**Warning sexual content"
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently pulled the soft quilt over Deming, his arms stretching out to draw Deming close, cocooning him in a warm, protective embrace. Deming nestled deeper, sighing contentedly, a soft, sleepy sound.
"I'm going to tell you something," Deming whispered, his voice barely audibles against Guozhao Zhiqiang's chest, a delicate vulnerability. "But don't laugh at me, okay?"
"I won't," Guozhao Zhiqiang murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Deming's forehead, his voice filled with tenderness.
"I love sleeping in your arms," Deming confessed, his voice tinged with a delicate shyness. "And I've been thinking lately… how would I sleep if you went hunting with your brothers for weeks at a time? I'd miss you too much."
Guozhao Zhiqiang's lips brushed his temple, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I like it too, Deming," he replied, a tender smile in his voice. "I'll buy you a body pillow, a large one, so you can pretend it's me."
Deming shifted slightly, his thoughts drifting to a more serious topic. "Will your masters and Shimu approve of our relationship? Will they accept us?"
"They won't mind," Guozhao Zhiqiang assured him, his voice firm and confident. "I told my Shimu about you a long time ago. I didn't know it was you who wanted to leave with me back then; I thought it was him, Hu Dingxiang. But she understood."
Deming paused, a shadow crossing his face, a flicker of suspicion. "What did you talk about with Hu Dingxiang earlier? Tell me honestly."
"Only nonsense, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang dismissed, a slight edge to his tone, trying to brush it aside.
"Tell me honestly," Deming pressed, his voice suddenly sharp, demanding the truth. "Are you trying to avenge me? Is that why you confronted him?"
"No," Guozhao Zhiqiang stated, his voice firm, unwavering.
"He killed me! He locked me away in that dungeon!" Deming cried, his voice trembling with remembered rage, the pain of the past resurfacing.
"Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang pleaded softly, his embrace tightening, holding him closer, "can you forget it? Can you let it go?"
But the words ignited a furious spark in Deming. He broke free from Guozhao Zhiqiang's arms, sitting bolt upright, his eyes blazing. "You don't want to avenge me because, in your heart, you still have feelings for Hu Dingxiang! If you still love him, tell me honestly, Zhiqiang! Don't lie to me!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang reached for him, his voice filled with a desperate earnestness, trying to bridge the gap. "There's no benefit in taking revenge, Deming. It only consumes you. I choose to forgive those who have hurt me, because life is short. I'd rather spend it with those who care about me and love me, rather than seek revenge. I didn't seek revenge for you because I don't want to see Hu Dingxiang again, ever. He's not worth my time, or yours."
"Excuse!" Deming retorted, his anger still simmering, unconvinced.
Guozhao Zhiqiang pulled Deming back into a tight embrace, holding him close, his voice a gentle balm, a soothing whisper. "Forget it, my love. You have a new body, a new life. I'm fortunate to have you again; I don't want to lose you. If Snow Sector wants revenge for their disciple, let Snow Sector seek revenge for the death of their disciple. It's not our burden." He pressed a soft kiss to Deming's right cheek, a tender reassurance. "Also, I already told him: If he ever tries to hurt you, if he even touches a hair on your head, I will kill him, no matter what. That is my promise."
"Are you telling the truth, Zhiqiang?" Deming asked, a flicker of hope, a desperate need for certainty, in his eyes.
"I don't lie, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang promised, his voice unwavering.
"I know you don't lie," Deming admitted, his anger finally beginning to recede, replaced by a fragile peace.
"Please, just forget it, my love," Guozhao Zhiqiang whispered, stroking his hair.
Deming sighed, a long, weary release, the last vestiges of his anger dissipating. "Well, to be honest, I just want to live happily with you. That's all I truly desire." He reached out, wrapping his arms around Guozhao Zhiqiang's waist, burying his face against his chest, finding solace there. "Zhiqiang."
"Hmm…" Guozhao Zhiqiang murmured, his hand gently stroking Deming's hair, a comforting rhythm.
"I love you," Deming said softly, the three words a quiet, profound declaration, a heartfelt confession.
A sudden, overwhelming wave of happiness crashed over Guozhao Zhiqiang, his heart trembling uncontrollably, a sensation he had never known. From the very first day he'd met Deming until this moment, Deming had never uttered those three words. His entire life, as far back as he could remember, no one had ever told him they loved him. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and his voice, husky with emotion, whispered back, "I love you too, Deming. More than anything." He held Deming tighter, as if to absorb the words, to never let them go, to make them a part of his very being.
Guozhao Zhiqiang gently raised Deming's face, his gaze searching, tender, then he leaned in and kissed him deeply, passionately. His tongue found Deming's, twining in a slow, intoxicating dance, a dance of pure desire. With practiced hands, he untied Deming's robe, then slipped it from his shoulders, letting it fall away. He laid Deming gently onto the bed, then shed his own robe, eager to be skin to skin. Leaning down, he kissed Deming's lips again, his right hand moving to untie Deming's belt, his movements deliberate. He slowly lowered Deming's pants, then his hand closed around Deming's member, beginning a slow, deliberate stroke, building the pleasure.
