The moonlight filtered through the paper window, pale and trembling as if afraid to intrude.
Hui Lian stood so close she could hear Zhong's breath mingle with her own, the hush between them stretched thin by years of self-restraint.
Her pulse throbbed beneath her skin, and yet, she did not retreat.
For once in her life of timid silences and careful distance, she stepped forward and lifted her lips to his.
The kiss was shy, but it bloomed with warmth that startled them both.
Her heart fluttered against his chest like a bird, too long caged.
"This… is my first time," she whispered, her voice trembling as her eyes met his.
Zhong's gaze softened, steady as the morning sun. "Then let me guide you," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile that made her forget how to breathe.
His fingers reached for the knot of her robe, moving with the care of a man unwrapping something sacred. The silk loosened, sighing as it fell from her shoulders.
Cold air brushed her bare skin, and she trembled, not fear, but from the strangeness of being seen.
Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, but Zhong gently took her hands, lowering them with a reverence that made her cheeks burn.
Her breath hitched when his palm brushed her skin.
For a moment, time bent in her mind. Hui Lian's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath.
He drew her near again, the scent of candle wax and faint herbal medicine clinging to them.
Hui Lian's robe slipped lower with the smallest movement, the faint lamplight brushing across her skin.
She hesitated, her hands twitching to hide herself again, but Zhong only looked at her, quietly.
She was not delicate in the way of porcelain figurines; she was soft, plump, and full.
The curve of her shoulders and the fullness of her figure carried the warmth of someone who had lived and given, who had endured more than she ever spoke of.
Zhong lifted his hand.
His eyes followed the line of her collarbone, the gentle slope downward, the way her breath deepened when she realized he was truly seeing her.
Her heart thudded like a distant drum.
"You're beautiful," he said softly, his voice just a breath above the silence.
Her lips parted, unsure whether to thank him or hide.
Instead, she laughed quietly, the sound trembling between nerves and disbelief. "No one ever said that to me," she admitted.
He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. "Then they were blind."
The words sank into her, and something in her posture changed; the tension in her shoulders eased.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her forehead against his chest.
In the hush that followed, Hui Lian rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm there, and for the first time, she didn't feel like she had to hide.
Zhong's hands moved slowly, reverently, as though each inch of her skin unveiled was a prayer answered.
He peeled the robe from her shoulders and let it fall in a whisper of silk to the floor, revealing the plush curve of her breasts, the gentle swell of her stomach, the hips that spoke of years lived.
But he didn't devour her with his gaze. His hands cupped and traced.
Then she stepped forward, her fingers finding the edge of his belt.
Slowly, almost afraid the moment might vanish if she moved too quickly; she undid it and parted the layers of his robes.
Her breath caught when his cock sprang free, heavy and thick, bobbing slightly in the cool air. It curved upward, veins pulsing with demand.
Hui Lian's lips parted in silent awe, her cheeks burning.
With trembling hands, she reached for him.
Her fingers barely closed around him, her palm brushing against the heat of his shaft.
Her eyes lifted to meet him, seeking permission, and all he did was nod.
Encouraged, she leaned down and placed the softest kiss just beneath the head.
Her lips lingered there, tasting the musk of his arousal, her breath warm against him.
"Ahh…" Zhong's breath spilled out in a low, surprised sigh.
She kissed again, higher this time, her lips brushing over the glistening tip, and then wrapped her hand around the base, stroking with a shy rhythm.
But as she opened her mouth to try and take him in, her lips stretched wide, her jaw trembling at the impossible thickness.
She struggled for a moment, tongue flicking over him in hesitation.
Before she drew back, the brow furrowed in frustration.
Zhong's hand caressed her hair. "Don't force it," he murmured, voice rough but tender. "There's other ways…"
And she understood.
She rose slowly, her robe forgotten on the floor, her bare skin glowing under the muted lamplight.
She turned and reached into the small chest tucked beneath the bed mat.
From it, she drew a small vial—simple glass sealed with oil; the faint scent of sandalwood and amber rising.
She poured a line of oil over her breasts, the warm liquid catching the light as it slid over her skin.
Her hands smoothed it over the generous swell of her bosom, slicking herself with slow, deliberate strokes.
Her nipples tightened in the cool air, her breath shallow as she walked back to him, kneeling before him again.
Zhong watched her, as she pressed her oiled breasts around his shaft.
"Mmm…"
The sound that escaped her lips surprised her, as his cock slid between the slick valley of her cleavage.
She pressed her arms inward, encasing him in softness, moving with a rhythmic stroke that made the tip of him peek through again and again.
He groaned when she leaned in and kissed just the head each time it emerged.
Her lips left small, wet kisses on him.
She stroked the base with one hand, her palm gliding easily with the help of the oil, while her breasts cradled him.
She looked up at him, lips parted, eyes wide and shining with wonder, and just a hint of pride.
His cock pulsed.
The warmth in her hands grew as his breath turned ragged, and suddenly his thighs tensed. A groan ripped from his chest, as he came—thick ropes spurting between her breasts, streaking her chest, her neck, even the tip of her chin.
She gasped, startled at first, then laughed breathlessly, sticky and flushed and smiling as she cupped his shaft one last time, gently milking out the last tremors.
She lingered there on her knees, watching his seed drip down the slopes of her chest, mixing with the sheen of oil already coating her skin.
Her breasts were full, pushed together as she cupped them, letting the mess settle between them. Sticky strands clung across the soft curves, catching in the light, painting her with evidence of his release
She tilted her chest forward a little, just enough to spread the weight and display it—shameless, almost curious about the image she made.
The cum glistened, beading along her skin in trails that slid slowly down to her plump belly
"I made a mess, didn't I?" she said, half-laughing, her voice low and breathless.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes hazy.
Zhong's cock twitched at the sight of her still kneeling like that.
And then she leaned forward again, her lips parting as she licks around his shaft.
Her tongue traced the base, then slid along the underside, cleaning the mess with small, affectionate licks. She kissed the tip once, then again, her mouth warm and wet, and ran her tongue around the ridge with a soft, pleased hum.
Her hand followed to wipe and soothe, massaging gently as if cherishing what he'd given her.
"You're…" he began, but the words caught in his throat. "A lot more than I thought."
She let his cock slip from her lips and sat back on her heels, her chest still sticky, her body flushed.
Zhong's eyes darkened as she knelt before him again, her voice so quiet, her gaze lifted with a softness that made his breath hitch.
"How was it, master?"
That word.
The way she said it, so sweet and eager.
Her dignity had been shed along with her robe, scattered like petals around her on the floor, and the sight of her, sticky with his seed, breasts still gleaming; hair tousled and cheeks flushed—was too much.
He didn't answer her with words.
Zhong stepped forward and placed his hand against her shoulder, firm, and guided her back.
She gasped, as her body lowered to the mat behind her, legs folding until he spread them with a possessive grip.
Her breath caught in her throat as her most private place was borne in full view.
The firelight caught the glistening wetness already spilling from her folds.
A thin trickle of arousal slipping down along her soft inner thigh.
Her pussy was clean-shaven, lips plush and full, the mound slightly raised, soaked and twitching with need.
It clenched faintly, involuntarily, as if it was aching for something to fill it.
The way it pulsed open and shut, how the swollen clit peeked out from beneath its hood, all of it betrayed just how ready she was.
At that unbearable edge, she squirmed, hips rising slightly off the floor, wordless pleas in the twitch of her muscles, in the way her cunt clenched open.
Her lips quivered.
Her voice was girlish and pleading.
"Doctor… please fuck me."