Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 41

The moonlight outside the window had quietly shifted at some point, casting long, silent streaks of light across the polished floor. Gojo Satoru’s embrace was warm and solid. Xue Yang leaned into him, listening to the steady, powerful heartbeat, feeling his own heart—which had wandered for too long, steeped in coldness and blood—being slowly ironed out and warmed. The deep-seated scars, never shown to anyone, had been brutally exposed, yet what he received was not disgust or fear, but deeper understanding, sympathy, and acceptance. This unprecedented experience allowed his taut nerves to completely relax, even giving rise to a sense of drowsy fatigue.

Gojo Satoru felt the rare docility and dependence of the person in his arms, his heart melting completely. He lowered his head, his chin gently rubbing against Xue Yang’s soft, slightly curly black hair. His voice, in the silent room, was particularly low and clear:

“Xue Yang,” he called, his tone unusually solemn, “I’m asking you one more time.”

Xue Yang shifted slightly, a silent acknowledgment.

“I like you. The kind of liking where I want to be your partner and spend the rest of my life with you. It’s not a joke, not a whim.” Gojo Satoru cupped his face, his pale blue eyes in the dim light like a deep sea containing a galaxy, focused and deeply affectionate. “Are you… willing to be with me?”

This time, it was no longer a declaration laced with testing or calculation, but an equal and cherished request.

Xue Yang looked up at the handsome face so close to his own, gazing into those eyes that seemed capable of drawing out one’s soul. Clearly reflected within them was his own face, slightly disheveled but no longer lost. His heart pounded in his chest, carrying a strange sweetness and a tremendous sense of stability.

He recalled the man’s power and arrogance when they first met, his clumsy attempts at feeding him and his stubborn embraces, his unprincipled indulgence, and that arrogant declaration, “Wherever I stand, that is the right path.” More importantly, he remembered the cross-temporal heartache in his voice just now and the promise, “Your vengeance, I will remember it for you.”

This person saw through all his darkness and flaws, yet still chose to embrace him, to like him, and even… to love him?

Perhaps, he could try to believe, try to possess.

Xue Yang took a deep breath, as if expending all his strength. His amber eyes, which usually flickered with vigilance or mockery, were now crystal clear, reflecting Gojo Satoru’s expectant figure. He nodded, his voice very soft, yet exceptionally firm:

“Yes. I am willing.”

Those three simple words were like the sound of heaven, instantly igniting all the starlight in Gojo Satoru’s eyes. A massive joy swept over him like a tsunami. He could no longer restrain himself, lowering his head to precisely capture the lips he had longed for.

This kiss was different from any previous playful or comforting touch. It carried long-suppressed passion, the preciousness of something lost and found, and surging love. Gojo Satoru’s kissing skill was superb and lingering, a gentle offensive that brooked no refusal, easily prying open Xue Yang’s teeth and deepening the kiss.

Xue Yang was initially stiff and awkward, passively enduring it. But Gojo Satoru’s scent was too familiar, his embrace too comforting, and the entanglement of their lips and teeth held a dizzying magic. He tentatively, clumsily began to respond, his arms unconsciously wrapping around Gojo Satoru’s neck.

This subtle response was like lighting the final fuse. Gojo Satoru’s breathing instantly grew heavy, and the arm wrapped around Xue Yang’s waist tightened abruptly, almost crushing him into his own body. The kiss became deeper, more urgent, carrying a scorching heat, as if intending to devour both their souls.

The air was filled with ambiguous gasps and the subtle wet sounds of lips meeting. Xue Yang felt his consciousness gradually blurring. A strange and intense heat surged deep within his body, making his limbs weak. He could only cling powerlessly to Gojo Satoru, allowing the other man to take whatever he desired.

He didn’t know how much time passed. Only when Xue Yang lightly pushed him away due to lack of oxygen did Gojo Satoru reluctantly release his lips. Foreheads pressed together, both were breathing heavily. Gojo Satoru’s sunglasses had slipped off at some point; his brilliant pale blue eyes were now deep as a whirlpool, swirling with undisguised desire and affection.

Xue Yang’s cheeks were flushed, the corners of his eyes damp. His amber eyes were veiled with moisture. The usual arrogance and sharpness were replaced by a dazed softness, presenting a breathtaking allure.

Gojo Satoru’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He clearly felt the uncontrollable change in a certain part of his body, and at the same time, he sensed Xue Yang’s equally tense and hot reaction.

