AD Chapter 44

Shen Du was carried into the bedroom by Qin Yi.

The mattress sank under their weight, and the two were pressed closely together.

Qin Yi had been stirred by Shen Du’s earlier words, his thoughts running wild, unable to wait any longer. He pinned Shen Du to the bed and kissed him deeply, not stopping until the boy was breathless, his entire body soft and pliant.

Propping himself up on one elbow beside Shen Du’s face, Qin Yi created a small distance between them. He gently caressed Shen Du’s cheek and neck. Shen Du’s eyes were moist, watching as Qin Yi pulled off his tie with one hand and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time.

It all felt like a slow-motion scene from a movie. The emotions surging in Qin Yi’s lowered gaze and the deliberate, seductive movements made every action unbearably tantalizing.

“…”

“Don’t be nervous,” Qin Yi said softly, his movements unhurried. “Let me tell you a story.”

Shen Du arched his back slightly. He was slender, with little flesh on his shoulders and back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I still suggest you listen.”

Seeing his reluctance, Qin Yi gave him a light slap, eliciting an indignant yelp from Shen Du, who turned his head away in embarrassment and muttered angrily, “Don’t hit me.”

Even his parents had never spanked him.

But Qin Yi seemed possessed, not only ignoring the protest but continuing with even greater ease. The orange in his hand was kneaded and squeezed repeatedly, almost ripe enough to drip juice.

“Listen to me, hmm?”

Raising an eyebrow, his actions and expression carried an inexplicable allure. Shen Du’s face flushed uncontrollably. He felt like a masochist. For a brief moment, he even thought it felt… good.

He must be losing his mind.

Mortified, Shen Du let his body sink lower, feeling dazed. Qin Yi seemed like a completely different person. Earlier, he had been full of affection, as if wanting to wrap Shen Du in a honey jar. Now, his expression was cold and domineering, his gaze so intense it felt as if he wanted to devour him whole.

Shen Du had often thought he might die in bed.

Gritting his teeth, he remained silent, as if whoever spoke first would lose. He hated the thought.

“…”

Qin Yi was like poison, insisting on telling a story even when Shen Du didn’t want to hear it, and forcing him to listen.

It was as if Shen Du were a child.

That was bad enough, but Qin Yi didn’t even tell the story properly—starting it and then leaving it unfinished, dragging things out, making Shen Du itch with curiosity. He wanted to know the rest but refused to ask.

Asking would be admitting defeat.

There were times to yield, but not today.

“…”

It was unclear how much time had passed.

The phone on the bedside table vibrated.

Moments later, Shen Du was completely spent, lying limp on the bed. He was practically melting into the mattress. Gentle kisses trailed across his shoulder blades, the curve of his back, and the hollow of his waist.

Qin Yi treated him like a treasure, kissing every inch of his body with care. He was incredibly patient, peeling the orange in his hand layer by layer. A delicate rose quietly bloomed, its petals softened and spread open, its core flushed red.

No, is this how the story is told?

He felt something was off.

So, he turned over, shifting from passive to active, looking down at him from above: “Boss Qin, I want this position. Alright, you can tell the story now.”

Qin Yi tightly held his waist, paused for a moment, then opened his mouth and said, “Alright.”

But what story was there to tell? It was nothing more than him seeing the moonlight tonight and feeling a little restless, wanting to hide someone away and embrace them.

Qin Yi performed an impromptu storytelling trick.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy who realized he was different from others.”

“He liked the same se-x.”

“He told the person he thought was the closest to him—his mother. But instead of helping him, his mother looked at him in fear and called him a madman.”

“His mother wanted to lock the little boy away. To shut him in a closed house, hidden from others.”

“Everyone thought that the little boy was crazy, including the boy himself. The boy hid alone in a corner, fantasizing about the outside world, fantasizing about freedom.”

The storyteller’s tone was calm, his expression ordinary, as if it had nothing to do with him.

Shen Du felt a bit heartbroken, his gaze trembling, and asked, “Is that you?”

“What?” Qin Yi replied.

“The little boy in the story, is that you?” Shen Du asked him.

“Yes and no.” Qin Yi laughed, his chest vibrating, touching his face. “Shen Du, I lied to you.”

“This is my usual trick, don’t you know?”

“So, how about it? After hearing this story, do you feel a little more sorry for me?”

“…”

Shen Du was half-convinced, unable to tell whether it was true or not from his usual tone.

“The story is good. This is a reward.” He placed his hand on Qin Yi’s lower abdomen, then lowered his head and kissed the tattoo on his chest.

A bright red flamingo, seemingly alive, representing a longing for freedom.

“…”

It was unclear how much time passed, but Shen Du’s hand moved back and touched the black rose tattoo.

“Who gave you this tattoo?” he asked.

Shen Du looked down at him from above, his eyes red and seductive, lifting his chin. “Has that person seen you like this now?”

“Has he touched you here?”

“Who have you touched?”

One question after another came from the boy’s red lips, his eyes full of possessiveness, so intense it almost blurred his vision.

“No one.” Qin Yi restrained himself, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, staring at him like a beast eyeing its prey.

“It was me.”

Qin Yi repeated, “Shen Du, I’m yours.”

Unknowingly, the dominant role had been taken by Qin Yi. He was thrown up like a ball, only to fall back down abruptly.

