Content Warning: Mild NFSW

The moment they kissed, both of them sighed softly. Zhou Jun kiss was extremely tender, his tongue sofly licking Yong Jin lips.

Yong Jin tightened his waist and thrust into his mouth roughly. He withdrew his hands from Zhou Jun’s waist, grasped the legs exposed from the robe, and stuck his waist in.

Zhou Jun’s tongue throbbed with pain from being sucked, his brows furrowing, yet he didn’t pull back. Instead, he gripped Yong Jin’s hair more passionately, pressing his face closer. His legs instinctively tightened around Yong Jin’s waist. Despite his discomfort with the passive posture, he was feeling unexpectedly stirred. Yong Jin’s hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, tracing along the edge of his waistband.

The silk was smooth, but the skin underneath even smoother. Yong Jin attempted to tug at the edge of his underwear, but Zhou Jun, snapping out of the kiss, blocked him with a hand. Despite the flush of desire still coloring Zhou Jun’s pale cheeks and his lips slightly swollen from the kiss, he managed to voice his refusal: “You said just a kiss.”

Zhou Jun was clearly in denial. To say he had no feelings for Yong Jin would be impossible. But he couldn’t betray his family by fully giving in and ending up in bed with the major general. A few kisses and touches, though—they were just fleeting pleasures, not a real betrayal. As long as things didn’t go too far, he could still hold his head high and tell his brother that there was nothing serious between him and Yong Jin.

It took Yong Jin a good while to finally pull his hand away from Zhou Jun’s waistband. Frustration filled his gaze—his desires left unfulfilled, interrupted halfway, sparking a burning impatience that gnawed at him. His breaths came heavy as he asked, “So…what now?”

Although Zhou Jun’s underwear hasn’t been taken off, his desire was clearly swelling, his loose boxer shorts hung like a piece of cloth that couldn’t hide anything. Without even looking, one could tell it was damp in one spot. Seeing Zhou Jun biting his lip in a daze, Yong Jin tugged at his collar, pulling it down to his chest and revealing a glimpse of his delicate nipple against the white fabric. The areola was shallow, like the tip of a budding lotus, a hint of pink against the white.

Zhou Jun had his chest held by someone; it wasn’t the first time Yong Jin had played with this part of him, but it remained sensitive. He took a small breath, needing to reassure himself that it was fine, that it was just a little fondling of his chest. After all, he was a man, and being touched there wasn’t a big deal.

Until Yong Jin leaned his face against his chest, completing what had been interrupted by a phone call last time on the bed at the Yong residence. Yong Jin took his nipple into his mouth, and let out a sound. The tone was low and heavy, like the moans of Zhou Jun when he was about to release; the sound of a man’s pleasure.

Zhou Jun didn’t neglect himself either; he reached down and started to rub the organ between his legs. He had never felt anything like this before; just the touch of his hand through the fabric on the tip made his back tingle. It felt too good—so good that his eyes were as wet as his lower body.

But Yong Jin couldn’t stand seeing him so happy, unable to bear that he was enjoying himself, yet was still reluctant to agree to take off that piece of cloth covering him. So, Zhou Jun’s hand, which was rubbing himself, was caught and forcefully pressed down on the table. Zhou Jun’s fingertips were damp, leaving faint marks along the edge of the table. Feeling uneasy, he shifted uncomfortably, kicking his legs as he struggled with all his strength against Yong Jin’s assertive actions.

His nipple slipped out of Yong Jin’s mouth, with a slight tug before it bounced back onto the areola. The little bud had been sucked until it was larger, deepening in color, turning from a small red dot to a darker shade. Annoyed, Zhou Jun told Yong Jin to let go, and Yong Jin complied, but then reached down to unzip his own pants. He didn’t remove Zhou Jun’s underwear, only his own.

