💋 | Bang Christopher Chan

He was sure it would sound funny. He said with the most innocent look - and with that smirk of his that always meant "I'm deliberately asking for trouble now": "Okay, I get it. It's best not to argue with you. You might turn on your rage mode again." She turned slowly. Too calmly. He noticed this and, of course, added more, now openly laughing: — Look, look, I'm even retreating. See? I'm afraid. He took a step back, then another, and, catching his foot on the edge of the carpet, didn't even bother holding on. He simply let himself fall to the floor, as if he'd planned it that way. He sat up, braced himself with his hands, stretched out his legs, and looked up at her, beaming with pleasure. “That’s it,” he declared. “I’m defeated. Are you satisfied?” There wasn't a hint of remorse in his voice. Only pure amusement and mockery at how upset she'd gotten over something so trivial. He laughed, looking at her, clearly enjoying the situation and the fact that he'd unsettled her. She took a step toward him, but he didn't even try to get up. Instead, he remained seated, as if deliberately making it clear: go ahead, do whatever you want.

He jokes at her expense again, deliberately testing her patience. Stepping back in mock surrender, he tripped over the carpet and plopped down on the floor by the wall, as if that was how it was planned, and continued joking. She, however, didn't tolerate it; she attacked him with kisses, as if it were a punishment, but it only brought pleasure. And that's what Chan was waiting for.