Chapter Twelve

While soaking in the hot spring, Boss You was exceptionally attentive. One moment he was kneading Yi Xiaoyu’s shoulders, the next he was massaging his legs. Yi Xiaoyu lay sprawled at the edge of the spring, chin pillowed on his arms, eyes closed, utterly absorbed in the pleasure.

“Does that feel good, Xiaoyu?” Boss You murmured, his hands gently pressing into Yi Xiaoyu’s upper back.

Yi Xiaoyu didn’t even open his eyes, mumbling, “Mmm, a little lower, rub my waist too.”

Boss You’s hands slid down a bit. “Like this?”

“Softer.”

“Is this better?”

“Mmm, just like that. Keep going.”

Soon, Boss You’s hands slipped beneath the water, alternately kneading and caressing Yi Xiaoyu’s hips. Yi Xiaoyu, lulled into drowsiness by the massage, didn’t protest, letting Boss You stoke the embers beneath him.

Yi Xiaoyu’s smooth back gleamed, his skin pale and fine, the lines of his body both striking and sensual—enough to leave Boss You parched with desire.

A tongue traced lightly over that flawless skin, the soft, humid touch sending an involuntary shiver through Yi Xiaoyu’s body.

At last, Boss You pressed his chest against Yi Xiaoyu’s back, draping himself over him like a bear.

Yi Xiaoyu frowned, still heavy with sleep. “Fatty, have you put on weight again?”

“No way,” Boss You nipped at Yi Xiaoyu’s ear, “I weighed in just yesterday—lost another six pounds this month. If I lose any more, I’ll have no sense of security left at all.” As he spoke, he pressed his hips against Yi Xiaoyu’s rear. “Would you want someone with no sense of security?”

“You’re overthinking it,” Yi Xiaoyu replied lazily. “I’ve never needed someone else to give me a sense of security.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Boss You felt a strange pang at those words—a flicker of disappointment and loss. He had always known Xiaoyu was strong and independent, never reliant on anyone, flourishing on his own. Yet now, some unconscious part of him desperately wished this man would lean on him, even a little—emotionally or financially.

Boss You gazed at the side of Yi Xiaoyu’s face, at those handsome contours that never failed to quicken his pulse.

And as he gazed, he suddenly lunged. Yi Xiaoyu was caught completely off guard.

“You damned fatty... ah!”

Yi Xiaoyu snapped awake in an instant, Boss You’s solid body pinning him so tightly to the edge he couldn’t even twist away.

“Did I hurt you?” Boss You asked anxiously, halting at once. “I zoned out for a second, I’m sorry.”

Yi Xiaoyu panted, “What’s gotten into you today?”

After a brief hesitation, Boss You pressed his lips to Yi Xiaoyu’s ear and whispered, “Xiaoyu, what do you like about me?”

He’d never asked before. The very thought seemed embarrassingly sentimental, but now, he longed to hear some affirmation from Yi Xiaoyu’s lips.

“Why ask all of a sudden?”

Boss You wrapped his arms around Yi Xiaoyu’s lean waist, resting his cheek against the nape of his neck. “Tell me first, or I’m not letting you go.”

“Fine, let me think.” Yi Xiaoyu actually pretended to ponder, then finally said, “I don’t know, honestly.”

Boss You felt a jolt in his chest, a sudden surge of unease. He pressed, “How can you not know? Think about it, Xiaoyu, really think.”

Sensing Boss You’s anxiety, Yi Xiaoyu found it amusing. “Fatty, have you soaked too long? Your brain’s gone fuzzy. You’re so talkative today.”

Boss You persisted. “Tell me, Xiaoyu. You agreed to marry me right after we met—wasn’t it love at first sight? There must be something about me that won you over. Tell me what it was, hmm? What is it?”

Yi Xiaoyu didn’t realize something had shifted in Boss You. He laughed, “Back then, you were this two-hundred-pound fatty bundled up in a down jacket, sitting there like a polar bear, surrounded by a bunch of shady little punks. You looked like a crude, thuggish brute. Love at first sight? Please, what could I possibly have seen in you?”

He meant nothing by it—just speaking the truth, and the memory of their first meeting still made him laugh.

Their love was like a beautiful joke.

The reason they married back then no longer mattered; what mattered was that this man would walk beside him all his life.

Yi Xiaoyu noticed Boss You had fallen silent. He tried to turn around, but before he could, Boss You suddenly pressed him down, entering him in one swift, fierce motion.

“Mm...”

The warm water dulled the pain, but the sheer violence of the act left Yi Xiaoyu overwhelmed. He was about to curse Boss You when Boss You gripped his waist and began to move, rough and relentless.

“You... stop... ah... fatty, you... ah...” You bastard! Ah...”

Two years of marriage, and only now did Yi Xiaoyu truly realize how strong Boss You was—he couldn’t even struggle, his upper body pinned against the ledge, forced to submit to the man behind him.

No matter how hard Yi Xiaoyu fought or shouted, Boss You didn’t relent.

“You bastard! Ah...”

Yi Xiaoyu could have killed him then and there.

Boss You bit his lip, silent and single-minded. Looking at the man beneath him—his own Yi Xiaoyu—his possessiveness only grew, his movements more savage, as if to prove something: that he, Boss You, was Yi Xiaoyu’s man.

Unlike any of their previous encounters, this fierce, almost aggressive possession made Yi Xiaoyu feel as if his back might snap in two.

For the first time since their marriage, Yi Xiaoyu felt the full force of Boss You’s violence. Though it wasn’t pain of the flesh, this near marital violation was something proud, unyielding Yi Xiaoyu could not accept.

What shocked him even more was that the man he’d lived with for two years would suddenly disregard his pain and resistance, forcing himself on him.

When Boss You finally released, whatever had been blocked inside seemed to clear. He continued to lie atop Yi Xiaoyu’s back, murmuring plaintively, “Xiaoyu...”

Yi Xiaoyu finally turned, and with all his strength, slapped Boss You’s face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The slap rang out. Boss You was stunned, clutching his stinging cheek, staring at Xiaoyu’s contorted features, fear finally dawning on him. He stammered, “I didn’t mean it, really, I don’t know what came over me...”

Before he could finish, Yi Xiaoyu slapped him again on the other cheek.

Now both sides of Boss You’s face were crimson. At last, he let his hands fall and leaned in, offering his face. “Go ahead, Xiaoyu. If it’ll help you vent, destroy my face if you must.”

Yi Xiaoyu raised his hand, but Boss You caught it, hurt and startled. “You really want to hit me, Xiaoyu?”

Yi Xiaoyu wrenched his hand free, his face thunderous, saying nothing as he wrapped a towel around himself and strode out of the spring.

He sat on a bench in the inner room, clutching his aching lower back, the pain in that unspeakable place nearly unbearable. All he could do was rest, trying to recover.

He still didn’t know why Boss You had treated him that way; not knowing why he’d been subjected to such torment left him feeling wronged and stifled, and, eventually, deeply disappointed in Boss You.

That damned fatty.

Damned fatty!

(Yawnbro: Boss You only dares to get rough like that in bed; any other time, no matter how out of control he gets, he’d never dare lay a finger on Xiaoyu.)