"Wife, my precious wife—" Luo Binghe crawls up to capture Shen Yuan's mouth in a crushing kiss. The kiss is clumsy, wet, Luo Binghe too turned on to think, his fingers not pausing inside Shen Yuan. The sensation of Shen Yuan squeezing around them as he comes, of even more wetness leaking out and dripping down Luo Binghe's palm, makes him moan shamelessly into his wife's open mouth. A third finger slides in without resistance. "My dove, does it please you?"