AVRL 26

Yu Tingzhi thought Meng Chi’s question was utterly pointless, yet hearing it still made him happy. So he answered with action instead of words, cupping the back of Meng Chi’s head and kissing him.

The moment their lips and teeth touched, Yu Tingzhi’s scent came surging over Meng Chi. The explosive desire in his chest shattered Meng Chi’s reason, making him respond recklessly to Yu Tingzhi’s biting kisses.

Rough breathing echoed through the empty living room. The water glass was cast aside; the spilled water soaked both their hands, tracing over their burning skin, bringing a cool moisture that did nothing to quell the heat but only added to the restlessness.

Feeling those hands leaving marks on his skin, Meng Chi was so pleasured that his scalp went numb. He could only respond even more fiercely; even the pain of their teeth clashing together didn’t matter.

When he tasted blood, Meng Chi finally regained a sliver of clarity. He pulled back slightly and saw a trickle of blood slip from the corner of Yu Tingzhi’s mouth.

Yu Tingzhi stuck out the tip of his tongue to touch the wound and said with a faint smile, “Little puppy.”

Meng Chi narrowed his eyes, reversed their positions, pinned Yu Tingzhi against the edge of the sofa, and took the wound at the corner of his mouth into his own, sucking on it until the smell of alcohol in his mouth was completely replaced by the metallic sweetness.

From this kiss onward, events spiraled out of control.

When Meng Chi was flipped over and pinned against the edge of the sofa, his lower back and buttocks bruised and reddened from Yu Tingzhi’s kneading and pinching, he finally realized that Yu Tingzhi hadn’t asked him to stay so he could be the top.

And Meng Chi hadn’t stayed to be the bottom either.

“Teacher Yu,” Meng Chi raised his long leg, the sole of his foot lightly tracing upward along the bramble tattoo on Yu Tingzhi’s thigh, then pressing against his chest to push him back, “didn’t I say I’m the one on top?”

Yu Tingzhi grabbed his ankle and pulled hard, and Meng Chi ended up sitting on top of him.

He was indeed on top now.

Meng Chi let out a laugh of exasperation. He looked at Yu Tingzhi before him—at this usually refined and aloofly handsome man, now stripped bare of all pretense, revealing his most primal desires under the drug’s influence.

At this point, Meng Chi knew full well that tonight’s affair wasn’t going to end easily.

Perhaps driven by the alcohol, or lured by the beauty before him, Meng Chi temporarily set aside this point of contention. He leaned his upper body closer to Yu Tingzhi, palm cupping the back of his head, and whispered in his ear, “If you want to top me, then suck me off first.”

Everything that followed began to spiral completely out of control from that moment.

Kneeling by the sofa, Yu Tingzhi hooked his hands under Meng Chi’s knees, lifted him up, and tossed him onto the sofa. Then, out of nowhere, he produced a straw rope and wrapped it around Meng Chi’s wrists a couple of times, pinning them above his head. His movements were so practiced that Meng Chi had no time to react—within seconds, he was immobilized.

“What are you doing?” Meng Chi struggled.

Yu Tingzhi’s hands gripped Meng Chi’s waist, his right thumb rubbing the scar there. His movements were not exactly gentle, even a little urgent.

Just as he had imagined, his thumb could press exactly against that spot.

“Afraid you’ll run away,” Yu Tingzhi said, his voice low and hoarse. “If you did, I’d go crazy tonight.”

Meng Chi was speechless. He thought, aren’t you already crazy? And why are you going all forceful on me? Besides, he hadn’t said he was going to run.

Meng Chi was ticklish, especially on his waist. Being gripped there was terribly uncomfortable, and with the alcohol fully hitting him, he felt dizzy and lightheaded. One moment he felt like a fish on a chopping board, the next like a small boat battered by a storm, swaying with the waves and clinging to Yu Tingzhi as his only driftwood.

Yu Tingzhi, who had been holding back all along, now had little rationality left. Under the drug’s effect, his eyes were bloodshot, and even tears of physiological reaction had formed at the corners, shimmering with wet light. The red at the corners of his mouth and the red at the corners of his eyes blended like mist and sunset, making him look like a seductive demon capable of bewitching all beings. Occasionally, he let out harsh, ragged breaths—a state of utter失控 unlike anything before.

Meng Chi didn’t know how long had passed. His vision blurred under the influence of alcohol, yet he could still see Yu Tingzhi clearly—the taut line of his jaw, his thin lips pressed tightly together.

The blood seeping from the wound at the corner of his mouth made the usually cool Yu Tingzhi look both obscene and sexy. This demon-like appearance felt foreign to Meng Chi, yet also oddly familiar.

It was as if he had seen those deep, fiery eyes before.

Before he could think further, a blinding flash burst through his mind. For a few seconds, Meng Chi felt as though he were floating in the sky—but soon enough, he was pulled back down to earth.

One night of utter debauchery.

Meng Chi didn’t know when he had lost consciousness. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar scene, and the familiar oceanic scent filled his nose.

The light outside was blocked by heavy curtains, making the room dim, like an overcast afternoon before rain. Still, it was enough for Meng Chi to take in his surroundings.

It was a very spacious and empty bedroom. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only a row of pure white wooden wardrobes and a few cardboard boxes at the foot of the bed opposite him.

He was alone. Yu Tingzhi was nowhere to be seen.

