Translated by Kaushika of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
“…it had only been a senior resembling Mingyue Qinghui. It has nothing to do with me anymore.” Ren Huan could no longer secretly hope, he had to face the harsh truth.
And who was that man anyways… he couldn’t hold it all in yesterday, but there was still a lot of semen flowing out today. His underwear was dirty and he couldn’t wear it any longer. Although his jeans were dirty, it wasn’t obvious, so he put them back on, along with his shirt. His gaze then moved to the neck hickey that couldn’t be hidden. He thought about a way to hide it for a while, without avail. At last, in desperation, he put on the man’s coat and raised its collar to cover the area, unsure if it was actually helpful to hide it from the eyes of passersby.
He still had some time left before having to return the hotel room card. He clenched his sleeve tightly summoning some strength, eyes teary, and entered a drug store.
When returning to his room, he made sure there was no one inside, and locked the door. Ren Huan knelt on the bed, leaning on the railing, and lowered his pants to give himself the medicine. His fingers, covered in ointment, squeezed into the fat and swollen hole with some difficulty.
“Hm…” Ren Huan buried his head in the quilt, of which the softness didn’t relieve the pain from behind him. Ren Huan rubbed his head against the cover to wipe off the sweat from his forehead, then dug some medicine into his flesh.
The mucous membrane was not only congested but also damaged. The man had only used saliva to eagerly open it up, and it had still not gone back into place. In addition, the sex had lasted for longer than Ren Huan could bear. After a night of rest, he glanced back at his buttocks, finding them in a miserable condition; fingers had rubbed a circle around them, although the inside was also hot and painful. Despite his efforts, his fingers couldn’t reach the deeper part of the area. Ren Huan anxiously paced around the room, and finally noticed a pen holder on the table. He reached out for the pen, covered it in the cloth, and moistened it with ointment. He then inserted it into his back little by little, a cold and slender presence. The pen body felt much better than his own fingers. Ren Huan held the end of the pen firmly and thrust its slender body repeatedly into his hole, feeling extremely ashamed with each thrust.