Chapter 89: This Venerable One’s Past Affair with You

When Mo Ran awoke, it was already bright, and the sun was high in

the sky. He rolled over and blinked—to his surprise, Chu Wanning was still

fast asleep.

Perhaps it was the effect of the Tapir Fragrance Dew, or perhaps it

was because of his poor health of late along with bouts of fitful sleep

troubled by dreams, that he was still deep in slumber even at this hour. His

back was turned to Mo Ran, and long, inky hair spilled loose across pillow

and bed, its strands the color of the night.

Mo Ran eyed him.

If the teacher hadn't yet risen, there was no reason for the student to be

particularly industrious. The bed was too comfortable; he might as well stay

in it a little longer. But just lying there was boring, so Mo Ran scooched

closer and began to play with Chu Wanning's hair.

Chu Wanning's hair always smelled faintly of flowers. Soft as smoke,

fine as mist; it was one of Mo Ran's favorite things to touch. He combed his

fingers through those misty strands. The feel of them, smooth as satin

wrapped around his fingers, made his insides tingle. A breeze swept through

the window, and the dark, patterned bed curtains drifted gently in its wake.

Mo Ran narrowed his eyes. Certain parts of him were especially

energetic in the morning, and with such a pleasant sensation at his fingertips,

one that was so familiar, so…

He lifted a lock of Chu Wanning's hair to his nose and inhaled. Those

long, soft strands called to mind scenes from the bygone past. Since his

rebirth, Mo Ran had tried his best not to think too much about the more

salacious portions of his history with Chu Wanning. But for some reason, this

morning, he felt like indulging in reminiscence. His throat felt a little dry. He

didn't want to touch Chu Wanning's body anymore, but his hair should be

fine. Mo Ran closed his eyes and pressed his lips lightly to the inky darkness

between his fingers. This inky darkness…

Back then, at Sisheng Peak's Wushan Palace, this same inky darkness

had fallen around Mo Ran like a curtain. He had held that man's slender

waist in his hands, the feeling of lean muscle beneath his fingers so different

from that of a woman.

Chu Wanning straddled Mo Ran's hips and worked himself up and

down. It must have hurt; his sharp brows were drawn tightly together, and

motes of light glistened in those phoenix eyes tinged a vivid red by ferocity

and despair. He was so resentful, so unwilling, yet so helplessly pitiful.

Exulting in his victory, Mo Ran made his demands, his voice steady

yet not without malice. "Faster."

No reply.

"Are you tired already? You're moving so slowly."

But even like this, Chu Wanning's ironclad will was firm, and he

refused to yield. He exhaled, hatred plain in his teary, red-rimmed eyes. Then

he bit down on his lip and began to move, fast and rough, almost as if

punishing himself.

It was agony.

He did it again and again. Even when his arched back began to

shudder and cold sweat drenched his body, still he didn't beg, didn't make a

sound. Through the long, inky locks obscuring Chu Wanning's vision, Mo

Ran's eyes were bright in the black of night, burning with animalistic desire,

madness, ecstasy, gratification.

"Ngh!" A stifled groan—it seemed the man on top of him could finally

withstand the pain no longer. Mo Ran's eyes darkened, and he sat up without

warning, wrapping his arms around Chu Wanning's trembling, sweat-soaked

body, which, for all his desperate endurance, was still wracked with the

faintest shivers. The change in position only sheathed Mo Ran deeper inside

him, until he felt his stomach might be pierced through.

That cruel, ruthless person caressed him, his touch tender yet laced

with venom. "Chu Wanning, did you ever think you'd end up like this, sitting

in my lap, taking my cock?" Mo Ran held him tightly, fucking slowly in and

out. He nuzzled Chu Wanning intimately, and a shudder ran through him.

"Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal… heh, in the end, you still had to

spread your legs and beg me to fuck you."

His hands wandered along Chu Wanning's waist, and he thrust in deep,

reveling in the feeling of Chu Wanning clenched tight around his cock. Mo

Ran was intoxicated; there were practically fireworks going off in his chest

—but he put up a front of calm indifference as he tormented and humiliated

the man astride him. "Didn't you call me lowly? Didn't you look down on

me? But Chu Wanning, now it's you who seeks my favor." He sank his teeth

viciously into Chu Wanning's jaw. "Look down, look at how you're sucking

me in, hm? Between the two of us, who's the more lowly here, my dear

shizun?"

Silent, shivering, Chu Wanning closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear

such filthy words. It was his first time…

It was with the person he had once liked, yet it was torture worse than

death.

"Open your eyes," came the callous order by his ear. "I still have Xue

Meng. You know what I'll do if you disobey."

