CHAPTER 74

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, and Eros laid Ebisu down gently on the bed as if he were placing a precious keepsake somewhere safe. The soft lamplight pooled around them, catching the slight tremble in Yibo's hands as he ran them slowly down Ebisu's chest.

"I want to remember you like this," Eros whispered, brushing aside  Ebisu's shirt and pressing his lips over the space just above his heart. "Where your heartbeat is. So if I forget your face. I'll remember the sound of this rhythm."

Ebisu arched toward him, overwhelmed, whispering, "I'm here. Always."

Eros kissed him again, deeper now, his hand sliding behind  Ebisu's neck, the other gripping his waist as if anchoring himself. Their bodies aligned instinctively, skin meeting skin with rising urgency, but the desperation never overpowered the reverence.

Eros worshipped every inch of him, lingering on Ebisu's throat, murmuring, "This is where I first tasted your breath when you whispered you loved me." On his collarbone: "This is where your tears fell the night we promised forever."

Over his hips, his thighs, his trembling hands "And this is where I'll plant our future. Right here."

Ebisu's fingers threaded into Eros's hair, pulling him closer. "Then take me. All of me. Let's make this memory a heartbeat I'll carry inside."

Eros met his eyes those beautiful, unblurred eyes he could still see clearly and entered him slowly, reverently. Their breath caught together, and the world outside fell away.

Nothing else existed in that moment but the two of them, bodies moving in rhythm, lips brushing between gasps and moans, hands clutching desperately. They weren't just making love. They were writing legacy into skin, threading memory through veins, etching promises into the future.

Eros whispered his name like a prayer every time Zhan's body clenched around him. "Zhan.. Ebisu..love ..You're my whole vision."

And  Ebisu cried openly, kissing Eros between each tear. "Don't forget me. Let me stay here... inside you."

As they reached the peak together, trembling and breathless, Yibo buried his face in  Ebisu's shoulder, whispering hoarsely, "Let's make a life tonight. A little soul with your warmth and my fire."

Ebisu nodded against his cheek, voice trembling. "Let's bring them into the world with love."

—-

The room was hushed in the aftermath, filled only with the sound of their slow, shared breathing. "I hate what you've gone through," Ebisu whispered. "But I love the way you still love me through it."

Eros's and found Ebisu's cheek, gently tipping his face up. His thumb brushed the tear still caught on Zhan's lashes. "You're the only thing I've never forgotten,  Ebisu. You're the only face I see clearly the only one that's never blurred. You're my anchor."

Ebisu leaned into his touch, but before he could speak, Eros's lips met his again, slower this time, deeper. It wasn't rushed or desperate. It was consuming. A silent promise that this wasn't the end of their night.

As their mouths moved together, Eros rolled on top of him again, fitting their bodies as if molded for each other. "I need you," he murmured against Ebisu's lips. "One more time. Maybe a hundred more. I want to fill you with everything I am until there's nothing left inside me but you."

Ebisu's breath caught, and he gave a soft nod. "Take all of me, Eros . I'm yours. Forever."

This time, Eros moved with a slow, aching tenderness, trailing kisses from Ebisu's lips down his throat, whispering words between each touch.

"Here..." he kissed the hollow of Ebisu's neck. "This is where you always curl into me when you're half-asleep." A kiss to Ebisu's chest, over his heart. "Here's where your love lives. I feel it... every time you say my name."

Down his stomach, over trembling skin, Eros spoke between kisses, "And here I want to plant our child. A child who will carry your smile. Your laughter. Your heart."

Ebisu let out a trembling breath, already sensitive, but yearning for  Eros's weight again. "Yibo, please..."

Eros slid into him once more, slow and smooth, filling him deeply. Their eyes locked.  Ebisu's hands clutched his shoulders, grounding himself in the heat of  Eros's gaze.

"You feel like home," Eros whispered, voice tight with emotion. "You always have. Even when I forget where I am, I find you, every time."

Their bodies moved together again, slow waves, deeper now, more raw. There was no urgency. Only rhythm. Only meaning.

Ebisu moaned softly, the sound turning into Eros's name, over and over. "Yibo... Eros, love ...me.."

"I already do," he murmured back, kissing him through every thrust, every cry. "More than life. More than breath. If my mind forgets you someday, promise me you'll remind me. Even if I look at you like a stranger... remind me you're mine."

Zhan's tears spilled, but he smiled. "Then give me everything tonight. Fill me with your love... so I can give it back." And Yibo did.

Over and over, with every touch, every kiss, every deep movement, he poured himself into Ebisu like a prayer—until they shattered again, together, wrapped around each other like the very air they needed to live.

⸻

Eros stayed inside him for a long moment, his forehead resting against Zhan's, both of them breathing each other in.

"This time" he whispered, brushing the hair from Zhan's damp face, "I know. Our child is with us now."

Ebisu pressed a hand over his own stomach, his voice barely a breath, "Then they were made from nothing but love."

Eros smiled, exhausted but shining. "Exactly how they should be."

The room was dim, lit only by the flicker of the bedside lamp. Outside the wind whispered gently through the trees, and the distant sound of crickets curled around the edges of the silence. Inside, time felt paused—nothing existed beyond this room, beyond their breathing.

Ebisu lay on his side, body boneless from their night of intense love, the sheets tangled around his waist. His skin still glowed, kissed pink with affection, and his back—bare and vulnerable was turned to Eros, rising and falling with each slow breath.