He took a deep breath, using the utmost self-control not to immediately consummate their relationship right there. He scooped Xue Yang up into his arms, his voice hoarse with passion:

“You’re covered in sweat… Let’s shower together.”

This was not a question, but a declaration carrying a certain implication.

Xue Yang gasped, startled by the sudden movement, and instinctively tightened his arms around Gojo Satoru’s neck. Hearing the word “shower,” and meeting Gojo Satoru’s eyes that seemed ready to burn him to ashes, he instantly understood what was likely to happen next. His cheeks burned even hotter. He buried his flushed face in Gojo Satoru’s neck, not refusing, but nodding almost imperceptibly.

Steam filled the bathroom. The warm water washed over their bodies, washing away the last vestiges of distance and shyness. Gojo Satoru’s movements were extremely gentle, yet carried an undeniable possessiveness, meticulously cleaning every inch of Xue Yang’s skin, as if handling a rare treasure. Xue Yang closed his eyes, letting him work, his body trembling slightly from both nervousness and anticipation.

When Gojo Satoru’s fingers, slick with shower gel, tentatively slid toward certain private areas, Xue Yang’s body suddenly tensed, his breath catching.

Gojo Satoru paused, whispering in his ear, his breath hot: “Don’t be afraid… leave it to me.”

His voice held a magic that soothed Xue Yang’s final anxieties.

After the shower, Gojo Satoru carefully wrapped Xue Yang in a large, soft towel and carried him back to the bedroom, gently placing him on the spacious bed. Moonlight filtered through the gap in the partially drawn curtains, spilling onto Xue Yang’s fair skin, giving it a lustrous sheen. His damp amber eyes looked up at him, filled with nervousness, trust, and a hint of reckless indulgence.

Gojo Satoru leaned over, supporting himself above Xue Yang. His silver-white hair fell, intertwining with Xue Yang’s black strands. He gazed at the person beneath him, his eyes deep as the sea, his voice low and sexy, carrying the last of his restraint and respect:

“Xue Yang… may I? I want to… possess you more deeply.”

Xue Yang looked at the incredibly powerful man above him, who was now cautious and seeking consent because of him. His last shred of hesitation vanished. He reached out, actively hooking his arms around Gojo Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer, answering with an awkward but firm kiss.

“Yes.”

With permission granted, the last thread of restraint in Gojo Satoru’s eyes snapped. He lowered his head, kissing those intoxicating lips again, this time with all-consuming passion and absolute possession.

The night was still long. The moonlight outside the window gently watched the two lovers who had just confirmed their feelings for each other, witnessing the most intimate union of their souls and bodies. Pain and pleasure intertwined, awkwardness and guidance coexisted, and gasps and soft moans rose and fell.

When everything settled into quietude, Gojo Satoru held the exhausted Xue Yang tightly in his arms, lightly kissing his sweaty forehead and slightly swollen lips, his heart filled with an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and happiness.

His little wild beast finally belonged to him, completely and utterly.

Xue Yang curled up in his embrace, tired but secure. Feeling the warm hug and gentle comfort of the man behind him, he vaguely thought before drifting into a deep sleep:

This… seems pretty good.

No, it’s great.

It’s wonderful.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the gap in the partially drawn curtains, casting a narrow, warm band of light on the floor. Tiny dust motes floated slowly in the light beam, like dancing golden sprites.

Gojo Satoru woke first. Due to his biological clock, even after staying up late into the night, he regained consciousness at his usual time. The moment awareness returned, the first things he felt were the real weight and warm touch of the person in his arms. He looked down at Xue Yang, curled up and sleeping soundly.

The youth’s black hair was scattered messily on the pillow, a few strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. His features, usually marked by vigilance or mockery, were completely relaxed. His long lashes rested quietly, casting faint shadows beneath his eyelids. His lips were slightly swollen and red marks, remnants of the night’s frenzy and intimacy, were visible on his neck and collarbone, standing out against his pale skin.

Gojo Satoru’s heart instantly softened completely. An indescribable sense of satisfaction and possessiveness arose. His little wild beast, now like a cat with all its claws retracted, nestled obediently in his arms, trusting him with its entire being. This feeling gave him more fulfillment than exorcising a hundred Special Grade Curses.