That thing Zhou Jun had only felt before but never seen came out from the zipper, its intimidating size pressing suggestively against his thigh. Yong Jin adjusted it with his hand, and the tip, through the fabric, pressed just below Zhou Jun’s groin as his hips sank slightly against the desk, creating a slight dip beneath him.

As Yong Jin pressed against him, Zhou Jun’s lower abdomen tightened. His cheeks burned, he was reluctant to look down, fearing he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Yong Jin buried his face in Zhou Jun’s neck, his tongue tracing along his veins in a teasing way. With a gentle grip, he took Zhou Jun’s hand, rubbing between his fingers and lightly slipping between them.

It was as if they were doing it, yet not truly engaging. The intimacy, obscured by their clothing, created a damp mark. As if trying to escape, Zhou Jun spread his legs, shaking his hips silently under the friction in the crease. Yong Jin’s strength around his waist increased, no longer satisfied with just rubbing against him.

Then Zhou Jun was lifted off the desk, his robe pulled up above his chest. Yong Jin pressed against his mouth, making him open it to hold onto the edge of the clothing. Zhou Jun’s eyelashes trembled for a moment, but he obediently opened his mouth. The fabric was stuffed into his mouth, while Yong Jin’s hand traveled from his chest down to his thigh. The pressure varied between light and heavy, and before long, it slipped inside the loose waistband of his underwear.

Zhou Jun furrowed his brows and looked at Yong Jin, his gaze almost accusing him of not following through on his words. Yong Jin smiled, but there was something mischievous and slightly rogue about that smile. “I won’t take it off,” he said. His hands slipped into Zhou Jun’s underwear and gripped his fleshy buttocks, kneading them in a lewd manner.

Realizing he had been tricked, Zhou Jun refused to comply. Taking advantage of the moment, he pushed Yong Jin away. He wanted to run, thinking he could slip into the bathroom and lock the door. There, he could also relieve the arousal that had been stirred within him, killing two birds with one stone. However, Young Master Zhou couldn’t escape Yong Jin. Midway through his attempt, he was caught and lifted, carried over to the window.

It was very late, and the streets were almost empty. The window was wide open, and Zhou Jun was held by the ledge, his body trembling with fear. The floor he was on wasn’t low at all—if he fell, he knew he would surely die. He hated this kind of thrill. Zhou Jun’s face drained of color as he clung tightly to Yong Jin, his voice shaky. “Put me down, I don’t want to be here,” he pleaded.

Yong Jin pressed against him, leaning in closer. His burning desire intensified upon seeing Zhou Jun’s terrified expression. He held Zhou Jun without moving, closing his eyes as he lightly inhaled. “Jun Jun, do you smell the flowers?” But Zhou Jun had no mood to smell the flowers; he was so enraged that he felt like he could shoot Yong Jin on the spot.

Yong Jin opened his eyes, his gaze unexpectedly soft. “It seems like it’s not the smell of flowers.” He lifted Zhou Jun down from the window ledge, turning his body to switch positions. Now Yong Jin’s back was against the window, facing away from the outside, making it look like he could fall at any moment. Having escaped from the dangerous height, Zhou Jun felt even more afraid.

He instinctively clutched Yong Jin’s clothing tightly, his fingers turning white from the effort, pleading, “Can’t we change places?” Yong Jin comfortably held him, planting a kiss on his temple, murmuring, “You smell so good.” Saying this, he once again reached for Zhou Jun’s robe, intending to take it off.

Zhou Jun’s face turned pale, unwilling to cooperate properly. But he heard Yong Jin casually say, “You always seem to be afraid of me.” Before Zhou Jun could respond, he felt Yong Jin lean close to his ear: “All it takes is a gentle push from you, and it will all be over.” Zhou Jun didn’t dare to struggle. “Are you crazy?” Yong Jin replied, “If you don’t push, I’m going to do something you don’t want me to do.” Zhou Jun seemed certain, “You really are crazy.”

Yet the man continued to smile wickedly and say, “To die under the peony is to be a charming ghost.”