Yibo sat beside him on the edge of the bed, a warm bowl of water and a soft towel in hand. He dipped the towel into the water, wrung it carefully, and pressed it gently against Zhan's shoulder.

Ebisu stirred slightly, then hummed as the warmth soaked into his skin. "You don't have to," he whispered sleepily.

"I want to," Yibo replied, voice a low hush. "Let me love you like this." Zhan said nothing more he only closed his eyes and let Yibo tend to him.

⸻

Yibo moved slowly, as if touching something fragile and precious. He ran the warm towel over Zhan's skin, wiping away the traces of their passion—not with haste, but reverence. Every inch of Zhan's back was touched like it was a sacred story, each line of muscle and bone speaking of survival. And then, Yibo reached the faded scars.

The remnants of a time long gone—but never truly forgotten.

Sixteen years ago. Each scar, small or long, raised or faint, was a silent witness to Zhan's pain. To the darkness he had once lived in. To the hands that hurt him. To the lonely years when love was something he had to hide, when safety was a dream.

Yibo's breath caught in his throat. He dropped the towel onto the sheets and lowered himself, pressing his lips softly to the first scar near Zhan's left shoulder blade.

A kiss. Then the next. And the next. He kissed them all. Slowly. Carefully. As if each one could be erased by love.

"You were so strong," Yibo whispered between kisses. "So brave. And no one should've hurt you. Not then. Not ever."

Zhan's throat tightened. He gripped the pillow, his eyes burning. "You survived when no one protected you. But I swear, Zhan you'll never be alone again. No one will ever lay a hand on you except in love."

His kisses moved downward, over a faint line along Zhan's ribs, then to the one near his spine. Each time Yibo's lips touched scarred skin, he poured in warmth, reverence, devotion.

"I wish I could go back in time," Yibo murmured, voice cracking. "I'd find you. I'd pull you away. I'd give that boy a home. I'd hold him and never let him hurt."

Zhan turned his face into the pillow, a tear sliding down his cheek. "You're already doing that," he choked out. "Right now. You're undoing the pain with every touch."

Yibo pressed one final kiss to the small of Zhan's back. "Then let me love every part of you," he said. "Not just the beautiful but the broken. The scarred. The part no one else dared to look at."

—

He gently pulled Zhan into his arms, covering them both with the blanket. Zhan turned, burying his face in Yibo's neck, and there in the quiet, they simply breathed—two hearts healing together.

—

The next day. Golden morning light filtered through the soft curtains, casting a warm hue over the familiar contours of their bedroom. The scent of spring lingered in the air fresh grass, blooming flowers, and something sweeter still: home.

Zhan was the first to stir. He blinked slowly, still cradled in Yibo's arms, his cheek resting against Yibo's bare chest. The steady thump of his husband's heart beneath his skin was the only sound he needed to know they were safe. Together. Still breathing in the same rhythm.

Yibo's hand was tangled loosely in Zhan's hair, and he let out a soft hum, his lips brushing Zhan's forehead. "Morning, baobei..."

Zhan smiled sleepily. "Morning" Just then, the quiet was broken by a loud knock and the unmistakable voice of their teenage son outside the door. "Nana! Daddy! I made breakfast! And you have to try it, because if you don't come downstairs in two minutes, I'm eating your share!"

Yibo groaned. Zhan snorted into his chest. Yibo rolled his eyes but chuckled as he sat up, tugging on a T-shirt. "He grew too fast. Just yesterday, I swear he was running around the garden with a juice box and mismatched socks."

"And now he's nearly taller than both of us," Zhan said, brushing his hair back and sliding out of bed.

Yibo paused beside the mirror as Zhan wrapped his arms around him from behind. For a moment, they simply looked at each other through the reflection.

Yibo, the man who'd once been afraid to love too deeply, afraid to leave nothing behind and Zhan, the boy who had once believed no one would ever stay. Now they had a home. A son. A forever.

⸻

Outside, the kitchen was already filled with the scent of slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, and something suspiciously sweet. Ayuan stood in an apron far too small for his broad shoulders, holding a wooden spatula like a weapon and glaring at the waffle iron.

Zhan's lips twitched. "Did you cook or destroy the kitchen baby radish?"

"I experimented, Nana" Ayuan said, proudly presenting a plate. "These waffles have bananas, cinnamon, and a hint of um chili powder."

Yibo stared. "Why the chili?"

"I don't know" He said innocently. Zhan burst out laughing and pulled Ayuan into a hug. The boy towered over him now, all legs and arms and teen swagger, but when he leaned into Zhan's shoulder and made a dramatic whining sound. "You're ridiculous," Zhan whispered, kissing his cheek.

"I learned from the best."

Yibo stole one of the waffles and took a bite. His eyes widened. "Okay, this is actually not bad?"

Ayuan beamed. "See? I'm a genius!"

They all sat down at the breakfast table, plates stacked high, sunlight pouring through the windows. It was nothing grand, but it was everything. A life hard-won, built with love and the quiet choice to stay through all the storms.

At one point, Zhan looked over at Yibo his eyes a little brighter than before. And Yibo reached across the table, fingers intertwining with his. And Ayuan, mid-bite, looked up and caught the moment. He groaned.

"Oh my god, stop looking at each other like that. You're going to cry again. Do I need to leave the room?"

Yibo didn't even glance at him. "You'll  understand when you're older."

Zhan winked. "Or when you fall in love and become the crying one."

"Never!" Ayuan declared dramatically—just before he knocked over the syrup bottle. They burst into laughter.