EIP 42

Yong Jin’s expression was grim, a blend of fatigue and pain. He wanted Zhou Jun gone, out of the house, out of his sight.

If it had been anyone else, Zhou Jun probably wouldn’t have dared to stay. But this was Yong Jin, and he wasn’t just anyone. Instead of leaving, he settled onto the sofa with a calm air, as if he belonged there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

He met Yong Jin’s gaze without flinching, but Yong Jin couldn’t bear to look at him. He turned and started upstairs.

“Stop,” Zhou Jun called out.

Yong Jin paused. Zhou Jun’s voice softened.

“Someone aimed a gun at me earlier. I wasn’t shot, but I did fall and hurt myself. It really hurts, and now you’ve broken the medicine. What about my injury?”

His voice grew more plaintive, laced with a soft, watery tone that made it sound like he might cry at any moment.

Zhou Jun kept his back straight as Yong Jin slowly walked toward him. Each step felt heavy, and his shadow fell over Zhou Jun, who sat on the couch. Yong Jin didn’t come closer. He stopped a few paces away, anger lingering in the silence.

Zhou Jun raised his hand and gently tugged him down. He didn’t use much force, but it was enough to pull Yong Jin to the couch.

He carefully avoided the wounded arm as he eased Yong Jin back into the cushions. His fingers slipped beneath the collar of his shirt, loosening it slightly before pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t know you were hurt when I came. Miss Yang may have saved me in Germany, but I don’t like her. Even during the movie, I kept feeling like something was wrong…”

Zhou Jun let out a long sigh, his gaze still fixed on the gauze wrapped over Yong Jin’s chest.

“I always thought you were invincible. That no one could touch you. But when I sensed something was wrong, I was scared. I left her there and came running, and I know it was thoughtless. I wasn’t trying to appease her. I was just saying sorry. You’re angry because you think I don’t put you first. Is that what you want? For me to put you above everyone else?”

Yong Jin didn’t answer.

Zhou Jun finally lifted his eyes to meet his.

“I do put you first. Everything I said about you getting married was just nonsense. If you ever do get married, I’ll use the knife you gave me to kill you.”

He spoke slowly, almost playfully, but there was unmistakable weight behind the words.

Even Deputy Chen, who had been waiting nearby, was startled by what he overheard. He couldn’t help but glance toward the two men on the couch. What kind of temper did Young Master Zhou have, talking about killing so casually? But Yong Jin showed no sign of fear. The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly, a smile so brief it almost disappeared before it formed. Still, it was enough to tell that Zhou Jun’s words had softened his anger.

Deputy Chen let out a quiet sigh and stepped away, making sure the area was cleared and no idle servants would wander in.

Though Yong Jin remained silent, his tense posture gradually softened. His arms moved on instinct, wrapping around Zhou Jun and pulling him close. Zhou Jun let out a quiet breath, grateful he had finally figured out how to handle him. Yong Jin didn’t respond well to force. He needed gentleness, and a steady hand.

Zhou Jun nuzzled into Yong Jin’s neck, brushing his lips softly along the skin. Yong Jin raised a hand to Zhou Jun’s cheek.

“From now on, don’t have any more contact with her.”

Zhou Jun couldn’t possibly agree to that. Not outright. Severing ties wasn’t so simple. Even if he were willing, his older brother might not be. Rather than respond, he tilted Yong Jin’s chin and kissed him, silencing them both.

The sofa creaked softly as Zhou Jun shifted onto Yong Jin’s lap. Straddling him, he kissed him more deeply, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Their lips moved in a heated rhythm. Zhou Jun, breathless, began to pull back, but Yong Jin caught him, fingers curling behind his neck, unwilling to let him go. Zhou Jun turned his head just slightly, and Yong Jin’s mouth brushed only the corner of his lips. The teasing skin and the glimpse of chest beneath his loosened shirt were enough to drive him wild. He reached for Zhou Jun, but Zhou Jun caught his hand and murmured through uneven breaths, “Careful.”

