Sehir couldn't help but give a wry smile. Isri really went to great lengths to keep himself out of contact with the outside world.
In the morning, Islam left very early, as if he was already at ease leaving Ceshir at home.
At first, the house felt new and exciting, but after a few days, it lost its appeal, and the gate leading to the garden remained tightly closed.
The leaves on the trees outside had grown back, and as soon as Sehir opened the door, he saw a child squatting on the steps.
As soon as the boy saw Cecil come out, he quickly wiped the dirt off his hands and put on a smile.
"Brother, let's play together."
Before Sesil could even open his mouth to refuse, the child grabbed Sesil's hand and pulled him into the yard.
The sunlight overhead made his skin appear even whiter. The boy seemed a little dazed, grabbing leaves and stuffing them into his mouth. Seeing this, Cecil quickly grabbed the boy's hand.
"You can't eat this."
The boy looked at Cecil with a puzzled expression, grinning from his round face: "But brother, I'm hungry."
Sehir frowned slightly. The child, covered in mud, was staring at him expectantly, his clean, dark brown eyes glistening with tears.
"Then you wait here, I'll go get it."
Sehir is terrible at dealing with children, and now he's at a loss.
The boy looked bewildered, and it took him a while to understand what Cecil had said. He then grinned, his voice chuckling.
Sehir glanced at the sun overhead, turned around and went back into the room, went around to the kitchen, and grabbed some soft bread if he could find it.
The milk was placed on a high shelf, and it took Cecil a long time to reach it. He was afraid of taking too long, so he almost always ran when he went out.
"Brother!" As soon as he saw Cecil come out, the boy who was squatting on the ground quickly got up and rushed towards Cecil with his muddy hands.
Cecil paused, took a step back, and brought the food in his hand to the front. But just as he squatted down, the sound of a carriage suddenly rang out in front of him.
Sehir tried to get up, but the boy grabbed his clothes, revealing a large area of his collar.
"Brother, play with me!" The boy clung tightly to Cecil's clothes, not letting Cecil leave.
My heart was pounding against my brain like a hammer, and even breathing felt like my throat was choked with pain.
"Let me go!"
Sahir's voice trembled as he spoke, watching the person getting closer and closer. The next second, Sahir instinctively hid what he was holding behind his back.
But this didn't make the boy leave; instead, he became even more aggressive, climbing onto Sehir and reaching for the food behind him.
"Why did you come out, young master?"
Isri remained expressionless, his voice flat as if nothing had happened.
Sehir opened his mouth but couldn't speak. Isri stood before him, seemingly blocking out the sun overhead.
Isri glanced at the child clinging to Sehir, his eyes twitching slightly. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar, pulling him off Sehir.
"Young master, give me the things."
Isri stretched out his hand, and Sehir swallowed hard, instinctively handing the bread to Isri.
Having given up, Isri turned to leave, but seeing the boy wolfing down bread in Isri's arms, Ceshir suddenly spoke up instinctively.
?
A note from the author:
Saying my writing is awkward or immature is my own problem; I will learn and revise. But I don't understand why you would accuse me of plagiarism for no reason.
There's no need to plagiarize Black Butler. I'd rather write fanfiction. Since you're going to talk about color palettes, I don't mind. Just make it up quickly, and it'll be clear whether it's plagiarized or not.
It's over a hundred chapters, and so many people are reading it. Why hasn't anyone said anything negative? There's no need to be sarcastic and say I'm not good enough. I've been on the bestseller list before. This is my level, and I know it myself. I write for what I like. If you like it, read it; if not, just move on.
——
Thank you so much for your support after reading this far.
Chapter 102
“Isri!” Sehir stepped forward, his voice slightly hoarse from suppressing his emotions.
Isri stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Sehir. The child in his arms had already stuffed the whole piece of bread into his mouth, choking and tears welling up in his eyes.
Sehir's heart palpitations grew stronger, and he tried to meet Isri's gaze, his body frozen in place.
“I agree to your request. Let him go,” Cecil said, exhaling.
It seemed that because I said it out loud, the feeling of palpitation in my heart lessened considerably.
Isri raised an eyebrow slightly, tilted his head to look at Ceshir, and a smile unconsciously appeared at the corner of his lips: "What are your requests, young master?"
Sehir clenched his fists tightly, a hint of shyness flashing in his eyes. He turned his head away and said in a softer voice, "I promise you... I'll do it, and you'll let him go."
The person in front of him chuckled, put the boy back on the ground, and handed him a bottle of milk. Instantly, the boy stood there like he had seen a treasure, hugging the milk and grinning foolishly.
Isri walked up to Ceshir, squatted down, and twirled a strand of hair behind his ear around his fingertip. His expression softened, but his words were as cold as ice.
"Young master, wait for me to come back."
As he spoke, he turned around, picked the boy up again, and walked out. Ceshir watched Isri's back, his once calm heart now like a bottle of wine with its cork suddenly pulled out.
