, as long as Song Zhiyan was still awake, he’d shower and go back to his own room to sleep.

He talked endlessly about Song Zhiyan being filthy, called him nothing but a release tool, yet in the end, even just holding him to sleep had become a secret longing he couldn’t voice. He could only steal a night of warmth and peace through such underhanded means.

But Zhou Yan didn’t regret it.

If silent forbearance and devotion only earned him being ignored, then he’d rather be like this—possessing Song Zhiyan’s body, becoming a part of his life he couldn’t avoid.

Even if it was the wrong way.

Even if Song Zhiyan didn’t like him… or hated him.

As long as the person was by his side, that was enough.

Poor yanyan wuwuwu ( )