He hovered over her, a rare, playful smile on his lips. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her sides, eliciting soundless giggles from her.
The sight of her joyous, silent laughter was a balm to his hardened heart. Here, away from the judging eyes...
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“You’ll learn to enjoy this, I promise.”
Meilin sat on Shuren’s lap, her grape-like eyes staring at him with an unwavering focus.
As she listened to his words, her expression remained serene, almost doll-like. Shuren’s fingers traced the outline of her lips, his touch lingering and gentle. He teased her lips open, his thumb brushing against the soft moisture inside.
“So, you do have a tongue,” he murmured in quiet observation, his voice carrying a blunt amusement. “Hmph, how pitiful.”
A pitiful little darling, burdened with such fragile vulnerability, doomed to marry a lunatic like him.
Meilin’s only response was a slight fluttering of her eyes, her shy gaze dropping momentarily before lifting again to meet his.
There was no fear or defiance in her demeanor, just a quiet, obedient acceptance of his presence and actions.
Shuren’s smirk widened as he continued to toy with her lips, his thumb pressing just enough to part them further. “What a shame,” he remarked with a chuckle.
“Such a blemish on an otherwise beautiful face.”
The sensation of his touch was both invasive and strangely intimate. Shuren’s eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and something deeper, a predatory glint that made her shiver.
He withdrew his thumb slowly, leaving her lips parted and glistening. Meilin’s chest heaved with suppressed emotion, but she remained seated on his lap, her body tense yet pliant in his grasp.
...
The newlyweds remained locked in that close position when Shuren began to remove his bride's hair accessories with surprising care.
His fingers moved through her hair, feeling its silken texture as he undid the intricate style.
Comically attentive, he leaned close, his face nearly brushing hers as he meticulously detangled her hair.
He let out an irritated sigh. “Whoever did this to your hair had no sense of simplicity,” he muttered, clearly annoyed by the complexity of the hairstyle.
“It’s a wonder you endured the weight of these ornaments,” he added, dropping each piece to the floor as if they were worthless trinkets rather than precious jewels.
Each clink of the discarded adornments sounded almost like an act of rebellion against the unnecessary burden she had carried.
Meilin watched the mess unfold, her eyes fluttering with a mix of obedience and worry. She thought to herself that she might have to clean up the shards of the vase and the discarded jewels later.
Her hands remained fisted on his back, maintaining their embrace.
As Shuren felt the warmth and softness of her body against his, he reconsidered his earlier remark about her being bony. In fact, she was incredibly soft, her delicate frame exuding a surprising warmth.
