Feudal Dregs - Chapter 51

Li Mingzheng's words were crude and explicit, his hands even more brazen. He toyed with the plump lips of Lan Yu's sex, pinching and kneading, parting them to tease the tiny clit. Lan Yu gasped, his entire body seemingly at Li Mingzheng's mercy, his ass clenched tight as he bit his lip, not daring to move.

That tender place had been ravaged by Li Yuzheng just the night before, still slightly swollen and sensitive. When Li Mingzheng's fingers slipped inside, the soft flesh clung to his knuckles, resisting yet yielding to his rough handling.

Lan Yu gripped the open window frame, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Through his dazed vision, the opera below reached its peak—the famed performer of Beijing sang of worldly desires, stirring the audience into thunderous applause and cheers.

Yet here he was, trapped in Li Mingzheng's arms, ensnared by vines of lust, shamelessly succumbing to arousal in full view of the crowd. His cunt grew wet, and when Li Mingzheng's fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot, Lan Yu whimpered, toes curling as he cried out, "Li Mingzheng... stop—!"

Li Mingzheng caressed the swollen entrance that had been used by another man, as if he could trace the marks of intrusion. Without any change in expression, he asked, "Little concubine, did Li Yuqing fuck you well?"

Lan Yu's ears burned with shame. He was too nervous—locking eyes with Hua Xiaoliang had thrown him into a panic of being discovered, his heart hanging in his throat. When he vaguely heard Li Mingzheng's question, his mind immediately flashed to that bastard Li Yuqing.

Li Yuqing had a violent temper and was far from a gentle lover, but the thing between his legs was monstrous, thick as a donkey's, and he was a seasoned player in the game of seduction. Unless he was deliberately tormenting Lan Yu, he could drive a man to the brink of ecstasy. The old master Li, though well-endowed, couldn't compare to the younger man in hardness or stamina. Regardless of anything else, one round with Li Yuqing was enough to satisfy the deepest cravings.

Lost in thought, Lan Yu didn't answer, but his body betrayed him—his entrance clenched tightly around Li Mingzheng's fingers, spasming as more slickness seeped out.

Li Mingzheng's eyes darkened. Suddenly, he slapped the wet folds and said coolly, "Slut."

Lan Yu shuddered. Though he couldn't see Li Mingzheng's face, he keenly sensed the man's possessiveness—something that seemed ingrained in his very bones. The irony almost made him laugh. Li Yuqing was jealous of Li Mingzheng, resentful over the anklet he had given Lan Yu, and now Li Mingzheng seemed to care about how Li Yuqing had treated him... It was as if he had become nothing more than an object of contention between the Li men.

Lan Yu narrowed his eyes slightly, panting as he murmured, "Li Yuqing may be a bastard, but—“ He let out a faint, teasing laugh. "He's not bad in bed. Just a bit rough... always hurts me."

Li Mingzheng paused, then abruptly pinched the soft, slick flesh between his fingers. Lan Yu gasped in pain, tilting his head back, his voice laced with a seductive edge. "And that thing of his is huge..." He licked his lips and asked, "You and your father—you're quite alike in that regard."

Li Mingzheng rubbed the small, sensitive bud between Lan Yu's legs, listening to him reminisce about his encounters with Li Yuqing. His own arousal was fully hardened, but he ignored it, instead idly toying with Lan Yu's clit. "Does the little concubine enjoy it that much?"

Pleasure surged violently. Lan Yu was too sensitive there—he couldn't withstand Li Mingzheng's relentless teasing. His clit felt like it was melting under the friction, his insides gushing with slickness, like an overripe peach crushed until its sticky juices spilled out. In moments, he came apart in Li Mingzheng's hands.

Faintly, Lan Yu could hear the opera below the stage—"I tore my monk's robe, buried the sutras, abandoned the wooden fish, cast aside the cymbals..."

Li Mingzheng's palm was drenched with Lan Yu's release. Trembling, his entire body reeked of lust, his limbs too weak to stand. The moment Li Mingzheng reached for him, Lan Yu collapsed into his arms. The opera below became nothing but white noise, drowned out by Lan Yu's ragged breaths.

Drip.

The slickness slipped through Li Mingzheng's fingers and hit the floor—a soft sound, yet it pierced his ears like a blade, striking straight into his heart. His blood boiled instantly.

Li Mingzheng didn't release that wet cunt, kneading it forcefully in his palm as his fingers plunged inside, wantonly violating until it dripped with juices. Lan Yu leaned against his chest, legs trembling and easily spread open—obedient like a child, yet more like a compliant whore. His entire body seemed molded by Li Mingzheng's hands, his cunt ruined and dripping wet, sucking greedily at the invading fingers as if both satisfied and insatiable, craving something larger. Soft, feline moans spilled from his throat.

Lan Yu came twice from Li Mingzheng's fingers before he regained his senses, finding himself straddling the man, his long robe wrinkled beyond recognition, the front loosened. Li Mingzheng dragged his slick fingers up to pinch Lan Yu's stiffened nipple. His fair skin made the flushed bud stand out, deceptively flat until touched, soft like a young girl's budding breasts.

Lan Yu instinctively hunched to hide himself, but the half-discarded robe trapped him, forcing his chest forward as if offering it for play. Li Mingzheng's mouth went dry as he flicked the nipple. "Little wife, were your tits always like this?"

Dazed, Lan Yu murmured, "...What?"

"Did my father break you in and knead them bigger after taking you," Li Mingzheng asked calmly, as if discussing nothing indecent, "or were they always this way?"

