What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: But I’m Not As Good at Kissing As You Are…

The large home theater room still had the movie playing in the background.

When Song Cun heard Qi Yan say he was “good,” his lashes trembled faintly.

He wasn’t as good as Qi Yan thought he was.

“What are you thinking about?”
Qi Yan noticed him zoning out and couldn’t help but speak.

Song Cun tilted his head slightly to look up at him. His slightly swollen lips pressed together for a second before relaxing as he quietly said:

“Last night, didn’t you ask me… why I wanted you to mark me…?”

Qi Yan gently rubbed Song Cun’s hand that had unconsciously balled into a fist.

“Cun Cun, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Why don’t you want to ask today? Is it because you think the reason doesn’t matter anymore?”
Song Cun’s gaze fell to Qi Yan’s long, elegant fingers.

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter.”

Of course, Qi Yan hoped the reason was because Song Cun liked him. He hoped Song Cun had wanted to be marked out of affection.
But he knew—right now, Song Cun didn’t like him enough.
There must be another reason behind it.

Qi Yan intertwined their fingers together, lacing them tightly.

“But just knowing that I’m the alpha you chose to mark you… makes me more than satisfied.”

Song Cun felt deeply moved by that, but his pride made it hard to accept. He turned his head away and pretended to break free:

“You’re always calling yourself my alpha. I wouldn’t stoop so low as to find someone else.”

“Mm, that was my mistake.”
Qi Yan’s voice was low and warm.

His grip was firm but gentle, locking Song Cun’s hand in place.

“I’m your alpha. So you can only choose me—you’re not allowed to choose anyone else.”

Song Cun turned his head back and gave Qi Yan’s hand a little squeeze as he muttered:

“Don’t you think I’m selfish and fickle? I was the one who said no, and now I’m the one saying I want it…”

“I don’t.”
Qi Yan raised his other hand and gently traced Song Cun’s reddened lower eyelid, his fingertip brushing over the tiny tear mole beneath it.

“Whatever you want me to do, Cun Cun—I’ll do it.”

Song Cun lifted his gaze and met Qi Yan’s eyes.

Those deep black eyes always looked at him with unwavering focus and tenderness.

He stared for a few seconds, then suddenly looked down.

“The doctor said my pheromones are prone to fluctuating. If I don’t want it to affect my work, the best solution is to be marked by an alpha…”

His voice grew quieter.

“Do you think… I’m just using you as a tool?”

“No. I don’t feel used at all.”

Qi Yan pulled Song Cun gently into his arms.

“Cun Cun, thank you for being honest with me.
I really mean it—I’m happy.”

Song Cun had been holding in those words for a long time, and finally, they were out. He nuzzled into Qi Yan’s chest, feeling safe and comforted. His muffled voice came out like a soft pout:

“What’s there to be happy about?”

Happy about being used? Song Cun really didn’t get it.

A warm sensation touched the crown of his head—it was Qi Yan lowering his head to kiss his hair.

“I’m happy… because it feels like you trust me a little more now.”

Song Cun’s nose stung with a wave of emotion.

What was wrong with Qi Yan?

He always made Song Cun feel like he was someone important. Like he was being treasured—held gently in the palm of someone’s hand.

The ironic part was… he had never been treated like that before.

No matter how hard he studied or how well he performed in school, he was never as favored as his brother, who barely passed exams.

His birthdays were always forgotten. At best, if his father happened to be in a good mood, he’d mutter,

“Since your brother’s birthday is around the same time, just consider this a joint celebration.”

And if business wasn’t going well, he’d be scolded:

“What right do you have to celebrate anything? I should’ve never let you be born.”

Someone like him—he was being treated so gently, coaxed so patiently, and told he was loved… by Qi Yan.

A warm, wet feeling spread across his chest.

Qi Yan’s heart tensed. He gently cupped Song Cun’s face and frowned in concern.

“What’s wrong, Cun Cun…?”

Song Cun’s lashes were damp, and his eyes rimmed with red.

Qi Yan’s expression softened further. He quickly reached out to wipe the tears at the corners of Song Cun’s eyes with his fingertips, guilt written all over his face.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Stupid Qi Yan.”
Song Cun bit his lip.

Qi Yan, who was rarely flustered, showed rare panic. He still didn’t know what he’d done wrong but instinctively cradled Song Cun’s face and apologized over and over.

“Sorry, I’m sorry—I’m such an idiot…”

“Stupid Qi Yan.”
Song Cun looked at him and repeated it again.

And the next second—He kissed him.

Qi Yan was still caught up in his self-reflection, wondering where he’d gone wrong and how to make it up to Song Cun—When he suddenly realized that Song Cun was kissing him. Actively kissing him.

Though the kiss was clumsy and messy, it instantly calmed Qi Yan’s anxious heart.

He let Song Cun kiss him however he wanted, indulgently allowing him to vent whatever he was feeling.

Even when Song Cun bit and gnawed at him, he didn’t push back—instead, he responded to the rough kisses with tender acceptance, his hand gently stroking Song Cun’s back to ease his emotions.

It was hard to say how long had passed.

Eventually, Song Cun seemed to have vented enough and leaned against Qi Yan’s lips, no longer moving. Only then did Qi Yan begin to lead the kiss.

Qi Yan always kissed very gently—he would hold him, cradle the back of his head with care.

But today, one of their hands stayed tightly interlocked.

And as they kissed and kissed, Song Cun finally melted into the couch, completely soft.

Their entwined hands were pressed above his head, deeply sunken into the cushions…

Every time Qi Yan kissed him, Song Cun felt like he was just so good at it.

Between gasping breaths, Song Cun asked, “Did you… learn this somewhere before? Why are you… so good at kissing…?”

Qi Yan leaned over him and brushed the corner of his lips.

“Did you forget, Cun Cun? You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed.”

Because you’re someone I like deeply.

And when you kiss someone you love, it has nothing to do with technique—it’s pure instinct.

“But I… I’m nowhere near as good at it as you are…”
Song Cun was still panting.

“Then let me teach you this time. How about that?”
Qi Yan gently rubbed his lips against Song Cun’s, as if waiting for permission.

Song Cun’s already flushed cheeks deepened into a brilliant red.

“N-No need. You should just focus on… practicing your pheromone control.”

“Mm.”
Qi Yan’s voice was husky.
“Whatever Cun Cun says.”

The moment he finished speaking, their lips met again.

His slender fingers slowly traced down, searching for Song Cun’s hand—and once again, they interlocked tightly.

Their entwined fingers pressed deep into the sofa cushions once more.

And this time… they held hands with all ten fingers interlaced.