canary in cage

"You're crazy!" Cecil stared at Isri again.

"I'm not crazy, young master." Isri looked into Cecil's eyes, and his voice gradually faded.

After he said those words, there was more disbelief and disgust in those eyes.

Isri frowned, what was he disgusted with?Dislike calling him a god?Still hate love?

Unconsciously, the strength in his hands increased again, and Isri gripped Cehir's ankle tightly, and pulled him to the side of the bed, staring at the wound on his knee.

Isri suppressed the suspicion in his heart, directly lifted the medicine bottle and poured it towards Cehir's knee.

"Oh! It hurts!" Cecil cried out in pain, stimulated by the potion, trying to open Isri's confinement with all his strength.

The tingling pain seeped in from the bone seam like a needle prick, and the nerves of the whole person were tensed into a thread.

The blood mixed with the medicine flowed down the calf to the ground, Cehir was trembling with pain, and his voice was a little weak.

"Isri... that's enough!" Cecil raised his head and met Isri's gaze.

Those pale amber eyes, like a cold pool, seemed to have no pity at all, only endless playfulness and teasing left.

"Master, you still need to deal with the injury." Isri opened his mouth and said, but the movements of his hands continued.

Isri opened a brown medicine bottle again, Cehir's eyes froze for a moment, and his voice broke out directly.

"Isri!" Cecil called out.

Yisli paused for a moment, and stopped what he was doing: "Master, what's the matter?"

"Enough..." Cecil's voice weakened, and the two words were full of begging for mercy.

Isri raised the corners of his lips again, and regardless of the trembling of the ankle he held in his hand, he raised his hand and poured a bottle of potion on the wound.

In an instant, a suppressed miserable cry came intermittently from the silent room.

"The wound hasn't been healed yet, young master, don't worry." The emotion in Isri's eyes moved, and he opened his mouth and said.

Because of the pain, Cehir tightly grasped the quilt, the fine sweat from his forehead kept coming out, and the lips that were still glowing with fine powder were now pale white.

His hands were imprisoned together, and his feet were also tied with exclusive shackles. Cehir's legs shook violently, showing a sense of abusive beauty.

The blood slid across the calf, and the body didn't know whether it was due to pain or panting, but now the whole body was twitching.

Isri's long and narrow eyes narrowed slightly, and the light and shadow outlined his high nose bridge. Looking at Cecil, his throat rolled up and down, and the blood vessels in his neck seemed to be tearing his neck.

Cecil's current appearance is completely like the carnival that has just ended.

Isri did not expect that he would have more serious desires for Cehir like this, and even wanted to go up and put him under him now.

Cecil was not talking, but was holding the quilt tightly in his hands, as if he was waiting for the torture to end.

I don't know how long I endured it, but the pain was still very painful, but I got used to it after a long time, and then, the heavy eyelids started to fight.

The water mist in front of his eyes continued to superimpose until it went down from the corner of his eyes, and Cehir's consciousness began to blur.

It wasn't until Isri finished treating the wound that Cehir had fallen asleep hugging the quilt.

"Master?" Isri tried to call out.

Cecil didn't agree, and his breathing was still even.

Isri got up, wiped off the dirt on his hands, and then walked to Cehir's side, and gently picked him up from the bed.

But the movement was still a bit big, Cecil frowned slightly, and leaned against Isri's shoulder with frowning.

Under the disheveled hair, the eye sockets were bright red, and the slender eyelashes trembled in the air, and there were still some drops of water on them.

Isri put the man back on the bed, but did not remove the chains that bound his hands, and Cecil curled himself up like a shrimp.

Isri bent down and brushed Cecil's hair on both sides behind his ears, and raised his hand to wipe away the tears remaining in the corners of his eyes. It seemed that he had used a little more strength, and the under eye sockets seemed to be even redder than before.

The imprisoned angel fell in front of the devil. It was the most delicious dish on the table, and it was a gift from God that could be encountered but could not be asked for.

The long straight legs were wrapped in trousers, and the waistline was perfect and eye-popping. Isri squatted on one knee beside Cecil, with the corners of his lips raised.

His smile is extremely attractive, completely different from the previous few smiles, something seems to be brewing at the corner of his mouth, and he has a feeling of being slightly drunk at the first glance.

Isri leaned forward slightly, lowered his head very carefully, and touched Cecil's forehead with his lips.

This long-awaited delicacy, just took a sip, and then I can't extricate myself from it.

Like a long-brewed red wine, it is full-bodied and fragrant. After the aftertaste, it evokes the taste buds again and explodes on the tip of the tongue.

For a moment, Yisri felt his waist swelled up. It had been a long time since he felt this way. Yisri frowned suddenly, and his mind was vigilant.

But soon, the feeling of being wary by the appearance of the person in front of him calmly subsided.

If this feeling is for the young master, he is willing.

The taste of the gluttonous god, the emotions in Isri's eyes moved.

Seems to be good too.

Isri stood up, her waist was still swollen, it seemed that the animal desire would soon break through her clothes and go outside to have fun.

The etiquette is still in place, even if his master is already asleep, Isri choked his throat dry//heat, bowed slightly, turned and walked out, and then stuck tightly to the cold door.

I thought about going to prepare lunch after a while, but this time, not only was there no relief, but the feeling was even more obvious.

Staying at the door for a second longer, the pain in the waist became more and more obvious, tearing at the desire to erupt.

Through the clothes, Isri could feel the temperature of his body rising continuously, and his desire became stronger and stronger.

A trace of irritability flashed across Isri's eyes, and the color of the amber eyes darkened a bit, and he turned back and walked towards his room.

As soon as he returned to the room, Yisili walked straight towards the bathroom, the desire//fire in his eyes could not be concealed, after the cold water hit his face, Yisili turned around and wanted to soak in the cold water in the bathtub.

But just as he was about to raise his leg to go in, it seemed like a thread had snapped in his head, and he was stunned.

What happens if you don't suppress it?

This sentence popped into Isri's head, and immediately occupied the whole brain.

The pain in his waist became more obvious, he had never done this kind of thing before, maybe it was because of the first time, the heat of his body increased a bit.

Isri turned off the light in the bathroom, and slowly slid down against the door panel.

The buttons on the neckline were really an eyesore, so Isri unbuttoned them in two or three strokes, and proceeded to the next action clumsily.