EIP 43

The restless heart of Young Master Zhou urged him to work even harder, taking the cock in deeper. He kept sneaking glances, and the more he looked, the more mesmerized he became. Yong Jin looked even more thrilling tonight. Maybe it was because of the argument. Maybe it was the sympathy he felt after everything Yong Jin had been through. Or maybe it was that quiet sense of connection neither of them ever spoke aloud.

Lost in thought, Zhou Jun momentarily loosened his focus. Yong Jin, displeased, pushed deeper into his mouth before pulling back slowly, his movement firm and unhurried. The pressure made Zhou Jun’s cheeks flush with heat. When he finally withdrew, strands of saliva clung between them. His tongue flicked over his lips, tracing the lingering taste.

Still panting, he reached out to hold the thick length just in front of him and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong? You haven’t finished yet.”

As soon as he touched it, it twitched, warm and sticky in his palm. He stroked him steadily, wanting to make him come.

But Yong Jin stopped him.

“Come up.”

Zhou Jun played dumb. “Let me use my hand. It’ll be quick.”

Yong Jin exhaled hard, sweat trailing down his temples. Holding Zhou Jun’s wrist, he softened his voice. “Come up. Let me touch you. I won’t go in.”

How could Zhou Jun believe that? Yong Jin always said he wouldn’t go in. And yet, every time, he ended up suffering.

There was nothing in the hall to use as lubricant, and Zhou Jun still hesitated. But Yong Jin knew how to seduce. His scent was dizzying. His skin burned hot against him. Kisses brushed over his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the edges of his ears. Then Yong Jin captured his mouth completely, tongue pressing deep inside.

By the time Zhou Jun came back to his senses, his pants had been pulled halfway down. His long legs were exposed, waistband caught around his knees. His underwear remained, and something hard pressed between his thighs, dragging forward with slow, teasing friction. The shaft was thick and wet, and with just a few strokes, Zhou Jun’s loose-fitting underwear clung tightly to him. He was hard too.

He gripped the sofa with both hands, struggling to brace himself as Yong Jin’s movements grew rougher. He gasped, “Someone might come. Yong Jin, stop it.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, his shirt was pushed up and gathered at his collarbone. His chest was bare, completely exposed to Yong Jin’s burning gaze.

Zhou Jun had told him to stop. But when Yong Jin’s hand reached his chest, he couldn’t help but crave more. the haze, he felt one nipple drawn into Yong Jin’s mouth while the other was rolled between his fingers, sending sparks racing through his nerves. Something toppled to the floor, landing with a muffled thud on the carpet.

His body jolted. Some clarity returned.

“I—I think someone’s here,” he stammered.

But Yong Jin didn’t let go. He held Zhou Jun’s waist steady and kept grinding between his legs. Still not satisfied, he reached into Zhou Jun’s underwear and pressed forward, recklessly pushing against the tight entrance and sliding inside.

Zhou Jun was terrified someone might come in, but what unsettled him even more was the way Yong Jin looked at him. His eyes were red, and the bandage on his arm had begun to soak through with fresh blood. That was what finally pushed Zhou Jun into panic. He raised his hand and slapped him. It wasn’t hard, but the sharp crack cut through the air.

Yong Jin stared at Zhou Jun, stunned. He couldn’t believe he had been slapped. Across the face. By Zhou Jun.

Both of them went still.

Zhou Jun looked down at his hand, then at Yong Jin’s face, where the red imprint stood out starkly. Panic rose in his chest. He had never forgotten how frightening Yong Jin could be, how he’d pulled a gun on him the first time they fought. That assertiveness was still there.

He braced himself, expecting Yong Jin to snap again, to yell at him, or throw him out like before. Yong Jin had always been proud, not someone who accepted offense easily. Zhou Jun looked away and curled his fingers into his palm, quietly hiding his hand behind his back.

But Yong Jin didn’t shout.

He just sat back, looked away, and muttered, “Fine. I got it. I won’t touch you.”

Zhou Jun’s clothes were disheveled. He tugged up his pants, his body still flushed and heavy with need. He reached to adjust his shirt, but Yong Jin stopped him.

“Bite onto your clothes.”

Zhou Jun grabbed the fabric and looked confused.

“You’re not angry?”

Yong Jin gave a small smile.

“Why would I be?”

Zhou Jun blinked. “But I hit you.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

Yong Jin’s voice was calm. Unbothered.

Zhou Jun stared at him, surprised. He had always thought Yong Jin was sharp-tempered and petty. But now, seeing him so calm, he felt something stir in his chest. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow, he felt more important. More real.

His mood improved, and he no longer resisted. He bit down on his shirt and exposed his pale chest. Bruises and shallow marks from the past few days were still faintly visible on his skin, giving him a raw, vulnerable look.

Yong Jin couldn’t help but think of that time in Zhou Jun’s house, when he had pinned him down and pressed into him hard. Zhou Jun’s body had been covered in the same kinds of marks.

Back then, he had tried to act tough. His eyes were red, full of defiance on the surface, but underneath, he was soft. Eventually, he gave in, letting Yong Jin take what he wanted.

Zhou Jun knew how to play to desire. He lay there now, letting himself be looked at, his nipples already swollen and sensitive. Yong Jin hadn’t even touched him yet. Just the heat of his stare was enough to make Zhou Jun ache.

And he had been sucked there before. That was why they were so swollen now. It was shameful to be this exposed, but Yong Jin wasn’t looking away. He was watching him with frightening intensity, his uninjured hand slowly stroking himself, eyes focused on Zhou Jun like he was prey.

Zhou Jun had felt a flicker of shame at first, but it quickly faded. He leaned back into the sofa, no longer resisting the weight of Yong Jin’s gaze. Slowly, he let the shirt slip from his mouth.

He held the damp fabric lightly in both hands. His ring and pinky fingers brushed close to one nipple. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the way Yong Jin’s gaze deepened. His pupils were darker now, harder to read.

What was he thinking? Did Yong Jin want him to touch himself? Was he waiting for that last barrier to fall?

Zhou Jun gave in to the moment. He rested against the cushions, body limp and bare, watching Yong Jin drown in desire. The sight was beautiful and filthy. Sweat clung to his abdomen. Veins stood out faintly on his forearms. His temples were damp. His lashes were long, and the outer corners of his eyes slanted slightly upward. Normally so sharp, his gaze had lost its edge. It stirred something deep and slow.

Zhou Jun set his clothes aside and leaned closer. He licked the curve of Yong Jin’s throat, his arm sliding around him. Just moments ago, he had refused to be touched. Now, he was offering himself completely.

Yong Jin could no longer wait. He clenched his teeth. His hips moved faster. His balls tightened, the heat in his belly coiling tight.

Zhou Jun kissed along his neck and ear, biting hard enough to leave marks. Yong Jin’s body trembled. Then he pushed him. down.

Zhou Jun let out a gasp of surprise as his waistband was roughly pulled down, a chill was quickly followed by warmth. In that frenzy moment, forced his member into Zhou Jun’s crevice, aiming at his entrance, and released everything.