He carefully adjusted his posture, pulling Xue Yang closer into his embrace, afraid of disturbing his good sleep. His fingertips gently brushed the slight crease between Xue Yang’s brows, suggesting a lingering discomfort even in sleep. A flash of heartache crossed Gojo Satoru’s eyes. He lowered his head and placed an extremely light kiss on Xue Yang’s forehead.

Perhaps his movement still disturbed the person in his arms. Xue Yang unconsciously whimpered, his eyelashes fluttering a few times before he slowly opened his eyes. His amber eyes, heavy with sleep and moisture, were like mist-covered glass. He stared blankly at Gojo Satoru, who was inches away, seemingly not yet fully awake.

“…What are you looking at?” A hoarse voice, thick with sleep, sounded. The tone lacked force, sounding more like a whine.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, the vibration of his chest transferring to Xue Yang: “Looking at how beautiful you are.” His voice was also slightly husky from the morning, but filled with unmelting affection.

Xue Yang finally woke up completely. The memories of last night flooded his mind like a tide, and certain parts of his body sent clear signals of discomfort. His cheeks instantly flushed crimson, even the tips of his ears turning red. He instinctively tried to turn his back to Gojo Satoru, but was firmly held by the other man’s arm, unable to move.

“Why are you hiding?” Gojo Satoru leaned in, their noses almost touching, their breaths mingling. “Now you’re shy? Someone was actively hooking their arms around my neck last night…”

“Shut up!” Xue Yang glared at him in embarrassment and anger, raising his hand to cover his mouth, but Gojo Satoru easily caught his wrist and kissed it.

“Alright, alright, I won’t say anything.” Gojo Satoru complied readily, finding his flushed cheeks and flickering eyes extremely amusing. “Are you… still uncomfortable?”

Xue Yang pursed his lips, refusing to answer, but the slight furrow in his brow and his unconsciously clamped legs said it all.

Gojo Satoru sighed, his tone apologetic and tender: “My fault. I’ll be more careful next time.” He released Xue Yang’s wrist and instead used his palm to gently rub Xue Yang’s lower back. “Is this area sore?”

The warm palm, applying just the right amount of pressure, relieved the muscle stiffness. Xue Yang comfortably narrowed his eyes, like a cat being stroked, letting out a muffled purr, tacitly accepting the service.

The two lay quietly, embracing, neither speaking again. The sunlight gradually brightened, clarifying the contours of the room. An unprecedented atmosphere of peace and warmth permeated the air, as if even time had slowed its pace.

After a while, Xue Yang’s stomach let out an embarrassing “grumble.” His body stiffened, and his ears turned even redder.

Gojo Satoru stifled a laugh, rubbing his stomach: “Hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll make it.”

Xue Yang looked at him skeptically: “You can cook?” He remembered Gojo Satoru’s glorious history as a “kitchen killer.”

“I can manage simple things, like fried eggs and toast,” Gojo Satoru said confidently. “Or… should we order delivery? Do you want those strawberry pancakes or the seafood congee?”

“Both,” Xue Yang said without hesitation.

“Fine, whatever you want.” Gojo Satoru picked up the phone on the bedside table, quickly placed the order, then put the phone down and hugged Xue Yang tightly again. “Lie down a little longer. I’ll grab the delivery when it arrives.”

Xue Yang hummed in agreement, relaxing in his arms, feeling the other man’s steady heartbeat and warm body temperature. The scent of Gojo Satoru—clean and slightly sweet like dessert—enveloped him. An unprecedented sense of security wrapped around him.

He quietly raised his eyes, looking at Gojo Satoru’s beautifully sculpted jawline and slightly upturned lips. This powerful, seemingly omnipotent man was now holding him carefully, with only him in his eyes and heart.

This feeling was strange yet intoxicating.

He extended his intact right hand, hesitated for a moment, then gently hugged Gojo Satoru’s waist in return, burying his face deeper into his chest.

Gojo Satoru felt his movement. His body stiffened slightly, and then a massive wave of ecstasy and warmth surged through him. His little wild beast was responding to his feelings in its clumsy way.

He tightened his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of Xue Yang’s head.

“Xue Yang.”

“Hmm?”

“Every day like this from now on, alright?”

“…Annoying.”

Sunlight filled the room, falling upon the embracing couple, coating them in a warm golden edge. The intense passion of the night had transformed into the quiet tenderness of the moment. The road ahead might still be long, but as long as they had each other, they had nothing to fear.

This, perhaps, was the best start for them.