Chapter 38: Tease him.

Cian no longer had a headache, but he was stunned. What’s coming?

His fingers fumbled in the drawer as he pulled out the leather box. At first he was guessing what kind of gift might be inside, but the moment he opened the clasp, his fingers froze.

Cian: "?"

He could hardly believe his eyes.

The box was lined with velvet, and on the velvet lay a jet black whip.

The handle was soft leather, well made, and comfortable to hold. For certain enthusiasts, it would probably be very appealing.

Cian: "..."

Putting together everything that had happened that morning, he seemed to understand.

Eoin heard the box open. His back went tense, and he felt cold and nervous, his skin prickling. As Cian came closer, he suddenly spoke in a very soft voice. "Belleek."

The footsteps behind him stopped at once.

Eoin let out a breath, and his stiff back relaxed again.

They hadn’t done anything yet, so of course this wasn’t a moment for the safe word. It was more of a small test than a call to stop. Eoin wanted to check whether, after five years, the safe word still worked, and whether Cian would stop when he said it.

Now that he knew, Eoin turned his head back. "It’s okay. You can go on."

Instead of the crack of a whip, he heard a soft sigh.

Then something heavy hit the floor. Eoin glanced back and saw the leather box, whip and all, flying through the air. Cian had thrown it. It crashed into the corner with a loud clang. The box couldn’t take the hit, and two of its corners were dented. It rolled a few times along the floor and came to a sad stop.

...Why had he thrown it away?

Eoin was confused and about to ask when he saw Cian’s annoyed face. Cian strode over, and suddenly Eoin felt weightless as he was lifted off the floor.

"Cian!"

Cian chuckled. "Now you know to call out?"

He scooped Eoin up by the knees. The world spun, and after a moment of dizziness, Eoin was carried into the bedroom and dropped straight onto the bed.

Cian cared about his sleep and had swapped the mattress, so the bed was very soft and it didn’t hurt. Eoin sank into the bedding, and before he could speak, a handsome face loomed close. Cian pinned his wrists above his head and trapped him firmly between his arms and the bed.

The position was risky. They were only a few centimetres apart, and Cian was much stronger. Eoin felt like prey caught by a predator, completely unable to resist, forced to lie there at Cian’s mercy. He stared up anxiously, his wrists twitching.

Then the predator poked him in the forehead with a finger.

It was a firm poke, and it stung a little.

Cian sighed, a bit exasperated. "No offence, Eoin, but what the hell is going on in that head of yours?"

He had a fair idea of what Eoin was thinking. Cian’s hangover headache must have looked like a breakdown, and the last time Cian had acted out was also after drinking, so it had left Eoin with some trauma. Eoin probably thought Cian would have a breakdown and hurt himself whenever he drank. On top of that, Dr. Keane had told him the original host’s illness was severe and that he had found relief by hitting people. Eoin must have decided a few hits were better than Cian going completely off the rails.

...At least he wasn’t a total idiot. Cian had checked the whip. It was a light, playful prop, and Eoin had even remembered the safe word.

Pinned down, Eoin looked up at him, confused and innocent.

Cian sighed, still not satisfied, and poked Eoin’s forehead again so that his head bobbed. Then he scolded him. "Mr. Brennan, the Teaching Assistant, are you stupid or what?"

When Cian had held him earlier, Eoin’s body had still been trembling slightly. Now, wrapped in the duvet, he had finally calmed down. Eoin clearly had no special taste for this and didn’t enjoy pain. When Cian had picked up the whip, Eoin had even been scared.

And yet he had still kept the tools ready in the sitting room cabinet.

Eoin turned his head back and quietly watched Cian’s face. It was still pale, but within a normal range, though he looked troubled. He was frowning tightly, his lips pressed together, at his wits’ end, with a hint of resigned despair.

Eoin asked softly, "Are you all right now?"

He struggled a little. "Let me take you to Glenmore Hospital. Move aside, I’ll call Dr. Keane..."

He still thought Cian was mentally ill.

