13. The Persistence of Memory Part 2

Lu Zhengming didn’t attend the graduation exhibition, and he was absent from the department’s group photo as well. He shut himself inside his studio, painting day and night for several days. His body was exhausted, but his mind felt light.

He felt freer than ever before.

As he had anticipated, his new piece was a success. Lu Zhengming opened the refrigerator, looking for a can of beer to celebrate, only to find a few bottles of mineral water. He searched the entire studio but couldn’t locate any alcohol.

Feeling a bit disappointed, he started to consider which bar to visit for some indulgence. He only wanted a drink, not lustful games. Having poured his passion into his art, he wasn’t in the mood for anything else at the moment.

Lu Zhengming recalled something from his middle school sex-ed class: “Elevate base urges through refined pursuits.” Ironically, the teacher who had taught that class was also the first person to awaken his sexual desires.

That teacher didn’t quite look Chinese. His hair was slightly brown, his eye sockets deep-set, and his nose narrow and sharply defined. He looked a bit like an actor named Adrien Brody… and a bit like Yin Yan.

Yin Yan again.

No matter how hard Lu Zhengming tried to banish him from his thoughts, the man always found his way back into his mind. Frustrated, Lu Zhengming rubbed his face, changed into a fresh T-shirt, and pushed open the door of his studio.

Yin Yan was standing right outside.

He was turned slightly sideways, one foot stepping forward as though mid-stride. When their eyes met, Yin Yan froze, looking startled. His expression carried a trace of anxiety and restlessness.

But in the next moment, he regained his composure. He walked up to the door, smiled like an old friend, and held up a paper bag containing a bottle of brandy.

Now, it was Lu Zhengming’s turn to face a dilemma. He didn’t know whether to invite him in or shut the door, and he stood frozen in the doorway.

Yin Yan took another step closer and placed one hand lightly on Lu Zhengming’s chest.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Cut the crap.”

Lu Zhengming’s mind screamed with the urge to push him away, to throw him out. But the moment that hand pressed down with a little more force, he found himself being gently but firmly pushed back inside the studio.

His lonely body betrayed him. It welcomed the familiar presence, “It’s been too long.” By the time his consciousness caught up, Lu Zhengming’s hands were already inside Yin Yan’s shirt, his tongue tracing familiar paths inside his mouth.

Yin Yan chuckled, keeping their lips pressed together as he tossed the bottle of expensive brandy onto the couch. They kissed their way to the bedroom, tumbling together onto the bed.

He straddled Lu Zhengming, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, his bare skin bathed in the spotlight’s glow. Lu Zhengming felt like his entire body was radiating light, so blinding that it made his head spin. Unable to take it, he flipped them over, pinning him beneath his body, using his own shadow to envelop him before daring to cast his gaze downward.

Fresh whip marks scattered across Yin Yan’s skin jolted him awake in an instant.

Lu Zhengming slapped him hard across the face. “This is what you wanted, right? They couldn’t satisfy you?”

The slap struck hard, snapping Yin Yan’s upper body to the side as color bloomed across his cheek. He remained silent, his face buried in the bedsheet, bracing for the humiliation to come.

Had Lu Zhengming taken a closer look at the marks, he would have noticed that their angles and patterns couldn’t have come from someone else. They were self-inflicted.

Without enough pain, Yin Yan couldn’t climax.

Like a devout Puritan, Yin Yan had lashed himself, praying not to God, but to Lu Zhengming, the Lu Zhengming who wielded the whip in his fantasies. He knew these marks would enrage him, and he had done it deliberately. Even if it was just to vent his anger, Lu Zhengming would give him everything he wanted. As he cursed his own perversion, he shamelessly exploited him.

“You won’t control me again…”

Lu Zhengming pulled away. When he returned, he was holding a pair of black leather handcuffs.

Yin Yan obediently offered his hands, his heart pounding with anticipation for the feast to come. This was the first time Lu Zhengming had used proper restraints on him, and it overlapped perfectly with the scenes in his fantasies. He brought his wrists closer, studying the fine details of the cuffs. The polished metal reflected a flushed, enraptured face, one that was greedily savoring the scent of leather.

Overcome with desire, he knelt on the bed, lowering his waist while raising his hips into a sycophantic curve, exposing the secret nestled between his cheeks, a silver anal plug.

Lu Zhengming had the urge to slap him again. Just how shameless was this man to claim he wasn’t lewd?

He clenched his fists, pressing his knuckles to ease the aching soreness, barely holding onto his rationality. Using what little restraint he had left, he flipped Yin Yan over and hooked him onto the headboard.

Yin Yan raised both hands high above his head and spreads his legs to an obscene width.

“Am I sincere enough?”

Lu Zhengming’s brain and cock throbbed simultaneously, his clenched fists swelling with tension. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between Yin Yan’s legs. His fingers tapped against the metallic base of the plug, his dark eyes revealing an unreadable depth.

“I’m all ready. You can just go in—ah—!”

Lu Zhengming abruptly pulled out the plug, a stream of clear fluid trailing behind. The loosened entrance twitched as if trying to retain it, only to release more.

Yin Yan half-closed his eyes, moaning seductively. “I want you…”

But the more he performed, the calmer Lu Zhengming became. He dipped a finger into the slick liquid, then smeared it across Yin Yan’s face.

“Alright. But how you get it isn’t up to you.”

Yin Yan nodded, caught between the agony and anticipation of getting what he wanted. He didn’t enjoy anal sex, especially being penetrated. It left him with a deep-seated sense of resistance, as if it touched something within him he didn’t want to acknowledge. But to win over Lu Zhengming, he was willing to sell his body.

