With the moon as their silent witness, Bai Tingfeng poured every ounce of longing into his touch.
He started at Shen Yuan's jaw, placing slow, deliberate kisses along flushed skin, then trailed to his neck, savoring every shiver his celestial fox spirit makes.
His lips drifted lower, brushing over collarbones and the delicate slope of shoulder blades.
His hands roamed with purpose. And that is to make his hardworking husband happy.
One palm slid down the curve of Shen Yuan's waist while the other anchored him close, fingers pressing into soft flesh.
He rubbed, groped, explored—steadying him whenever his knees threatened to buckle, teasing every spot he knew would unravel him.
And it worked.
Shen Yuan's breath stuttered. His limbs trembled. He couldn't tell if he was in heaven or hell.
A part of Shen Yuan cursed the sudden weakness in his body—yet another, deeper part whispers. He liked the way Bai Tingfeng touched him, like the way his strength leaves his body.
