Chapter 7 - Taking Liberties

That evening after climbing into bed, He Bing was still worried about where Liao Yucheng got hit. He leaned over to check his lower back. Liao Yucheng soaked up the attention, grinning. "I told you I'm fine. Are you really that worried about me?"

He Bing still felt guilty. "It's my fault for not paying attention. That's why you got slammed into the sink."

"Come on, it's not like you did it on purpose." Liao Yucheng threw an arm over He Bing's shoulder and pulled him down onto the bed. "Just go to sleep already."

The way Liao Yucheng's arm draped over him felt oddly like being held. He Bing shifted awkwardly, and for some reason his brain decided right then to replay the image of Liao Yucheng's naked body from earlier. He swallowed hard, turned off the lights, and rolled over to face away. "Let's sleep. I'll get you some medicine tomorrow."

Liao Yucheng smirked to himself in the darkness. "You know, when I was little and fell down, my grandma had this way of comforting me. She'd say that if she blew on where I got hurt and rubbed it, she could take half the pain away."

He was facing away from He Bing too. He scooted backward. "How about I share half my pain with you too?"

He Bing didn't get it. "Huh?"

But Liao Yucheng had already moved closer, their backs pressed together, waist to waist. Liao Yucheng arched slightly and rubbed his lower back against He Bing's a few times, voice teasing. "There. Gave you half."

The moment He Bing felt that movement, his body went stiff as a board, a strange sensation shooting up his spine. He stammered, "Th-that's not—that's superstition! It's not scientific!"

Liao Yucheng burst out laughing. "I don't know, feels like it worked. Doesn't hurt anymore now."

He Bing's face burned in the dark. He reached back to touch where they'd pressed together—it felt hot. He said in a muffled voice, "Sleep, sleep. I'm dead tired today."

Mission accomplished, Liao Yucheng stopped messing with him. "Sleep well. Good night."

He Bing scooted to the edge of the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, an inexplicable nervousness buzzing through him. He didn't bother analyzing it, just gave himself a stern talking-to: Tonight, behave yourself. Do not cuddle up to Liao Yucheng in your sleep.

Alas. When He Bing woke up the next morning, before he even opened his eyes, he could feel steady breathing against his neck and a warm, solid body in his arms. 

He didn't even need to look to know he'd done it again—no, wait. He Bing felt something distinctly off about his body. Disbelieving, he reached down to check, and the second he confirmed what he was feeling, his brain snapped wide awake. He bolted upright like someone shocked back from the dead.

Liao Yucheng got launched out of He Bing's arms and blinked awake, rubbing his eyes with an adorably confused look. "Mm?"

Feeling the situation intensifying below, He Bing leapt out of bed and rushed into the bathroom with a loud bang.

Left alone in bed, Liao Yucheng sleepy act vanished completely. "That fast? Way easier than I thought," he murmured to himself.

Once He Bing calmed down in the bathroom, confused set in. Why had he panicked just now? Because he woke up hard? No way, that was completely normal in the morning—nothing to freak out about. Because he was holding Liao Yucheng? Couldn't be that either—he'd been doing that all week without issue. He Bing thought through it carefully. Unless—he got hard because he was holding Liao Yucheng, and that's why he panicked?

The moment that thought appeared, it scared the crap out of him. He shook his head hard, trying to physically dislodge it from his brain. Impossible? They were both guys.

After getting up, He Bing washed up and headed out. He came back shortly with breakfast and a bag full of bruise stuff. Liao Yucheng eyed the haul. "Why'd you buy so much?"

He picked up a bottle of liniment and read the label. "This one says you need to massage it in. You gonna massage me?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't really know how, but I can probably rub it around well enough."

Liao Yucheng played with the bottle for a second, then looked up. "Help me apply it."

Without waiting for He Bing's response, he lay flat on the couch and hiked up his shirt, exposing his trim waist.

He Bing spotted the bruise—about half the size of a palm, not too dark. Probably not too serious. Liao Yucheng's skin was lighter than He Bing's, and the bruising made him look even paler and smoother by contrast. His spine curved beautifully down to his hips, leading to the tempting lines of his butt. His loose home shorts sat low on his waist, the wide waistband giving teasing glimpses of what was underneath.

He Bing's scalp prickled. He closed his eyes, opened them again, then slowly crouched down by the couch.

The liniment should be warmed in your hands first, but He Bing didn't think of that. He poured it straight onto the bruise. The cold liquid made goosebumps break out across Liao Yucheng's skin. He Bing placed both hands on his waist and started spreading the liniment around.

He'd never done this before, so he had no technique to speak of. The oil-slicked skin felt slippery and warm, somehow coaxing his hands to roam and move instinctively—more caressing than massaging, really. He couldn't help letting his hands drift, covering more territory. Part of him even wanted to push that shirt higher and tug those shorts lower, wanting to touch more bare skin.

Liao Yucheng had his face buried in his folded arms, letting out these soft little sounds as He Bing worked—from pain, or maybe pleasure. Neither spoke. The quiet living room was filled with purely physical sounds—skin sliding against skin, Liao Yucheng's low hums—all carrying an unmistakably erotic atmosphere.

He Bing's breathing got heavier without him noticing. And where he couldn't see, Liao Yucheng was fully hard.