The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 12

The room grew quiet again, leaving only the faint crackle of sparks bursting in the charcoal brazier.

Liang Yu said nothing, only looked at him.

Su Qingyu clutched the fragrant balm box in his hand, lowered his eyes, and remained silent, his long eyelashes trembling incessantly.

“You’ve delivered your things,” Liang Yu spoke, his voice unhurried, “aren’t you leaving yet?”

Su Qingyu raised his head and met those eyes. They carried a hint of amusement, a hint of appraisal, as if looking at prey that had delivered itself to his door.

“Second Brother Liang,” Su Qingyu’s voice was soft, his face flushed completely red, “what you spoke of last time… the payment.”

Liang Yu raised an eyebrow: “What payment?”

Su Qingyu lowered his eyes, his eyelashes casting down, bit his lip, overcome with shame.

“The things Second Brother Liang gave,” Su Qingyu’s voice grew even lower, “the silver, the grain and firewood, the meat, the medicinal herbs, and this fragrant balm… we agreed that once I was well, you would collect the payment.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Liang Yu said nothing, only looked at him. That gaze suddenly deepened, darkened. Liang Yu bit his back molars, his throat moving slightly.

“You know what the payment is?” Liang Yu’s voice carried a hint of hoarseness.

Su Qingyu nodded.

Liang Yu stared at him for a moment, then suddenly let out a low laugh. He set down his wine cup, got up, and walked over.

Su Qingyu sat on the bench stool, watching those long legs draw closer and closer, finally stopping before him. Liang Yu looked down at him from above, his back to the light, his expression impossible to make out clearly.

“Stand up.”

Su Qingyu stood up, still clutching the fragrant balm box, unsure where to put it.

Liang Yu reached out and snatched the box away, casually tossing it onto the table with a thud. His other hand clamped around the back of his neck and pulled him forward.

The descending presence carried an oppressive force that brooked no evasion. Lips and tongue pressed in, hooking around his, tangling deeply and fiercely. Su Qingyu was kissed until he retreated half a step backward, his lower back striking the edge of the table, with nowhere further to retreat.

Liang Yu’s hand slid down from the back of his neck, and through the newly made cotton padded jacket, grasped that slender waist.

Su Qingyu tilted his head back, kissed until he could not catch his breath, small sounds escaping from his throat. A touch of vivid crimson seeped from the corner of his eye, his eyelashes damp, impossible to tell whether it was from that cup of wine earlier, or something else.

After who knew how long, Liang Yu finally released him.

Su Qingyu gasped for air, his lips swollen and red, glistening with moisture, unable to close for a moment. His whole body leaned against the edge of the table, his legs somewhat weak, both hands braced on the table behind him, his fingertips trembling slightly.

Liang Yu looked at his appearance, his gaze darkening terribly. The pad of his thumb rubbed across his swollen lower lip, pressing and grinding again and again.

“You can’t even take this much?” Liang Yu’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition, “we haven’t even officially started yet.”

Su Qingyu raised his eyes. Those beautiful eyes were veiled with a layer of mist, reflecting his face within. His eyelashes fluttered, and he turned his face away, his ears completely red.

Liang Yu stared at him for a moment, then suddenly bent down, one arm sweeping beneath his knees, and lifted him up horizontally.

Su Qingyu startled, instinctively wrapping his arms around his neck. Liang Yu’s embrace was burning hot, and even through the clothing one could feel the temperature beneath.

Liang Yu carried him toward the low couch, walking to the edge of the couch, setting him down, but not releasing him. Leaning down, he covered him beneath his body.

The cushions on the couch were thick and soft, carrying the warmth baked out by the charcoal fire. Su Qingyu lay there, his hair somewhat loosened, his wooden hairpin tilted to one side, his whole person like a pool of spring water melting in the snow.

Liang Yu looked at him, his gaze traveling from top to bottom, taking in the pretty young man completely. His Adam’s apple moved, his voice hoarse beyond belief, carrying deep desire.

“Have you thought this through? It’s still not too late to leave now.”

Su Qingyu said nothing, only looked at him, raised his hand, and lightly touched his face, actively placing a petal-like kiss upon it.

Liang Yu’s eyes darkened, and he bent down.

The charcoal brazier at the edge of the couch burned vigorously, sparks crackling and bursting, casting the room in a dim yellow glow.

When Liang Yu bent down, Su Qingyu closed his eyes. His eyelashes trembled, like startled butterfly wings, yet he remained obediently in place, offering himself up for the taking.

The kiss fell upon that red mole at the corner of his eye.

Su Qingyu trembled, his body burning terribly. Liang Yu’s lips moved away from the mole, and wet, hot kisses fell upon the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and finally upon his lips.

Rough breathing fell beside Su Qingyu’s ear, burning so hot that Su Qingyu could not help but tremble all over. This kiss was not as fierce as before, yet it was even more tormenting, as if intending to devour him piece by piece.

Su Qingyu was kissed until his whole body went soft. His hands had somehow climbed onto Liang Yu’s shoulders, his fair skin like fine porcelain.

The kiss fell upon his collarbone, light and gentle, yet Su Qingyu could not help but arch his body, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat.

Liang Yu could not restrain himself and bit into that expanse of white, his hoarse voice saying: “Don’t be afraid.” He lowered his head, and in the snowfield bloomed one red plum blossom after another.

The inner garment slipped from his shoulder, revealing the scene beneath. The undergarment hung precariously at the crook of his arm, crimson reflected against a field of snow, stunningly beautiful.

Liang Yu’s gaze fell there, dark and unfathomable.

Su Qingyu instinctively wanted to raise his hand to cover himself, but his hand was held down.

“Don’t cover.” Liang Yu’s voice was terribly hoarse, his hand pressing down with a force that brooked no refusal.

Su Qingyu stopped moving then, only turning his head away, closing his eyes, not daring to look, only feeling a pair of large hands covered in calluses roaming over his body, burning breath falling upon his chest, lingering and unwilling to leave.

“Open.”

Su Qingyu bit his lip and obediently opened himself.

…

Su Qingyu’s hands gripping his shoulder tightened, his fingertips digging into the flesh, yet his body was as soft as a pool of water.

“Liang… Second Brother Liang…”

Liang Yu raised his head and glanced at him, then with something nearly tender kissed his eyes. That delicate and beautiful face was flushed with crimson, full of infatuation, the corner of his eye glistening with tears, his pink tongue slightly protruding, yet with no struggling movements. He obediently held Liang Yu’s head, indulgent to the extreme.

“Call my name.” Liang Yu’s voice was hoarse.

Su Qingyu blinked, and a teardrop rolled down, sliding from the corner of his eye into his temple hair, and he softly called out: “Liang Yu…”

…

Su Qingyu’s hands gripped his shoulder tightly, biting his lower lip hard, swallowing back the whimpering sounds, yet the tears from the corners of his eyes could not stop rolling down. His fine panting sounds were soft and fluffy, like a kitten’s mewling.

The charcoal fire at the edge of the couch crackled, reflecting the entwined figures of the two. Outside the window, snow swirled and fell to the ground, while inside the room, spring was in full bloom.