EWH 26

They first did it once in the driver’s seat, then moved to the backseat for another round.

The backseat was spacious, and they ended up in doggy style. Yang Moshou moaned like a damn slut beneath Xu Wanhe, his voice soft and breathy, tugging at Xu Wanhe’s chest.

That sound pushed Xu Wanhe even further. After slamming into him hard a dozen times, a low grunt rumbled from his throat. He thrust in deep one last time and came inside.

About three to five seconds later, Xu Wanhe pulled out and stripped off the condom full of cum.

Yang Moshou lay sprawled across the backseat, too lazy to move, his chest rising and falling as he panted and watched Xu Wanhe.

He saw the man lowering his head to wipe the cum off his abs with some tissues. It was probably shot there earlier when he was riding him. His shirt had long been torn open, and a layer of sweat clung to those hard muscles, glistening like oil. Tempting as hell.

Xu Wanhe finished wiping down and just happened to meet Yang Moshou’s eyes.

His face was a little flushed, maybe still not sober.

His throat was hoarse from all that screaming earlier.

“I’m so hungry…”

Xu Wanhe’s hair was damp with sweat. He slid into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t I just feed you?”

Yang Moshou rolled onto his side. “Not that. I’m really hungry. I want to eat something…”

Xu Wanhe lit a cigarette. “Pick a place.”

Yang Moshou let out a sigh of relief. “Let’s go to my place. I’ll cook some rice noodles.”

Xu Wanhe turned the key and started the engine.

Cool air quickly blew from the AC vents. Yang Moshou lay there for a bit, started to feel chilly, then sat up and slowly put his clothes back on.

He was drenched in sweat. He wasn’t as drunk as before, but his mind was still sharp.

By the time he was fully dressed, they had already arrived at his place. Xu Wanhe drove the car right up to the building, turned off the engine, and switched off the lights.

Yang Moshou lit up inside. “You’re coming too?”

Xu Wanhe froze for a moment.

Truth was, turning off the engine and reaching for the door was nothing more than an unconscious reflex.

No matter what was going on in his head, his face stayed cold, brows drawn tight.

“None of your business.”

Yang Moshou cheerfully headed upstairs. “So do you want rice noodles in meat broth or veggie broth?”

Xu Wanhe followed behind with a cigarette in his mouth. “Not eating.”

Yang Moshou wasn’t that cheerful anymore. He opened the door. “Mine tastes really good.”

“Still not eating.”

Yang Moshou got a little annoyed. He stood by the door switching into house slippers, tossed a pair to Xu Wanhe too. “Fine. Don’t eat then.”

Then he made a beeline for the kitchen, pulled out his favorite ingredients from the fridge, and carefully cooked himself a steaming bowl of fragrant rice noodles.

The living room was dimly lit by a single lamp. The window was wide open, letting in the cool night breeze. It drifted in soft and fresh, making the whole place feel peaceful.

The rice noodles in the bowl were smooth and white, with a shiny slice of luncheon meat on top. Looked damn good.

But the thing that made Yang Moshou feel the most satisfied wasn’t the noodles. It was the man sitting on the couch smoking.

Tall, dark, and built, with a buzz cut and that smug-ass face. White pants paired with the black dog slippers Yang Moshou had bought. Damn, he looked good no matter how you stared.

Yang Moshou couldn’t take his eyes off him, mouth practically watering. He set the bowl down on the coffee table across from the couch, grabbed a small stool, and plopped down in front of Xu Wanhe, slurping away at his noodles.

Xu Wanhe was lost in thought about something. When he snapped out of it, he shot Yang Moshou a sideways glance.

“Can you eat a little quieter? Doesn’t your damn tongue get tired?”

Yang Moshou slurped carefully. “A real man makes noise when he eats noodles. Only women eat all quiet. Don’t tell me you eat without making a sound?”

Xu Wanhe looked annoyed. “You’re not noisy. You’re just fucking disgusting.”

Yang Moshou shook his head like he felt sorry for him. “So you’re one of those mouthy types too. What am I gonna do when you’re old and still yapping?”

Xu Wanhe crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “You trying to die? What the fuck’s it got to do with you whether I get old or not?”

Yang Moshou took a sip of the soup, a light sweat appearing on his forehead. “How is it not related? We know each other, that makes us friends. And I’m a doctor. If you get sick, you can come to me. When you’re old, knowing someone like me will be useful.”

Xu Wanhe thought about it. Fair enough. Knowing a doctor couldn’t hurt.

But after a second, it hit him.

“Fuck off. You’re a damn neurologist. Are you saying I’ll only need you when I get dementia?”

Yang Moshou had nearly finished eating. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m a neurologist, yeah, but I studied all kinds of stuff. I can treat headaches, fevers, diarrhea, vomiting…

Xu Wanhe snorted. “Like I don’t know how to take meds myself?”

Yang Moshou looked at him, his heart softening a little. “You’re pretty capable, huh.”

Then he remembered something. “Actually, besides being good at medicine, I’ve got other skills too.”

Xu Wanhe couldn’t be bothered to respond, so he stayed silent.

Yang Moshou kept eating and talking. “Like, I can cook.”

“Oh.”

Seeing that reaction, Yang Moshou kept going. “Don’t you think I’ve got fair skin?”

“Oh.”

Yang Moshou was about to give up. “Oh right, back in college I was part of the literature club. I used to write poems, especially fake love letters.”

“Oh?”

Hearing that, Yang Moshou’s eyes lit up.

“You got anyone you’re chasing? I’ll help you write a love letter.”

Xu Wanhe kept a stiff face and thought for a bit. His expression looked all kinds of awkward.

“Maybe I do… fuck… do you know how to write those rose-card things?”

Yang Moshou stared at him, gritting his teeth a little. “Alright. Who’s it for? Leave it to me. I guarantee you’ll get them for sure.”