I Sealed the Demon Lord for a Hundred Years, Now He Wants His Jailer novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: The Key Is Yours

Wuhen took the chain down from its hook before the lanterns were lit.

It was heavier than he remembered.

It had weighed nothing on the ice, and it had weighed nothing on the bed, because he had been the one wearing it.

Now it lay across his palms, pale green, cold, with a cuff at either end.

Chenjue stood in the middle of the room in his shirtsleeves and watched him.

"You mean it," he said.

"I said tomorrow night."

"I thought you were joking."

"I never joke about work." Wuhen turned the right cuff in the lamplight. "Sit on the bed."

"Jailer..."

"You heard the Jailer."

For a moment the demon lord only looked at him.

Then he sat, slowly, on the edge of the great bed, with his big hands open on his knees.

He took something from his sleeve and held it out.

It was a small green key, no longer than a finger.

"I've had it since the lake," he said. "I never knew what I was keeping it for."

Wuhen took it.

It was warm from Chenjue's skin.

"The key is yours," Chenjue said. "Do whatever you like."

"I intend to."

"Wuhen," Chenjue said.

"Take off your shirt."

Chenjue took it off.

In the lamplight, broad and scarred and black-scaled at the forearms, he looked like something that ought to be on a temple wall.

He looked, Wuhen thought, a little afraid.

"Hands," Wuhen said.

Chenjue held out his wrists.

Wuhen closed the first cuff, and it clicked, and then the second.

He drew the chain up and threaded it through the carved headboard, the same bars, the same place, and pulled it taut.

Chenjue's arms went up over his head.

The muscle of his chest and his shoulders drew tight, and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

"Too tight?" Wuhen said sweetly.

"Obviously not."

"Good. Lie down."

Chenjue lay back on the black silk.

He was so big that the bed looked small under him, and Wuhen stood looking down at the whole length of him, bound, breathing hard, with the red eyes fixed on his face.

Heat rose in Wuhen's belly, bright and unfamiliar.

He had never held anything this large and dangerous in his hands.

It was a very good feeling.

He took off the white robe, and let it fall, and climbed onto the bed.

"You're staring," Chenjue said.

"I'm planning."

"Planning what?" Chenjue asked.

"It's a surprise."

He knelt astride Chenjue's thighs and set both hands on the broad chest.

The heart under his palm was racing.

"I've never," Chenjue said, low, and stopped.

Wuhen looked at him.

"Never what?"

"Been under anyone. Not once. Not in the sixty years."

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