Sylvan Cheney was moved.
Jasmine Yale's small hand tugged at his sweater, trying to take off his clothes.
Deep in Sylvan Cheney's eyes was an abyssal luster, like the night outside the window, deep and unfathomable.
Unable to remove his sweater, she could only resort to tugging at his belt.
This time, Sylvan Cheney did not stop her.
Jasmine Yale blushed; this was her first time initiating, and he was not at all helping, just watching the show.
Her small hands halted, not forgetting to ask, "Do you forgive me?"
"Depends on your performance."
Jasmine Yale's face turned even redder, with determination, she pulled down his pants' zipper…
The rain continued outside.
The sky was gloomy, yet the light in the living room was bright.
Soon, the air was filled with the sound of entangled breathing, rising and falling.
It's unclear how much time passed, but Jasmine Yale was so tired she laid in his arms.
After tending to him, she didn't want to move.