Blood rushes into the veins uncontrollably, pressing on the fragile nerves.
—
Even after returning to his room, the chill in his body did not lessen. Cecil looked out the window and recalled the boy's appearance earlier.
Would Islam really make the move? He wasn't 100% sure; that thought had formed in his mind almost instantly.
Promise Isri, this child will definitely survive.
Cecil looked down at the ring on his left middle finger, which was looser than before. The rose on it was glaringly obvious, as if mocking this incompetent nobleman.
Islam could already be seen from outside the window. Sehir shifted his body, reached out and pulled the curtains shut, blocking out all light. He also moved the warm lamp that had been placed by the bedside to another location.
He didn't want any light to shine on him; he didn't want to see himself looking so ugly and pathetic.
When Isri arrived in the room, Sehir was already sitting upright on the edge of the bed. Even though he knew Isri was back, he still couldn't help but tremble when he saw Sehir standing right in front of him.
"Young Master, are you sure?" Isri asked, glancing around the room.
Isri ultimately had his own agenda, and he gave the choice to Ceshir.
Because he knew that Sehir wasn't sure if he would touch the child, and on that basis, businessmen generally want to maximize their profits.
So… Isri reached out and lifted the lowered head slightly, revealing a pair of deep blue eyes fixed on him, and thin, pale pink lips that parted slightly.
"I'm sure."
In the darkness, desires were aroused to their fullest extent, but Isri remained unhurried, folding his tie and setting it aside. The more delicious something is, the more slowly one should savor it.
Sehir was like a lamb hanging to the slaughter, watching as the knife-wielder prepared to do his work.
Sehir closed his eyes and waited patiently. It was all set in stone, whether it was intentionally arranged or not.
"Young Master~" Isri's voice, with an upward lilt at the end, brushed past her ear. Then, his perpetually icy hands slipped under her legs and lifted Cesil up in his arms.
Sehir held his breath instantly, clutching his already crumpled clothes nervously. The breath coming from above his head was hot and frantic.
“Sethir… young master.”
Isri placed the person in the middle of the bed and pressed his body down. Instinctively, Ceshir raised his hand and placed it against Isri's chest.
It seemed that he had been preparing for a long time before Cecil moved his hand away and casually placed it beside his ear.
The prey thus willingly and nakedly exposes itself to the hunter.
Islam bent down, sniffed lightly, raised his hand and slipped it between Sehir's fingers, gently grasping it, their fingers intertwined.
Their breaths mingled, one filled with clear desire, the other with a calm that came after compromise.
Isri lowered his head and gently kissed the forehead. He could feel the person beneath him twitch his brow.
Then, the same kiss landed on the eyes, making the long eyelashes tremble twice in the air, then on the tip of the nose, and continued downwards.
Isri's every movement was extremely gentle. In the final step, Isri reached out and pinched Cesil's chin, and a gentle and long kiss once again invaded all of Cesil's brain nerves.
His narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed, and his slightly cool, thin lips touched her, like a piece of ice about to melt.
Cecil's lips were very soft, making it easy for people to fall for them. At first, her delicate little teeth were clenching tightly, but in the end, they gave in.
The warm, moist air instantly enveloped the two of them, and the sweet, cloying scent filled their nostrils. Isri lowered his head, greedily inhaling the little air that remained.
Within seconds, Cecil's breathing became hot, tiny beads of sweat appeared on the tip of his nose, and his lips parted slightly, which emboldened the person on top of him.
Isri opened her eyes and carefully examined the person beneath her. Her eyes were pure yet alluring, and a faint blush was beginning to appear on her porcelain-white cheeks.
He endured his intense, lustful love, telling himself over and over that it would soon be over.
My eyelashes were already unconsciously damp, and that invasive voice rang in my ears again, asking again and again without getting tired of it.
"Young Master, are you sure?"
Sesil stiffened his neck, staring intently at a dot on the ceiling, his crimson lips parted as if kissed.
"I'm sure."
-
In the dimly lit room, the two were intertwined, yet it seemed to be a one-sided dictatorship, with sweet, cloying sounds escaping from their mouths from time to time.
With a coquettish tone of resistance, she only provoked the other party to charge even more recklessly. The back of their interlocked hands were already scratched with blood.
But whenever it tries to break free, the active brain nerves suddenly calm down and constantly soothe it.
Several times, Sehir tried to open his mouth to tell Isri to stop, but in the end he bit his lip tightly and didn't make a sound.
I don't know how much time passed, but my consciousness began to drift away.
Finally, Sehir freed one hand and fumbled around on his head for a while before grabbing Isri's shirt collar.
Chapter 103
Sehir paused for a few seconds, then with a forceful pull, he dragged Isri down, their chests pressed tightly together, their movements clearly visible as they rose and fell.
Feeling the breathing of the person beneath him, Isri was clearly getting impatient, and the heat in his body was also making him feel uncomfortable.