LIAH 21. Applying Medicine

The application process was clumsy and slow. Pei Siyin lay on the couch with his eyes closed and soon drifted back to sleep.

Song Shengyang tugged his pants down to his knees and spread one cheek apart.

The entrance was red and swollen. The folds were slightly torn in places, and the skin on either side of his ass was covered in bite marks and hickeys.

Song Shengyang felt his body heat up. His Adam’s apple bobbed tightly in his throat. “Spread your legs. I can’t apply the medicine like this.”

Pei Siyin was already half-asleep and only vaguely registered the voice. His face buried in the lion plushie, he didn’t move at all.

Song Shengyang removed his pants completely. Then he sat down on the couch and pulled one of Pei Siyin’s legs onto his thigh. The other hung off the couch, toes just barely brushing the floor.

His fingertips coated with ointment, Song Shengyang first dabbed some onto the torn skin. But then he remembered the instructions on the label. His fingers paused mid-motion.

The instructions said the ointment needed to be applied inside.

Pei Siyin was fast asleep. Though his entrance was still faintly parted, it was too tight to even fit a single finger. Song Shengyang sighed to himself. After a moment of struggle, he forced down the heat rising in his body, knelt between Pei Siyin’s thighs, and slowly pushed a finger in.

The sensation of something entering was sharp. Pei Siyin’s back arched reflexively, his hole tightening around the intrusion. His bare ass tensed from the strain. Song Shengyang cupped it with one hand while sliding his finger in deeper with the other.

A low moan slipped from Pei Siyin’s mouth, his back quickly damp with sweat.

Song Shengyang pushed all the way in. The soft walls inside gripped him instantly. The sensation brought a rush of vivid memory. Everything from the night before rushing back.

He pressed the medicine in with his fingertip and slowly withdrew. His finger was glazed in moisture, a thin strand of it stretching out behind him. Under the sunlight, every detail was amplified. The liquid shimmered faintly across his skin.

The ointment had absorbed completely. Following the recommended dose, he scooped out a little more and rubbed it onto his fingertip again.

His finger pressed into the soft inner walls. The coolness of the ointment spread as he moved it in slow circles. Pei Siyin’s whole body tensed. Somewhere between sleep and waking, he opened his eyes, reached a hand behind himself, and caught Song Shengyang’s wrist.

“That feels weird… I don’t want any more.”

“How are you supposed to heal if I stop now?” Song Shengyang pulled his hand free and wiped it with a tissue. Then he lifted Pei Siyin into his lap. Their breaths mingled, warm and damp against each other.

“Just hold on a little longer. It’ll be over soon.”

Pei Siyin couldn’t move. His arms wrapped around Song Shengyang’s neck as sleep started to take over again. The sensation of being penetrated still lingered below. His waist gave out completely, and he sagged into Song Shengyang’s lap, practically sitting on his hand.

With his legs spread open like that, his hole parted into a visible slit. Song Shengyang’s finger moved in deeper. Even after the ointment had been applied, he didn’t pull out right away. The tight muscles clenched around him, and he began to pump in and out.

The wet, slick sound of movement below reached Pei Siyin’s ears. His most sensitive spot was being nudged over and over. He gripped Song Shengyang’s shirt at the shoulders and shook slightly, breath catching as he whispered, “Who the hell applies medicine like this…”

The movement of Song Shengyang’s fingers was gentle, nothing like the roughness from before. He held Pei Siyin’s waist and leaned back on the couch, turning his head to kiss his cheek.

“Almost done.”

His cock twitched against his belly, reacting to the touch on its own. But it had nothing left to give. The tip only oozed a faint strand of clear fluid.

The finger inside was coated in wetness. Even the spaces between Song Shengyang’s fingers grew sticky with it.

Pei Siyin rested against his shoulder, breathing softly. His voice was hoarse and damp with heat. The last bit of ointment was rubbed deep inside, and Song Shengyang finally stopped. He pulled his hand free, ending the task of applying the medicine.

Lying on the couch, Pei Siyin felt one of his legs being lifted. He moved the arm that was covering his eyes and saw Song Shengyang leaning over, gently wiping him down with a towel.

“Does it still hurt?” Song Shengyang asked.

Pei Siyin blinked slowly, then replied in a hoarse voice, “It’s fine.”

Song Shengyang pulled on his underwear for him, then massaged his tense calf muscles with careful fingers. When his fingertips dug into the sore muscles, Pei Siyin’s body finally relaxed. But the lingering numbness and swelling between his legs made it feel like something was still moving inside him.

He flexed his legs and said to Song Shengyang, “I need to get changed. I have class soon.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I can do it myself.”

Pei Siyin closed the bedroom door behind him. He stripped off his clothes until he was left in nothing but his underwear. Standing in front of the mirror on the back of the door, he froze the moment he caught a full view of himself.

From his neck to his collarbone, and down across his chest and stomach, he was covered in deep red marks. In disbelief, he turned to check his back and the insides of his thighs. Bruises, hickeys, and fingerprints were stamped everywhere, all raw and vividly visible.

He stepped closer to the mirror, lowered his head, and caught sight of his lips. They were swollen and red, and the corner had split open.

Pei Siyin let out a long sigh. Other than his eyes, there probably wasn’t a single part of him suitable to be seen in public.

Song Shengyang was waiting outside the door. After checking the time several times, he finally heard the door click open.

“…What the hell is this outfit?”

Pei Siyin was wearing a black windbreaker zipped up to his chin. A white face mask covered the rest of his face. Only his eyes and forehead were visible.

His short hair was neat, the fringe falling lightly over his brow. His eyes were slightly swollen from crying, and his pupils looked damp.

From Song Shengyang’s angle, the collar of the windbreaker didn’t sit perfectly flush with his neck. He could see a sliver of hickey hiding in the shadow between the folds. The way Pei Siyin tilted his head gave his throat a graceful curve. Song Shengyang swallowed hard, looked away, and muttered, “You didn’t hide much.”

“What?” Pei Siyin blinked, not hearing him. “Let’s go or I’ll be late.”

There were only ten minutes left until class. In the car, Pei Siyin was already fumbling with the seatbelt before it even came to a stop. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Song Shengyang leaned out the window. “Why so rushed?”

“I’m late,” Pei Siyin called back, swinging his backpack over one shoulder and limping off without turning around.

This is bad. So bad.

He had barely taken a few steps when his phone rang. Ji Zhen was already calling, urging him to hurry upstairs. The department’s most feared professor, Old Wang, had been spotted on the second floor.

“I’m done for,” Pei Siyin muttered, ignoring the sweat sticking to his back as he broke into a run. There was no way he was going to get slapped with one of Professor Wang’s infamous five-thousand-word reflection essays.

Back in the car, Song Shengyang watched him go, his expression darkening by the second.

How could someone change this fast after sleeping together? He didn’t even get a goodbye, let alone a kiss.

Heartless Pei Siyin. Took his body and tossed him like trash.