Lan Yu bit his lip, eyes reddening. Before the old master, his chest had been no different from any man's. But then it hardened, swelled—as if growing anew. Too ashamed to see a physician, he endured it, grateful the old man hadn't yet been bedridden, keeping him close every day.

Back then, aside from fucking his hole, the old master had loved playing with these newly swollen, flat breasts most.

Li Mingzheng mused, "If little wife got pregnant, wouldn't they grow even bigger? How would you hide them then? Bind them tight, wear a bellyband?"

Lan Yu's ears burned. These vulgar words, spoken in Li Mingzheng's composed tone, were unbearably arousing. His face remained stern, almost ascetic—were it not for the hard cock beneath, no one would guess his desire. Lan Yu rocked against the man's lap, fingers teasing Li Mingzheng's hair as he purred, "Then you'd better prove yourself worthy. Little wife likes you—who knows, our hearts might connect and plant a bastard—"

He paused, giggling. "No, not a bastard. Who's to say it wouldn't be the Li family's first legitimate heir?"

For a moment, Li Mingzheng truly pictured it—Lan Yu heavy with his child. He'd always been indifferent, viewing wives and heirs as dispensable. As the eldest grandson, his marriage would merely be a political match. He remained unwed by choice alone, else the old madam would have arranged it long ago.

But if Lan Yu bore his child...?

Li Mingzheng thought seriously for a few seconds and realized he wasn't the least bit repulsed by the idea. In fact, he rather liked the thought of Lan Yu with a swollen belly, bearing his children.

Li Mingzheng raised his eyes and stared at Lan Yu for a long moment before gripping the back of his neck and forcing him to kneel before him. "Open your mouth," he ordered.

As the opera performance outside came to an end, Tong Ping's voice sounded at the door. "Master, Hua Xiaoliang requests an audience."

Li Mingzheng leaned back in his chair, eyes slightly narrowed, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, its pale smoke curling upward. Startled by the voice, Lan Yu flinched, struggling to keep the thick length in his mouth without choking. Li Mingzheng stroked his head, glancing down to see Lan Yu looking up at him with tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes. His lips, flushed and parted, hollowed his cheeks as he worked diligently with tongue and mouth. It was clear Lan Yu had been well-trained—his tongue flicked against the slit, licked along the head, then wrapped around the shaft while his hands cupped the heavy sac, sucking in a practiced rhythm.

Li Mingzheng took a slow drag of his cigarette before speaking in a low, rough voice, "Let him speak from outside."

Beyond the door, Hua Xiaoliang paused in surprise. He hadn't even removed his stage makeup—Li Mingzheng had always preferred seeing him in full costume. Though Hua Xiaoliang was a star, in the turbulent times of Beijing, he was little more than a gilded songbird. A bird needed a perch, and Li Mingzheng was the towering tree that offered shelter from the storm.

In the past, whenever Li Mingzheng came to the opera house, Hua Xiaoliang would request an audience, and Li Mingzheng would always grant it. They had slept together, but Li Mingzheng had no particularly cruel tastes in bed, so Hua Xiaoliang had grown rather fond of him.

Now, staring at the firmly shut door, Hua Xiaoliang recalled the face he had glimpsed from the stage earlier and snapped back to attention. Softly, he said, "Master Li, I came to thank you for your patronage tonight."

Inside, Li Mingzheng remained silent, his gaze fixed on Lan Yu. The man couldn't take the full length, but Li Mingzheng didn't mind. He hooked a finger under Lan Yu's chin, his palm brushing against the sweat-dampened cheek.

Lan Yu's vision blurred—whether from tears or sweat, he couldn't tell. His mouth was stuffed full, the intrusion pressing deep enough to make his throat clench. Outside, the celebrated opera star now stood pitifully begging for attention. Lan Yu couldn't quite name the emotion stirring in his chest, but it tasted bitter.

When no response came, Hua Xiaoliang hesitated before speaking again. "I've been rehearsing a new play recently, with some fresh elements. I was hoping you might offer your thoughts."

Li Mingzheng's fingers twitched. Lan Yu seemed to consider something, then lifted his gaze, releasing the thick shaft with a wet pop. His lips moved soundlessly, forming the words, Don't go.

Li Mingzheng arched a brow. Lan Yu gripped the hardened length, teeth grazing lightly—like a possessive cat guarding its meal. The display inexplicably pleased Li Mingzheng. He rubbed the slick tip against Lan Yu's cheek and finally replied, "No need."

Hua Xiaoliang's face paled slightly, but he knew better than to press further. Soon, his retreating footsteps faded away.

Li Mingzheng came in Lan Yu's mouth. When Lan Yu made to spit, Li Mingzheng commanded, "Swallow it."

Lan Yu froze, then with a visible swallow and a grimace, forced down the thick, bitter release. He looked up at Li Mingzheng with a cold smile. "Still claim he's not your little lover?"

Li Mingzheng said, "Just a pastime. Hardly counts as a lover."

He studied Lan Yu. "Is my little stepmother jealous?"

Lan Yu scoffed, yanking his clothes back on. "Jealous my ass."

Li Mingzheng looked at him, the clothes now covering the reddened peaks of his nipples that had been kneaded moments before. He rubbed them through the fabric, then stubbed out his cigarette with genuine sincerity, saying, "If my little wife dislikes it, we can stop."

Lan Yu swatted his hand away and mocked, "Is Young Master Li planning to remain chaste for me?"

Li Mingzheng neither confirmed nor denied it.

Gazing at him, Lan Yu suddenly spoke with tender affection, "Then you'd better keep that thing of yours in check. If I catch you sneaking around, I'll bite it off."

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