The mont Lin Mu stepped through the doors of their shared quarters, he didn't speak.
Xue Lan was seated on a velvet-cushioned bench beside the incense table, hair still damp from her bath, her robe barely tied. She looked peaceful. Beautiful. Used.
She looked like a woman everyone was talking about.
"You're late," she said sweetly.
"I was walking the long way ho."
She tilted her head. "To avoid the whispers?"
His silence was enough.
She smiled—just faintly. "What did they say?"
He moved slowly toward her, sitting on the edge of the cushion, but didn't look at her.
"One disciple joked that you sounded like a wild beast last night. Another said they heard you haven't tightened since you started fucking Jin Rui."
She chuckled under her breath. "That last one's probably true."
His face flushed.
"It's not funny."
She placed a hand on his thigh. "Then why are you hard?"
He shifted. It was true. He was. Again.
Humiliated. Burning. But hard.
"You're not proud of it," she said, voice lower. "But it turns you on."
He nodded, slowly. "I hate that it does."
"I don't," she said. "I love that you feel that way. I love that you're mine—but you get off knowing I'm being used. That the sect knows."
His head lowered.
"They're laughing at ."
"They're imagining ," she whispered. "Moaning. Gaping. Getting fucked senseless. And knowing you're the one who licks it up after."
He winced. But his cock throbbed beneath his robes.
"You don't wish they didn't know?" he asked.
She smiled wider now. "No. I want them to know. I want them to see glowing and wonder who ruined last night—and know it wasn't you."
He shuddered. Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.
And still, he grew harder.
Xue Lan reached into his robes without ceremony, cupping him.
"You're ashad," she said, stroking slowly. "And that's what makes it perfect."
His breath hitched.
"I don't want to stop," he whispered. "Even if it hurts."
She kissed his cheek, voice velvet in his ear.
"Then don't stop. Just kneel... and feel it."
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