EIP 16

When he heard Yong Jin call him “Jun Jun,” Zhou Jun felt a sharp jolt of awareness. Everyone else called him Zhou or Stinson—neither too intimate nor too distant, just enough to suggest familiarity. He sat up straighter, adjusted his robe, and cleared his throat lightly before replying with deliberate politeness, “Just call me Zhou Jun.”

That one sentence created a clear distance between them, as if the passionate kisses from a few days ago had never happened. Men often pulled away more quickly than women, especially the ones who were unfaithful. As Zhou Jun reached for his slippers, he caught the shadow of Yong Jin’s gaze and instinctively pulled his legs back a little.

He shifted slightly, reaching for the ashtray beside him. He needed to smoke, or at least do something. That gaze, unblinking and intense, made him feel anxious. Just as his hand brushed the edge of the ashtray, his wrist was caught. Zhou Jun jumped, startled. Both the ashtray and the whip beside it clattered to the floor. Yong Jin leaned in, his face so close their cheeks almost touched.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked.

In the thick night air, Yong Jin’s voice had lost the brightness it usually carried during the day. His breath brushed past Zhou Jun’s skin. Zhou Jun frowned and pulled back slightly. He withdrew his hand from Yong Jin’s grip. The hold was loose and fell away easily. His curls had grown long and untidy, falling into his eyes and blocking his view.

He brushed the hair aside without thinking and finally met Yong Jin’s gaze. It was clear that Yong Jin was displeased—not just at Zhou Jun’s formal attitude but also because he had knocked the whip to the ground. Yong Jin frowned and reached toward Zhou Jun’s neck, his fingers pausing midair before he pulled off his gloves. He preferred the sensation of touching Zhou Jun directly. Ever since their first encounter in this house, he had developed a hunger for that feeling.

Especially the scent Zhou Jun carried. After pushing him against the door and getting into the car, that fragrance had clung to Yong Jin’s clothes for a long time. It was subtle and hard to define, but deeply alluring—just like Zhou Jun himself.

But Zhou Jun was unwilling. He turned his face away, slipping free of Yong Jin’s reach. Even so, the faint scent that belonged only to him spread softly beneath Yong Jin’s nose, teasing him.

Zhou Jun shifted uncomfortably and said, “I’m not scared.” His eyes darted toward the whip on the floor, and he added, “I’ll pick that up for you.”

He tried to stand, planning to circle behind the sofa. But just as he moved, Yong Jin pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him back into the cushions. The leather gave a soft groan beneath his weight.

Yong Jin moved closer. His hand slid from Zhou Jun’s shoulder to his neck, fingers tugging at the knot of his collar. Zhou Jun was wearing a Western-style bathrobe, crossed and tied in front. The deep V-neck revealed part of his chest. Yong Jin’s eyes trailed downward, catching a glimpse of familiar skin that stirred his memory.

Zhou Jun watched as Yong Jin began to pull at the fabric, layer by layer loosening the robe. It felt as if he were about to be unwrapped like a gift. In the past, he might have let things continue, letting the atmosphere carry them forward. But after his brother’s warning and the truth behind Yong Jin’s intentions, Zhou Jun could not allow himself to be swept away.

He knew that if he gave in now, he would be falling into the trap of someone who saw him as a pawn. So he placed a hand over his chest and gripped the end of the robe’s tie still in Yong Jin’s fingers. Slowly, he took it back and adjusted his clothes. Then, with rare determination, he pushed Yong Jin away.

“Major General Yong,” he said calmly, “I really don’t want anything to happen between us.”

As soon as he said it, he silently praised his own restraint. But he forgot that with Yong Jin, no did not mean no. Yong Jin stepped back, and Zhou Jun breathed a sigh of relief. Just when he thought it was over, Yong Jin returned. He picked up the whip and smiled softly.

“So it turns out Jun Jun prefers a rough approach.”

Zhou Jun jumped up from the sofa. One slipper had fallen off, and he was now half barefoot. He darted into the bedroom and tried to slam the door shut behind him. But Yong Jin pushed it open with one firm motion. Zhou Jun could not resist and stumbled back a step. The bedroom was dark, lit only by a faint glow from the hallway.

He forced a laugh. “I don’t like being pushed around.”

Yong Jin paused at the doorway. He did not enter, but he slowly unbuttoned the top of his shirt, letting out a long breath. Zhou Jun fumbled for the switch. The lights came on with a click, flooding the room with brightness. He saw that Yong Jin’s hair was slightly tousled. His open shirt revealed the contours of his chest.

This man was infuriatingly tempting. There was something openly seductive in his presence, paired with the rough impatience of someone whose desires had been denied. Yong Jin licked his lips, leaving a faint shine. Zhou Jun swallowed hard. He regretted turning on the lights. Now that he could see everything so clearly, resisting was even harder.

Yong Jin undid a few more buttons, aware that Zhou Jun’s eyes were still fixed on him. His voice was quiet.

“Come here.”

Zhou Jun hesitated. Yong Jin’s tone softened, like a coaxing whisper.

“Just come over. I won’t tie you up.”

He set the whip aside.

Zhou Jun stepped forward slowly, not entirely willing. But Yong Jin was gentle. He wrapped an arm around Zhou Jun’s waist. Being slightly taller, his lips brushed lightly against Zhou Jun’s nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice low and raspy.

Zhou Jun found him impossible to read. One moment he was threatening, the next he was a gentleman, softly cradling his face. He replied with deliberate sarcasm.

“You broke into my house like this. Does it even matter whether I say yes?”

Yong Jin lowered his head, rubbing his nose against Zhou Jun’s. Their lips hovered near each other, never quite meeting. Zhou Jun felt the brush of his cheek.

“I suppose it’s my fault,” Yong Jin murmured. “If you don’t want to, then you don’t want to.”

But he did not let go. Instead, he leaned closer and breathed against Zhou Jun’s ear. His lips brushed the soft skin before nipping it gently. Zhou Jun’s body tensed. Warmth spread from his ear down his neck. He had been bitten there before, but never so roughly.

Yong Jin tilted his head and began kissing down the side of Zhou Jun’s neck, reaching the hollow of his throat. Zhou Jun tried to retreat but was pulled back. His hands gripped Yong Jin’s shoulders as he let out a soft, trembling breath. Yong Jin tugged at the knot on his robe. The collar loosened, slipping down and exposing his shoulder. His mouth followed, leaving a dark mark against pale skin.

They both paused, breathless. Yong Jin lifted his head and asked again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Zhou Jun’s mind was clouded. His skin was warm, and his resistance was fading. He opened his mouth in silence, a wordless yes.

Somehow, he had been pushed back to the vanity table. It was the same place where they had met the second time. Back then, he had sat at the chair, looking at Yong Jin’s reflection in the mirror.

Now, the chair was in the way. Yong Jin kicked it aside. It wobbled, then crashed to the floor. He lifted Zhou Jun by the waist and placed him on the tabletop. Zhou Jun braced his hands against scattered objects, knocking several of them over in the process.

But Yong Jin stopped just short of touching him. He hovered there, panting.

“You haven’t agreed yet.”

Zhou Jun stared at him in disbelief. This man was too much. Even after all that, he still wanted Zhou Jun to take the initiative. And after everything, Zhou Jun could not hold back anymore. In a rush of frustration and heat, he reached up, cupped Yong Jin’s face, and kissed him with all the passion he had been trying to deny.