Cian thought, Is this even a life? Before, their relationship had been about the task, and Eoin thought he was mentally ill. Fine, no problem, since they would part ways once the task was done. But now they had even met each other’s family, and the person in his arms was about to become his partner for life, and still thought he was mentally ill. If they played some intimate game, or drank a bit, or he had a headache, Eoin would send him off to Glenmore Hospital. Is this even a life?

Cian’s head already hurt, and now it throbbed even harder. He pinned Eoin down and didn’t budge. "Let me make this clear: I don’t have a mental illness."

Under Eoin’s puzzled gaze, he admitted reluctantly, "Okay, I did have one, but it was very mild, and it’s already cured. And I don’t like hitting people. I don’t have that kind of twisted hobby. I’ve never hit anyone..."

"All right," he took a deep breath and kept digging his own grave, "I did hit a bully at the school gate, but that was because he snatched a girl’s purse. She was about to cry, so I stepped in."

Eoin still hesitated, pursing his lips. "But..."

Cian didn’t want to hear "but." This was simply impossible to explain now, and even if he tried, it wouldn’t be clear, and he’d be stuck with the label of mental illness. So he grabbed Eoin by the back of the neck, made him look up, leaned down, and kissed him.

"!"

Cian had never kissed anyone before, and neither had Eoin. At first they were like two awkward kids, lips bumping, teeth clashing. But compared to Eoin, who had always been a good boy, Cian, who had once been a troublemaker, had a natural advantage. Soon he got the hang of it.

He parted Eoin’s lips and coaxed his startled tongue to answer, while the hand behind Eoin’s head held him firmly and cut off every way to retreat, forcing him to look up.

He stole the breath from Eoin’s mouth, and the person in his arms had gone completely soft at some point and looked at him blankly, as if the kiss had stunned him.

Cian sighed again. "Mr. Brennan, the Teaching Assistant, breathe."

He hadn’t bullied him too hard. Seeing how dazed Eoin looked, he felt exasperated and scolded him sternly. "Do you know what that thing is for? And you let me use it? Do you know what could happen if things got out of hand with it?"

If it had fallen into the hands of someone like the original owner, it would definitely have led to an accident.

Eoin was a bit indignant, and his competitive student streak came out at the wrong moment. "I know."

"Oh? So you know?" Cian raised an eyebrow. "All right, I happen not to. Mr. Brennan, the Teaching Assistant, explain it to me. How exactly is it played?"

"..."

Eoin turned his face away and curled his fingers, embarrassment written all over him.

Knowing is one thing, saying it out loud is another. And he was the one being played with, so teaching someone how to play with him was just too much.

Cian was determined to teach him a lesson. "Say it. How is it played? What are the risks? How many days will it hurt? How much pain? How many hits can you take? Say it."

He was relentless, firing question after question, and Eoin, pushed to the edge, blurted out, "I did my homework!"

Cian laughed in disbelief.

He twirled a lock of Eoin’s hair and said meaningfully, "Oh, so you did your homework. Truly worthy of the top student. You even did homework on this. Come on, tell me, what homework did you do?"

Cian, gentle by nature now, had once been a troublemaker, and there was a mischievous streak hidden in his bones. The more Eoin resisted, the more he wanted to tease him.

Eoin’s face went red as a lobster, and even his toes curled under the duvet. He struggled a little, but Cian held him tight, as if he wouldn’t let go without an answer.

Eoin calmed down a little and lowered his eyes. "It’s like this. I looked up related papers, read research from international sources, compared pictures of injuries, and got a general idea of pain levels. I compared the tools carefully and picked one that does less harm. I also bought medical alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and antibiotics for cleaning and preventing infection, and an antibacterial dressing to help wounds heal..."

Cian: "..."

Eoin started out speaking in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum, but as he went on, his confidence grew, until he was speaking fluently and treating it like a science that needed careful study.

He really had researched it.

Cian was lost for words.

Eoin: "I also compared how the different drugs work and picked the ones with fewer side effects... mmm!"

Cian couldn’t stand it any longer and kissed him again.