“Your wound was just treated. You want to see the doctor again already?”

Yong Jin clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.

Zhou Jun caught the look in his eyes and understood exactly what it meant. Since he had already started, he might as well follow through. As the saying went, if you’re sending the Buddha, send him all the way to the West. He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then slid his fingers along Yong Jin’s buttons, his gaze fixed on the desire plain in his face.

“Is anyone going to come in?”

Yong Jin pressed his lips together. Deep down, he didn’t want anything to happen right there on the sofa, but with Zhou Jun straddling him, teasing him inch by inch, his restraint was beginning to fray. Heat gathered low in his abdomen, coiled and restless.

Zhou Jun didn’t wait for an answer. He unbuttoned Yong Jin’s shirt one by one, revealing firm, shadowed muscles beneath the bandage.

He leaned in and ran his tongue lightly over the bandage, then slowly licked lower, brushing along Yong Jin’s abdomen. It was slightly damp with sweat, laced with the faint scent of skin and heat. Just like that time, when Yong Jin had pressed him down and held him there, and the air had been thick with desire, every breath steeped in it, soaking straight into his skin.

Zhou Jun exhaled, face flushed bright red.

Yong Jin couldn’t look away. He cupped his face, his fingers spreading across soft skin, thumb brushing lightly over his lips.

“Back to the bedroom. Not here.”

Zhou Jun heard the reluctance in his voice. It was Yong Jin who had slipped his hand under his shirt just moments ago, and now he was pretending to be the restrained one, as if Zhou Jun were the one who couldn’t hold back.

Zhou Jun pulled his chin from Yong Jin’s grip and said quietly, “I’m not doing this.”

But Yong Jin clearly had no intention of stopping. His fingers pressed into the back of Zhou Jun’s neck, his gaze locked on that mouth. He had kissed it, felt it close around him, warm and wet, drawing him in. He remembered the warmth, the wetness, the sensation of being enveloped and taken in.

Yong Jin closed his eyes, held the image, then opened them again.

He no longer cared if someone might walk in. He wanted that mouth again.

He pressed Zhou Jun’s head against his abdomen.

“Lick.”

Zhou Jun blinked, surprised. He had only meant to help with his hands. He hadn’t expected Yong Jin to press his mouth there so directly, filled with erotic implication.

Lick where?

But of course, Zhou Jun knew. Yong Jin wasn’t looking at his eyes. He was staring at his lips.

Zhou Jun was never one to care about appearances. He noticed the wound again and murmured, “Don’t move recklessly. If it starts bleeding, I won’t continue.”

“I won’t,” Yong Jin said.

“If it hurts, you have to tell me.”

“It doesn’t.”

Yong Jin reached for his belt, unfastened it, and pulled the zipper down. The fabric parted to reveal a silk waistband, already stretched taut by the outline of his arousal. The scent in the air grew thicker.

Zhou Jun placed his hand firmly on Yong Jin’s thigh and leaned in, licking over the silk with a lazy smile.

“Not a bad taste.”

Zhou Jun had always been sensitive. His mouth, though soft and skilled, couldn’t handle as much as his body. If it went in too deep, he would get irritated, his eyes would redden, and his throat would ache. Still, he knew what he was doing. His tongue moved expertly, lips wrapping smoothly around the tip.

Yong Jin’s breath grew heavier. He resisted the urge to move, terrified that if he pushed too far, Zhou Jun would never do it again.

But holding back only made the fire burn hotter. Hormones surged, clouding the air. That thing was too big for Zhou Jun’s mouth. He struggled to take it in. Saliva spilled down the shaft, soaking the dark hair at the base.

He looked up at Yong Jin, eyes wide, unable to look away.

Major General Yong, usually so composed, now sat engulfed in lust. His breath came in sharp gasps. A thin sheen of sweat had formed along his brow, and a droplet slid down the bridge of his nose, catching on the tip before falling.