Chapter 39: The White Bed

Shen Yan's old room was at the end of the upstairs hall, and it still smelled of lavender.

Mr. Shen had kept it exactly as it was.

There was a narrow white bed with a blue quilt and a shelf of school prizes.

The window looked out over the dark lawn.

The old secretary had put a bandage on Xiao Chen's thumb and gone downstairs, very tactful.

"We're staying," Shen Yan said. "Father asked. It's late, and he wanted to talk to you in the morning."

"In this bed?"

"It's a good bed."

"It's one metre wide."

"It's enough."

Shen Yan sat on the edge and pressed his palms to the quilt.

"I slept in it for five years, and I was dosed for all of them."

He said it lightly, and the bond underneath was not light at all.

Xiao Chen sat beside him.

"We can go home."

"I want to stay."

Shen Yan's voice was low.

"I want it to be a bed where something good happened."

Xiao Chen put his arm round him.

The scent came a moment later.

It rose sweet and sudden off Shen Yan's skin, orange blossom and salt, and his breath went short.

"Now?"

"Now." Shen Yan laughed shakily. "Of course now."

Below them, through the floor, came the faint scrape of a chair.

"That's his study," said Shen Yan. "Right under us."

"Then you will have to be quiet."

"I can't be quiet. I never could."

"You will try," said Xiao Chen, and kissed him.

They undressed in the dark, quickly, with their hands shaking.

Shen Yan's cock stood hard against his belly, wet at the tip.

Slick ran down the inside of his thigh before he had got his trousers off.

Xiao Chen laid him on his side, facing the wall, and drew the quilt over his shoulder.

"Turn round."

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