[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 19 [H]

The night was starless, save for the rustle of wind through fallen leaves. The silence in the room fermented into a stifling heat. Without light, the senses were magnified in the darkness.

Even breathing grew louder.

Li Xuanci could feel it so clearly—the warmth of another human body, transmitted through the air, seeping into his very skin.

A dull ache shot up his spine, mingled with a maddening itch, as if seaweed had sprouted all over his body out of nowhere.

With every soft exhalation that brushed against him, the seaweed within him swayed with the gentle waves, uselessly stirring layer upon layer of unresolved desire.

It felt as though a steel needle had been driven into Li Xuanci’s temples—a piercing, grinding pain. The primal instincts still lingering in his body screamed at him to arch his lower body shamefully, savagely, like an animal; yet the pride etched deep into his bones fiercely held him back, refusing to let him succumb.

He was acutely aware of the humiliation of being teased by desire, just as he was aware of every slight shift—near or far—of that warm breath.

“Let go!” He clenched his jaw, forcing out a strange, hoarse sound from between his teeth.

The highly esteemed Prince Ding had never imagined a day like this—limbs bound, utterly immobilized, trails of blood glistening on his ni*ples, moist with the wetness of a tongue that had licked over them. His lower body was exposed, his member laid bare for someone’s amusement and pleasure.

A metallic clinking sound rang out as the delicate chains of the manacles struck each other, producing a chime like gold and jade. Suddenly echoing in the quiet room, it became a subtle urging, a prelude to passion rippling outward, leading to endless wild imaginings.

To trample dignity into the mud, to watch aloofness endure agony like fire—that had always been the most thrilling, the most blood-pumping.

“Don’t rush, I’m coming,” the person said with a hint of laughter, actually placing the gleaming blade beside his member, the tip lightly tracing the faint hair above it.

No matter how pure as snow or noble as jade Li Xuanci was, he could not remain indifferent with a sharp blade held against his most vital part. He stopped struggling and began to endure, the iron rings around his wrists trembling slightly from his clenched fists.

“Scared?” The voice carried a kind of blunt, fearless straightforwardness, asking just like that. Li Xuanci found it increasingly familiar, a name hovering on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn’t spit it out, fueling his hatred even more.

Fortunately, the dagger didn’t linger long. It only made a shallow cut through the hair before moving away.

But just that one touch—the bizarre sensation of cold metal against his most private skin—pushed the restlessness and gloom in Li Xuanci’s spine to its peak. The moment the blade moved away, he flew into a rage. The chains rattled loudly as he forcefully pulled his upper body halfway up.

But the person on top of him seemed utterly unconcerned, proceeding entirely at their own pace. The person turned and straddled his chest, pressing him back down with sheer force.

Then, something warm and soft, moist and infinitely hot, like a dragonfly skimming the water, lightly licked over the tip of his member, which had been hard for a long time.

Just that one touch sent a thread of electricity shooting up his tailbone, melting his very marrow. Li Xuanci’s stubbornly raised upper body collapsed back down, his spine dissolving into a formless heap.

Before he could even process it, that delicate tongue licked his c*ck again. This time it lingered longer, tracing a line over the swollen, crimson head, the tip of the tongue inadvertently dotting the slit that had begun to weep a bead of moisture.

A wave of piercing itch spread out, numbing his entire length until more translucent fluid seeped out. The person above him playfully lapped it away like a kitten sipping water, utterly oblivious to the torment it inflicted on Li Xuanci beneath them.

“Doesn’t taste bad, actually.” The little fiend sitting on his chest commented with a hint of naive innocence, then bent down again, their delicate tongue tracing slow circles around the rigid yet pliant shaft, diligently collecting all the seeping pre-c*m.

The tongue was soft; the c*ck was hard. Both were feverishly warm. With the overflowing fluids and the lapping motions, everything became a wet, sticky mess. Fine, glistening strands connected the upright, thrusting c*ck and the parted, moist red lips.

The person kept licking, causing the thin strands to break and reconnect, pulling taut left and right until one finally snapped against her lips, leaving a dewy, illicit sheen on her lower lip.

Lubricated by a man’s pre-c*m.

A single glance was enough to evoke overwhelming sensuality and palpitations. So improper, so outrageous, so lewd, yet so utterly captivating.

Unfortunately, Li Xuanci couldn’t see. A web of blood-red haze clouded his vision, obscuring everything. He swallowed back the sounds rising in his throat, refusing to let even a single moan escape, clamping his jaw shut against any gasp or pant.

The person above him seemed dissatisfied, perhaps because they no longer heard his sounds. They shifted slightly, and the soft, plump mound, padded by cotton cloth, came to rest just before his chin.

“If I help you, then you have to help me too.” Unlike Li Xuanci, this person seemed to feel no shame, stating it directly with either boldness or outright wantonness.