A gasp escaped.

“…”

“It’s called… The Devil’s Monologue. Do you like it?” Qin Yi’s eyes were filled with a passionate love only the two of them understood. “Do you like it? Do you like me?”

Shen Du lost himself, his shoulders slumping, his body trembling, making soft sounds. The boy’s voice was already pleasant, and now with a hint of sensuality, it stirred his blood.

Through the thick veil, he seemed to feel it—the overwhelming, intense emotions. They wrapped around him, blending like a painting.

In the dizzying whirlwind, Shen Du found himself sinking into the soft bed, his hands held above his head, hot breath spraying on his neck, hearing Qin Yi repeatedly call his name, softly speaking the language of the black rose.

“I am the devil, and I belong to you.”

This is the gift I gave to my lover when I was 18.

You will possess me all on your own.

…

In their mutual warmth, Qin Yi held him, basking in the afterglow.

The person in his arms had eyes that shone brightly.

Qin Yi brushed aside the hair from his forehead and kissed the corner of his lips. “What are you looking at? Aren’t you tired?”

“Brother.” Shen Du called him. Then he called, “Boss Qin.”

Qin Yi gently responded with an “Mm.”

Their noses brushed together, indulging in the warmth.

“Help me get a tattoo.” Shen Du lay against his chest, absentmindedly rubbing his left wrist, speaking softly, “I want to be connected to you; I’m not afraid of the pain.”

Shen Du had almost been compliant in bed tonight, just to say this one sentence.

He had been preparing for it all night.

Every look and gesture said, “I want it.”

Qin Yi’s eyelashes fluttered, and after a long pause, he hoarsely replied, “Alright.”

…

At three in the morning, Qin Yi held him and went to the studio after they finished their bath.

When he first started tattooing, he learned in this studio, and all the necessary tools were here.

Shen Du lay on the small bed in the studio, a pillow behind his waist, his upper body naked, the marks of their love clearly visible. Seeing that he only had the tools and nothing else, he asked, “Aren’t you going to check your phone?”

“It’s all engraved in my heart.” Qin Yi lifted the needle, gently touching the area just below his left collarbone through the glove. “How about here?”

Qin Yi, also only wearing a towel around his waist, had a muscular chest, water droplets still on his body, his muscles lightly tensed, like a lurking wild beast. Under the light, the flamingo seemed to come alive, its bright red color facing him.

Shen Du’s gaze shifted up, landing on Qin Yi’s handsome face. Feeling the other’s fingers silently caressing his chest, he felt a little itchy, wanting to move, but too tired. He just asked, “If you tattoo here, will it look good?”

Qin Yi’s voice was low: “It will look good.”

Shen Du nodded and softly replied, “Oh.”

“Then I’ll start.” Qin Yi leaned in and kissed his lips, nibbling on his lower lip, his tongue quickly brushing past his teeth. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll be gentle.”

Shen Du immediately laughed, “I don’t believe your lies.”

He had called for him to be gentler so many times, and each time Qin Yi agreed, only to be rougher.

Shen Du quickly concluded that Qin Yi’s words in bed could never be trusted.

Qin Yi prepared the tools and approached, speaking softly, “Shen Du, lift your head.”

Shen Du obediently lifted his head, but his gaze remained fixed on him.

The studio was large, but it was filled with things—various mechanical devices occupying the cabinets and bookshelves, resembling the scenes from the animated shows he watched as a child. The small bed was squeezed between all these items.

This was a style hard to find in a bustling city. Stepping into this room, Shen Du seemed to catch a glimpse of a side of Qin Yi that no one else knew about.

The overhead light shone on Qin Yi’s side, half of his face hidden in darkness. His arms and chest bore the scratches Shen Du had left, clearly signs of a passionate affair. Yet his expression remained calm and focused.

Just like when they first met.

A man nearing thirty indeed possessed enough charm, like a wine aged for years—each sip revealing a new flavor, full of surprises, leaving one eager to taste it again.

Perhaps it was because he had been in pain too many times tonight, or perhaps it was because he had used so much energy, but once he relaxed, drowsiness swept over his mind.

And so, Shen Du fell asleep.

When he woke up, the sky outside was a misty blue, making the indoor lights seem dim in comparison.

Shen Du opened his eyes and met Qin Yi’s quiet gaze.

What kind of gaze was that? Shen Du couldn’t describe it, because it contained so many emotions.

“Is it done?”

He didn’t know how long Qin Yi had been looking at him. Shen Du propped himself up with his arm, trying to get up, but his body was too tired. When he moved, he slid back down, only for Qin Yi to reach out and steady him.

Shen Du suddenly felt like he was recovering from a serious illness. He lowered his head and saw the butterfly tattoo freshly inked on his chest.

Just like when he first saw it, Shen Du liked it immensely.

He smiled, pressed his lips together, and said, “Qin Yi, now we’re the same.”

Qin Yi just looked at him without speaking, his hand holding Shen Du’s wrist, continuously caressing it. The next moment, Qin Yi suddenly lowered his head and gently placed a kiss near the still-bleeding wound.

His lips touched the thin skin, his voice hoarse, filled with many emotions.

He said, “Shen Du, I’ve caught you.”

Psyche, my soul’s lover.

The butterfly that couldn’t be caught before had finally flown into his hands.