This feels too good, Deming thought, his mind hazy with pleasure, a delicious warmth spreading through him. Guozho Zhiqiang should feel this good too. He reached out, untied Guozhao Zhiqiang's belt, and his own hand closed around Guozhao Zhiqiang's member. His breath hitched; it was truly huge, a formidable size. His fingers couldn't even span its width. A sudden, fleeting wonder: how did this giant iron rod fit the first time they made love? A flicker of unease, knowing its size, but then a wave of certainty: the first time, it fit with no difficulty. This time should be no exception.
Guozhao Zhiqiang then turned Deming onto his stomach, adjusting their positions. Deming turned his head to the right, his eyes meeting Guozhao Zhiqiang's, a silent invitation. Guozhao Zhiqiang reached his right hand under the pillow, then kissed Deming again, retrieving a small ceramic bottle of sunflower seed oil. He poured a generous amount onto Deming's buttock crack, and Deming shivered delicately, a pleasurable sensation.
Deming's lips were still locked with Guozhao Zhiqiang's, his breath coming in ragged pants, his body trembling with anticipation. "What is that?" he gasped, his voice muffled.
"Sunflower seed oil," Guozhao Zhiqiang murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing Deming's.
Their kiss deepened, becoming more aggressive, more urgent. Moments later, Deming felt Guozhao Zhiqiang's member slowly, exquisitely, crawl inch by inch into his backdoor. He knew the first time was always the most painful, a sharp, piercing sensation, but this time, the entry was surprisingly smooth, almost painless. Whatever Guozhao Zhiqiang had applied had worked its magic; there was no sting, no burning sensation, only a delicious fullness. He gasped for breath as Guozhao Zhiqiang's thrusts grew faster, more urgent, driving him deeper into pleasure.
The faster Guozhao Zhiqiang moved, the louder Deming's moans became, a symphony of pleasure. And the louder Deming moaned, the more energy surged through Guozhao Zhiqiang, driving his penetration deeper, faster, a primal rhythm.
Deming's voice grew dry and hoarse, his buttocks aching from the relentless force of Guozhao Zhiqiang's thrusts. He gasped heavily, "Zhiqiang, my butt hurts… change… position."
Guozhao Zhiqiang breathed heavily into Deming's ear. "It's impossible at the moment, my love," he rasped, continuing his powerful rhythm, nearing his climax. A few minutes later, he groaned, a deep, guttural sound, releasing himself deep inside Deming, a wave of pure sensation.
After they had rested, a comfortable silence settling around them, their bodies intertwined, Deming finally complained, a soft, tired voice. "Zhiqiang, get off me. You're too heavy."
Guozhao Zhiqiang kissed Deming's left temple, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You didn't complain just now, my love."
Deming blushed, burying his face against Guozhao Zhiqiang's shoulder, a playful embarrassment. "It's different now. I'm tired."
Guozhao Zhiqiang chuckled softly again, pulling him closer. "Let's take a bath, Deming. You'll feel better."
Deming shook his head, snuggling deeper into Guozhao Zhiqiang's warmth. "No, it's cold. I don't want to take a bath now. Just hold me."
"Do you mind the sweats, Deming?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice tender, concerned.
Deming shook his head once more. "No, I don't mind the sweats, Zhiqiang. Just hold me like this all night. Please."
"I'll hold you like this for the rest of my life, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang promised, his voice filled with an unwavering certainty, a profound love.
"I like that," Deming whispered, kissing Guozhao Zhiqiang's left cheek. "Good night, my love."
In the comforting darkness of the room, Guozhao Zhiqiang watched Deming's eyes flutter closed, his breathing evening out as he slowly drifted off to sleep, a peaceful, contented sigh escaping him. He listened to the soft rhythm of Deming's breaths, a peaceful lullaby. He kissed Deming's forehead one last time. "Have a good dream, my love," he murmured. Pulling Deming tighter into his arms, he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep, the gentle chirping of night crickets their only companions, a perfect end to their night.
Suddenly, Deming's eyes snapped open, wide with terror. Hovering above him was Huang Wei, his spectral face contorted with a sickening disgust, his eyes blazing with an unholy light.
Huang Wei floated closer, his spectral hand closing around Deming's neck, a chilling, suffocating grip. "Deming, you lied to me… You promised revenge! Give me back what I gave you!" he shrieked, his grip tightening, squeezing the breath from Deming's throat, a phantom pain. "Give me back what I gave you… my life, my body!" Huang Wei's twisted, mocking laughter echoed in Deming's ears, chilling him to the bone, driving him to madness. "Seek revenge, Deming, or your flesh will rot away! You will decay!"
Deming shot upright in bed and realized it was a nightmare His heart hammering against his ribs, gasping for air, his body drenched in cold sweat. He frantically touched his neck, but found nothing, no physical grip. His tongue flickered to his back teeth, swallowing hard, his mouth dry with terror. To his horror, his finger brushed against a loose tooth, which, to his utter surprise, suddenly fell out, a small, hard object in his mouth. He spat the small, white object into the palm of his hand. He stared at it, horror mounting, unable to comprehend what was happening, his dream bleeding into reality.
"Deming, what's wrong?" Guozhao Zhiqiang's voice cut through the terror, his eyes opening, sensing Deming's distress.
Deming hastily flung the fallen tooth away, his voice trembling, trying to hide his fear. "It's just a nightmare, Zhiqiang. Go back to sleep. I'm fine."