Meng Chi tried to move, and immediately let out a sharp hiss at the aching pains all over his body. He felt as though he’d been run over by a car—sore and swollen all over, every movement bringing a tingling ache.

Meng Chi hadn’t drunk much this time, so he hadn’t blacked out. He remembered everything from last night clearly, except how he had ended up in this bedroom.

After all, in his memory, the main battleground of the night had been the living room and the kitchen. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was his parched throat and clamoring for water, and then Yu Tingzhi, holding his unsteady body, had stumbled with him from the living room to the kitchen’s wet bar to quench his thirst.

Meng Chi took a moment to gather himself, then raised his aching arm, turned the clock by the bedside to face him, and saw the time.

It was nearly eleven.

Beside the clock sat a crystal glass with half a cup of water. His throat was dry and uncomfortable, so he picked it up and took a sip.

The cool water soothed his throat, giving him a bit more strength. He dragged himself upright and then saw that his body was covered in large and small lingering red marks, from his neck all the way down to his abdomen.

Thinking back to all of Yu Tingzhi’s craziness last night, Meng Chi felt a pang of dental pain and cursed him as a beast under his breath.

He was completely naked, but there was no sticky feeling—Yu Tingzhi must have cleaned him up.

On second thought, the beast had been considerate afterward, which lessened his dissatisfaction by a fraction. What remained was mostly shock—shock at how good Yu Tingzhi’s physical condition was, that he’d still had the energy to clean him thoroughly and get him into bed.

Yu Tingzhi had indeed been thoughtful enough to leave him undergarments, though only a shirt and a pair of briefs.

The fabric of the briefs was very soft, but as Meng Chi pulled them on, the friction against his thighs and waist still made him wince in pain.

He gave himself a once-over. The worst marks were on those two areas: the bite marks on his thighs had bruised purple and broken the skin, and the skin on his waist had been rubbed raw by the soft whip wrapped around it through constant friction.

Thinking of that, Meng Chi felt like cursing again.

He truly hadn’t expected that a celestial, artist-like man could be so transformed by a little arousal drug, with not a trace of his usual refined, dignified demeanor left—only savagery, brutality, and reckless force.

The shirt carried the unique oceanic fragrance of Yu Tingzhi. It was a bit long on Meng Chi, just covering his backside. With no trousers, he could only step out of the bedroom wearing it like this.

The living room was still a complete mess, even worse than last night. The cardboard boxes were overturned or crushed, and their contents were scattered everywhere.

Meng Chi gave it a cursory glance, then, unable to bear the sight, went into the bathroom first to relieve his bloated bladder.

After bearing the discomfort of a quick wash, he returned to the living room, intending to find his clothes and leave. He couldn’t find his clothes, but he did find his phone on the coffee table, its screen cracked like a spiderweb. Whether it had run out of battery or been broken last night, it wouldn’t turn on.

Just taking those few steps left his legs aching terribly. Meng Chi sighed and collapsed onto the sofa. The skin on the back of his thighs brushed against a rough spot on the sofa’s surface, and a slight stinging sensation drew his attention. Looking down, he realized it was a mark he’d left last night.

He averted his gaze, but his peripheral vision caught a wooden handle sticking out from under the sofa. He reached out and pulled it out, revealing its full form.

A soft whip.

Meng Chi scanned the cardboard boxes in the living room. Spotting the wooden carvings, some props, and a guqin, he remembered some of the photographs he’d seen at the convention center. He realized that all these things were props She Shan had stored here for the exhibition. The soft whip in his hand was one of them.

He remembered that he’d grabbed this whip after breaking free from the straw rope last night—and he’d used it to whip Yu Tingzhi.

Though he hadn’t used much force, it had still left a red mark on Yu Tingzhi’s body.

Yu Tingzhi had been stunned by that lash, but he’d quickly perked up again.

Frightened, Meng Chi had gasped out a threat: “Don’t come any closer. If you do, don’t blame me for being rude!”

But Yu Tingzhi had already gone mad. He acted as if he hadn’t heard, showed no sign of retreat, grabbed Meng Chi’s ankle, and tried to pull him back.

Meng Chi whipped him again. Mid-swing, Yu Tingzhi caught it, yanked, and the whip was snatched from Meng Chi’s hand.

Holding the soft whip, Yu Tingzhi cracked it through the air, half-lidded eyes admiring Meng Chi’s appearance at that moment.

Meng Chi’s skin wasn’t particularly pale—it was a light wheat color—but it was sensitive and prone to marking.

Sometimes, vivid red didn’t need to be set against snow-white to stand out. Flowing subtly within darker tones, it carried an even more unspoken, suggestive allure.

“Meng Chi,” Yu Tingzhi said, looking at him, “do you know how tempting you look right now?”

Meng Chi didn’t know a damn thing. All he knew was that the drug that lowlife scumbag had procured probably wasn’t some simple knockout aphrodisiac—it was more like a stimulant that drove people mad.

Even now, recalling the glassy, dazed look in Yu Tingzhi’s eyes at that time sent a chill through Meng Chi. He idly flicked his wrist, and the soft whip snapped through the air with a sharp crack.

Yu Tingzhi was a complete pervert.

Meng Chi grumbled inwardly, but then remembered that he, too, had eventually given in to it—so he wasn’t much better.

Tsk. This was a bit of a mess.