Hug him and whisper in his ear: "well, say it again. I like you."

He Lin is obviously not satisfied, because there is still the second half of the sentence that has not been realized.

Yu Zhuo patted him on the back, "We'll talk about the rest when we go home."

They returned home holding hands, and when they stopped at the door, Yu Zhuo suddenly grabbed He Lin and scratched his palm, "Come to my house."

He Lin came out of the bathroom, and the steaming mist drifted out, creating an inexplicably charming atmosphere.

"Could you be a butterfly?" Yu Zhuo leaned against the door and asked.

He Lin had no expression on his face, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.

"Didn't you like that article?" Yu Zhuo said with a smile, "Didn't read it?"

Just as He Lin was about to say something, he saw Yu Zhuo's index finger hooking the collar of his clothes and pulling them down.

Exquisite and complex imprints are engraved under the graceful lines, and the contrast between black and white is strong and sharp, like a freehand painting, with an ink mark under the collarbone, and the rest is blank, and these blanks have to wait for his lover to fill them in .

That ink mark wrote a string of numbers.

43546.

The light in He Lin's eyes was dim, his Adam's apple rolled up and down, and he raised his hand to turn off the light.

"Don't be here." Yu Zhuo kissed the corner of He Lin's lips, "Go to bed."

In the dimly lit room, even the last ray of light disappeared due to the drawing of the curtains.

Yu Zhuo overflowed with broken sentences, and was forced to swallow them back under the kiss.His little red mole was still ostentatious in the dark, and He Lin could find its exact location almost without looking.He kissed the little red mole that was burning hot, then bowed his head and kissed their interlocking hands.

He uses kisses as fine brushwork, leaving metaphors that go deep into the soul.

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