If the other man showed even a hint of hesitation, he was prepared to sell even more, perhaps whispering wicked lies like, “I like you,” or even, “I love you,” using those words to worm his way into Lu Zhengming’s heart and turn him into his exclusive sadistic plaything.

But the torment he imagined never came.

Lu Zhengming sighed. He cupped Yin Yan’s face and kissed him again. The kiss was impossibly tender, without aggression or seduction. He was patient, peeling away the mask with the gentlest touch. He didn’t need perfect submission. He wanted to see raw, unfiltered desire.

For Yin Yan, this was harder to endure than brutality.

It reminded him of being a child when someone told him that if he jumped from the stairs, a pair of arms would catch him. He never believed it. He was convinced that falling from a height meant nothing but broken bones and pain. He never allowed himself to hope for anything else. So when the day came that he truly tumbled down the stairs, and the pain of his fractured bones became a reality, he felt reassured.

But he had underestimated Lu Zhengming’s patience.

It was the longest kiss he had ever received in his life, so long that his suspended wrists went numb, his vision blurred. Instinctively, he leaned closer, then suddenly caught himself and pulled away, distancing himself with a cold indifference. Again and again, he repeated this, until even he grew exhausted by his own resistance.

So he fought back. Twisting his body, dodging, using his teeth and knees to attack Lu Zhengming’s vulnerable spots, anything to keep himself from sinking into this unfamiliar softness. He wanted to anger him, to provoke his aggression, to bait out the violent reaction he was used to. Even if it was out of rage, being fucked in retaliation was easier than enduring this torment.

But this was precisely Lu Zhengming’s revenge.

He was torturing him in his own way, with the gentlest, sweetest cruelty.

By the time Yin Yan realized it, his body had already betrayed him. No matter how fiercely his mind resisted, he had been soaked in Lu Zhengming’s warmth for too long, softened until he could no longer fight it. His body surrendered to the agonizing pleasure.

“Zhengming… Zhengming…”

He called his name helplessly, the safe word that had long since lost its meaning. He begged, he cursed, yet his body only pleaded for more, for something filthier, something rougher.

His legs hooked around Lu Zhengming’s, his cock grinding against his stomach, smearing their arousal between them. The pleasure of kisses and caresses seeped into his skin, sank into his muscles, corroding his defenses like a sinking ship riddled with holes.

He couldn’t face his own collapse. He wanted to hide his dazed, intoxicated expression, but his hands were bound, leaving his desire exposed under the glaring light.

“Stop kissing me, Zhengming… Don’t touch me…”

Lu Zhengming chuckled, and did exactly the opposite.

For every ‘don’t,’ he pressed another kiss, mapping out his most sensitive spots, dismantling what little resistance he had left until his protests turned into near-silent gasps.

“Yin Yan,” Lu Zhengming murmured against his hip bone, his breath teasing the fine hairs there. “I’d say you want this.”

Yin Yan let out a low, broken moan.

“Got it.” Lu Zhengming took the cue, lowering his head, locking eyes with him and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

Yin Yan shuddered, his voice caught in his throat.

“You want it?” Lu Zhengming kissed him again, but before he could answer, his tongue was already tracing over him.

Yin Yan watched himself harden, swell, the tip flushing red as beads of clear liquid seeped out. He saw Lu Zhengming take him into his mouth, tasting him carefully as if trying to discern every nuance of his flavor.

A broken moan spilled from Yin Yan’s lips. He tried to feign weakness, hoping for some mercy, but Lu Zhengming saw right through him.

“Who was it that said he couldn’t feel anything? That he couldn’t enjoy this?”

His whole body trembled, every muscle beyond his control, cold sweat soaking the sheets beneath him. He couldn’t let go and lose himself in pleasure, not without some thread of pain to anchor him, to make him feel safe.

But to Lu Zhengming, Yin Yan looked utterly lost in ecstasy.

So he took a deep breath and swallowed him to the base, using everything he knew to serve him. Between the slow, deliberate motions of his mouth, his hands never stopped stroking his tense body, soothing him, encouraging him, praising him.

“Feels good, doesn’t it…? How about this…? You look so fucking sexy like this, I love it…”

“No.. please, Zhengming… I can’t—”

Yin Yan gasped, words spilling out in disarray. His legs kicked helplessly against Lu Zhengming’s back, trying to push him away, trying to run, but the sweat made everything slippery, his escape attempts failing over and over.

He had wanted this to be a simple transaction. Purely physical, straightforward, like capturing any of his past conquests. But pleasure was a burden too heavy to bear. He didn’t want it, he couldn’t handle it. And when it came from Lu Zhengming, it was even more unbearable.

But his body refused to listen.

Lu Zhengming hadn’t even moved, yet he was already thrusting into his mouth, chasing something uncontrollable, lost in the torment of overwhelming pleasure and panic.

Dizzy with sensation, he looked down and met Lu Zhengming’s gaze.

Just like all those years ago, there was a quiet fatigue in his eyes, and when they curved into a smile, the sharpness disappeared completely.

“Ah—!”

Everything snapped.

Pleasure hit him like a storm, but pain crashed through his chest with equal force. The bliss tore through his body like a gust of wind, only to vanish just as fast, leaving nothing behind but emptiness and a crushing sense of guilt.

“You came so much…”

Yin Yan stared in a daze as Lu Zhengming swallowed every last drop. A suffocating weight pressed down on him, drowning him in the aftermath.