Chapter 12#
The Little Waste Tames the Sinister Demon King (12)
Before Ling Yan could respond, Mo Yan, with a familiarity that seemed instinctive, pressed his lips to his again. The massive serpent tail silently coiled tighter, pulling the man irresistibly into his embrace, the force tender yet impossible to escape.
“…”
Ling Yan slowly closed his eyes, accepting this deepening kiss.
He felt his whole body go weak, barely able to stand, relying entirely on the powerful serpent tail around his waist to keep him leaning against the other.
Mo Yan’s breath grew ragged, his chest rising and falling slightly.
His forked tongue gently licked Ling Yan’s reddened earlobe, his voice low and hoarse, carrying a hint of suppressed helplessness: “Yan Yan… it seems my breeding season has arrived.”
“?”
Ling Yan lounged lazily in his arms, momentarily startled, then replied unhurriedly, “Then let’s do it.”
“Do… what?”
“Make love.”
“…”
A surge of desire roiled in Mo Yan’s golden pupils. For the first time in ten thousand years, his cold body radiated a scorching heat, yet he still asked softly, “What is making love?”
“…”
Ling Yan let out a vague tsk, reached a hand beneath the water, and touched something, gently grasping it: “It means using this… got it?”
“No.”
Mo Yan refused without hesitation.
Ling Yan immediately pulled back from his arms, frowning slightly, a chilling murderous intent flashing through his tea-colored eyes: “Why? Do you despise me for being a man?”
His gaze seemed to say that if the other dared to answer yes, he would make him taste the bitter fruit of having his heart ripped out.
Mo Yan leaned back against the stone wall, the tips of his ears flushed with an almost imperceptible red. His voice was still low and hoarse but earnest: “What you speak of should be called ‘dual cultivation.’ Perhaps it’s a difference in terms between humans and demons. I do not despise you, but… you and I cannot do this.”
“…”
Oh.
He had almost forgotten that the other party was a ten-thousand-year-old virgin snake.
No wonder he was completely ignorant of matters between human men. Even ordinary carnal pleasures were probably only half-understood.
Ling Yan casually gathered his wet hair behind him, a lazy smile curling at the corner of his lips: “No matter. It can be done between men too. We can take… the dry path.”
“?”
Mo Yan frowned slightly, genuine confusion surfacing in his golden eyes.
“But we are in the water right now.”
“…”
Ling Yan let out a silent sigh.
It seemed there was always an invisible barrier between their communication.
He slowly swam closer to Mo Yan, relaxing his body into the other’s embrace, hooking his arms around his neck, his warm breath brushing against the other’s ear: “Forget it. Let’s just do it directly.”
“No.”
Mo Yan refused again, flatly and decisively.
Ling Yan felt a vein throb in his temple—at this moment, he was exactly like the impatient, offering himself image that Ling Xiao Qi had described.
“And why not?”
Fine, play by yourself. I’m done.
Thinking this, Ling Yan tried to break free from the snake tail and swim toward the pool’s edge, but the powerful tail still firmly wrapped around his waist, immobilizing him.
He cast an annoyed glare over his shoulder.
But Mo Yan stared back at him seriously, his tone grave: “Yan Yan, your mortal body is too fragile. If we dual cultivate, you will certainly be unable to withstand the demonic energy within me—”
He paused, his voice deepening: “You will explode.”
“…”
As if the image wasn’t vivid enough, he added, “Just like those little demons in the mountain stream… exploding.”
Ling Yan spread his hands, almost laughing in exasperation.
“Blame me for being a waste. Fine, let me go. I’m done bathing.”
The serpent tail didn’t loosen; instead, it coiled tighter.
Mo Yan gently swayed the tip of his tail, pulling the unresisting man back into his embrace.
He lowered his head, his voice low and gentle: “But there is still a way. I can find some spirit herbs capable of reforging your physical body. Once you take them, you should be able to withstand it.”
“…”
As if he was the one eager.
Ling Yan nodded casually, his tone indifferent: “Got it. Let go. I don’t want to bathe anymore.”
Seeing that the other didn’t seem truly angry, Mo Yan slowly loosened his tail. Ling Yan immediately rose from the water, unhurriedly stepping up the stairs to the poolside.
Mo Yan’s gaze lingered unabashedly on Ling Yan’s wet body as he continued in a low voice: “Most of those spirit herbs can be found in the demon realm. Only two grow in places of extreme yin and extreme heat, and they will be harder to find… It may take half a month to a month. Yan Yan, don’t be impatient.”
“…”
Ling Yan paused mid-step. Forget that he was still completely naked, he abruptly turned around to glare at Mo Yan in the pool, grinding his teeth as he enunciated each word.
“I’m not impatient.”
Before the words had even faded, he suddenly lifted his foot and kicked toward the other’s handsome face.
But the kick didn’t connect. Instead, his ankle was firmly caught by a slightly cool hand. The next second, he was pulled back into the water with a splash!
“Splash—”
A large spray of water erupted from the bath.
Ling Yan wiped the water from his face, only to hear Mo Yan laugh lowly, his voice carrying unmistakable delight.
“Yan Yan is such a tease… But you’re right, it’s not you who’s impatient. It’s me… who is more impatient.”
Having experienced his breeding season for the first time, Mo Yan felt his whole body burning with restlessness. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but there was an unfamiliar impulse flowing through his blood, unsettling his mind.
Ling Yan’s face still bore traces of displeasure as he frowned.
“I really wasn’t impatient.”
“Yes, yes, yes. It’s all my fault.”
Mo Yan’s voice was steeped in obvious fondness, the end of his words soft as if coaxing a child.
Ling Yan gently brushed aside the hand still resting on his waist, saying flatly,
“I’m done soaking. I’m getting out.”
Man and snake emerged from the water one after the other.
Ling Yan stood before the mirror, slowly drying his wet hair.
But Mo Yan silently approached from behind, bending slightly to press his nose into the crook of Ling Yan’s neck, inhaling the mingled scent of clean water and body heat: “Yan Yan… I want to steal another kiss.”
“No.”
This time, it was Ling Yan who refused bluntly.
Mo Yan tightened his arms, pulling the man even closer into his embrace, his brows furrowing slightly, his voice carrying confusion and grievance.
“Why?”
Ling Yan turned around, glancing down at his own loose robe, then up at the other’s, a teasing smile curling at the corner of his lips: “The more we kiss, the more uncomfortable it gets… Demon King, you’d better hold back for now.”
With that, he lightly slipped out of the embrace and walked to the side.
Mo Yan gazed at his retreating figure, thinking to himself: Tomorrow, I’ll go gather the spirit herbs.
The next morning.
Ling Yan woke from the bed. The space beside him was empty.
He pushed aside the curtains hanging by the bed, only to find the entire hall filled with woven baskets.
He stepped barefoot from the bed and approached. Inside the baskets were piles of hearts—some still faintly pulsing, fresh enough to make one’s own heart skip a beat.
He walked slowly to the table, where several plates of roasted hearts were neatly arranged. The aroma of cooked meat mingled faintly with the smell of blood.
Ling Xiao Qi chuckled softly in his mind: [Big brother, I heard that animals show affection by giving their beloved their favorite food.]
Ling Yan poked one of the roasted, fragrant hearts with a fingertip, a hint of resigned amusement in his tone.
“But eating this first thing in the morning… isn’t it a bit too greasy?”