He had no choice. Slowly, he opened eyes brimming with tears he

refused to let fall. The hand on his jaw forced him to look down at the sight

of himself taking his disciple's cock. The sound of flesh against flesh, the

stickiness of blood mixed with thick fluid—all of it was unbearably wanton.

"Up a little."

There was no strength in his legs, but he didn't want Mo Ran's help;

the last tattered piece of his dignity lifted his body by force of will alone.

The hardness inside him slid out until only the engorged head was pressed to

his entrance. Mo Ran wrapped his hand around his own length and thrust in

shallowly a few times, just enough for Chu Wanning to see himself breached.

Chu Wanning's lashes quivered—from pain, or humiliation, or arousal.

"You are such a slut," Mo Ran breathed. "If I'd known sooner,

I would've fucked you back when I was your disciple."

He was an uncultured scoundrel after all, with no manners or elegance

to speak of. Those vulgar words slipped into Chu Wanning's heart like a

blade. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and spoke for the first time that

night in a voice raspy and raw: "Mo Ran, just kill me."

The hand on his waist twitched imperceptibly. Then Mo Ran smiled,

sweet as ever, the bow of his mouth framed by a pair of charming dimples.

"Okay."

Chu Wanning's eyes flew open. In those tear-filled eyes that made his

blood boil with arousal, Mo Ran saw the reflection of his own twisted smile.

"If you want to die, I won't stop you. But you don't get to choose how.

I'll let a thousand people fuck you while your good little disciple Xue Meng

looks on. Actually, Xue Meng should join in too. How about that?"

"You—!"

His cruel words stung Chu Wanning like venom, and, like the scorpion,

Mo Ran watched his work with glee: watched the blood drain from Chu

Wanning's face, his lightly parted lips trembling despite his restraint. Mo Ran

suddenly felt a deep sense of satisfaction—colored with pity, but also with

delight and arousal. He pulled Chu Wanning back into his arms and buried

his cock deep inside, thrusting relentlessly into him at a pace unforgiving,

almost frenzied. "Ha, you're so gullible? You actually believed that?" He let

out a deep laugh and kissed Chu Wanning ravenously, his hands kneading and

stroking him as he said between heavy breaths, "Don't think too hard. I was

just messing with you."

Chu Wanning seemed about to fall to pieces with every thrust; more

than that, it was as if his soul itself had shattered.

"Just messing with you." Mo Ran's breaths came in harsh pants.

It wasn't enough—he pushed Chu Wanning to the floor and leaned over him,

bearing down heavily and lifting Chu Wanning's leg to thrust deeper as he

snapped his hips with abandon. "How could I bear to let anyone else touch

you like that…you're mine…only I get to…"

Pale, slender fingers scrabbled against the ground but found no

purchase. In the end, Chu Wanning was powerless; he could only let Mo Ran

do as he pleased until his consciousness began to fade, and the light in his

eyes grew dim.

Chu Wanning suddenly lifted his arm and covered his eyes. "Mo Ran,"

he said softly. "Mo Ran, if you still have any compassion in you…any

conscience…" His lashes shuddered against the back of his hand. "Please…

don't do this anymore… Mo Ran." His voice broke on a sob.

It was the first time in Mo Ran's past life that he saw Chu Wanning cry.

"Mo Ran, I can't take it anymore… It hurts…"

Chu Wanning rolled over, jolting Mo Ran out of his debauched reverie.

The past dissipated like a scattering of birds, leaving only his heart to pound

against his ribcage. The long strands between his fingers slipped away as the

person from his memories turned toward him, his face so close now that Mo

Ran could see each individual eyelash.

How beautiful, he thought.

Objectively speaking, Chu Wanning's looks weren't gentle or soft by

any measure. His features were handsome, sharp and intense as if cut by

blades, and in truth more masculine than average. But that only made him all

the more enticing. Mo Ran wanted to see this proud, unbending man come

undone beneath him. His heart beat faster and faster. He stared at Chu

Wanning's face, and his gaze drifted, inch by inch, until it came to rest on

those pale lips, lightly parted in sleep.

He leaned in unconsciously. A little closer and their lips would meet.

The sweet taste of dew. Mo Ran's throat worked as he swallowed; his mouth

felt dry. A little closer, just a little more…almost.

Suddenly, a flash of clarity shot through his arousal-addled mind. He

froze, face deathly pale. What was he doing?!

Mo Ran sat up swiftly and stared at the man on the bed. Chu Wanning,

Chu Wanning…no matter how many times he'd bedded him, that was all in

the past now! The fuck was he doing—had he lost his mind?! Was it possible

he really did like him?

Mo Ran blanched further at the thought, so unsettled he couldn't think

straight. He drew in a deep breath and buried his face in his hands, scrubbing

it roughly. Then, cursing under his breath, he pulled on his outer robe and

swept out of the room as if running away.