"You tempt me shamelessly," Luo Binghe huffs. He doesn't want to go too fast and to hurt Shen Qingqiu, but with how responsive Shen Qingqiu is, how animated, it is getting difficult to ignore his own arousal—even rutting against Shen Qingqiu's thigh while he touches him is not enough.

Luo Binghe pulls back to look at him, captivated by the evidence of Shen Qingqiu's desire written across his face—his sweetly pink cheeks and bitten mouth, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. He thumbs the corner of Shen Qingqiu's mouth. He has forgotten to guard his heart against this man, or perhaps he's never had that ability at all. There is nothing held back now, no way for him to extract himself from the grip Shen Qingqiu has on him.

He has wanted this so badly. He has stopped trying to escape the mansion, stopped thinking of his wives, stopped caring about Claudius or Janet or whoever else might try to take over. He has cut everything else out and left himself naked and unprotected, just for the slim chance of having this. He has wagered everything on the hope that this will be better.

"If any part of you still does not want me," he says, "tell me now." It's a request for permission to enter Shen Qingqiu, but in saying it, Luo Binghe means far more than that.