LIAH 4. Just Kidding

So, Song Shengyang decided to have a proper talk with Pei Siyin.

A square coffee table separated them. Song Shengyang curled up on the corner of the sofa, hugging a lion-shaped pillow, while Pei Siyin pulled over a chair and sat directly across from him.

Song Shengyang kept the lower half of his face buried behind the pillow, his long legs pressed tightly together. Sunlight flooded the living room, pooling at his feet. In that bright warmth, he finally let his gaze linger on Pei Siyin, studying him in earnest before saying a word.

The sunlight cast a soft glow on Pei Siyin’s lovely face. Of course, that part could be temporarily ignored. After all, it was exactly that face that had thrown him off yesterday, and cost him a very important kiss.

His gaze dropped to Pei Siyin’s neck. Only now did he notice the slight protrusion of his Adam’s apple. And today he was wearing short sleeves and shorts, revealing arms that were slender but still carried a hint of muscle.

Still, those legs really were something. Pale and straight, undeniably nice to look at.

Ugh. What the hell was he thinking? What did it matter how good-looking they were? That was a man. A man.

“You done staring?” Pei Siyin’s lips curled into a faint smile. “I meant to tell you yesterday, but there was a bit of an accident.”

No need to spell it out. They both knew what he meant.

Song Shengyang didn’t say a word. He just nodded furiously into the pillow. Pei Siyin’s face was still pointed straight at him, and that stare suddenly made him feel parched. His throat was dry.

Two glasses of watermelon juice sat on the coffee table. Pei Siyin had just brought them out. Song Shengyang’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t dare touch the drink. He was afraid it had been drugged.

“Bro, can I leave now?” he asked cautiously. He knew better than to act cocky in someone else’s home, especially when the door was locked. He kept his tone polite, but the real reason he was still here was obvious.

Pei Siyin stood up and slowly walked over. Song Shengyang instinctively leaned back. Pei Siyin sat down beside him and tugged the pillow out of his arms.

“I’m only twenty,” he said.

Song Shengyang immediately changed his tone. “Little bro, can I leave now?”

Pei Siyin couldn’t help but laugh. He handed him the glass of watermelon juice and said, “Drink it. I didn’t put anything in it.”

How he saw through such a paranoid thought was a mystery, but since he said it out loud, Song Shengyang believed him. He took the glass and downed it in one gulp. His throat did feel much better.

“I’m kidding. I spiked it with an aphrodisiac.”

“What?!” Song Shengyang nearly launched himself off the sofa.

He was doomed. He was about to faint. He was about to be dragged into a bedroom by a man.

Watching him panic and pace in circles by the coffee table, trying to throw up, Pei Siyin barely held back a laugh. He reached out and pulled Song Shengyang back down onto the sofa.

“Let’s talk. If it goes well, I’ll give you the antidote.”

Song Shengyang gave in. He rubbed at his eyes like he was about to cry, even though no tears had actually come out yet. Still, he needed to put on the look.

“You really don’t feel anything at all for men?” Pei Siyin asked.

Maybe he was too shaken, but Song Shengyang didn’t even remember to shove his hand away. He answered honestly, “Really. I really don’t like men.”

“I see.” Pei Siyin didn’t look discouraged. “What about me? When you look at me, do you really feel nothing at all?”

As if that were possible.

If it weren’t for that face, he wouldn’t have been fooled yesterday.

Even without the wig, the length of his hair did nothing to diminish his appeal. Just like Pei Siyin had been drawn to his face the first time they met, it was that same face that had pulled Song Shengyang in.

The quiet room pulsed with the sound of heavy heartbeats. At some point, Pei Siyin had leaned in closer. One hand reached for the stud in Song Shengyang’s ear, the other braced lightly against his chest. His lips brushed his ear as he exhaled a warm breath against the nape of his neck.

A strange and tingling pleasure traveled along his nerves straight to his brain. Song Shengyang broke into a sweat down his back. His thighs were drawn tight. He had long forgotten the part of himself that, just yesterday, could knock out a musclebound gay man with one punch in a bar.

He was convinced now that the aphrodisiac had kicked in fast, too fast. His mind was already starting to unravel.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Pei Siyin nearly lay on top of him. “Are you really sure you don’t feel anything for me?”

Song Shengyang answered. “Maybe I do.”

Pei Siyin smiled. “Where?”

Spring was supposed to be soft and warm, but Song Shengyang felt like he was suffocating in heat. Everything around him felt like summer, sweltering and thick. His body and mind were both on fire.

Too close. Pei Siyin was far too close.

“Is it here?” Pei Siyin’s hand slid between his legs, cupping him fully in his palm. He pressed down and gently kneaded. “This aphrodisiac really works fast.”

A low groan slipped from Song Shengyang’s throat. For once, he didn’t say something stupid. Their breath tangled together, damp and hot, fanning across the sensitive side of his neck. His blood surged all at once when Pei Siyin reached into his pants.

Pei Siyin’s hand felt exactly how Song Shengyang had imagined it. It was soft, warm, and impossibly smooth. His movements were clumsy and clearly inexperienced, but that only made the sensation more unbearable. The unfamiliar touch sent a surge of pleasure through him, and his own hand slid beneath Pei Siyin’s pajama top to wrap around his waist.

Time passed excruciatingly slowly. Pei Siyin’s hand began to ache from the effort, but just as he was about to pull away, Song Shengyang suddenly grabbed his wrist and moved it faster, forcing the rhythm himself. When he finally came, the mess landed entirely on Pei Siyin.

The ringtone from Song Shengyang’s phone began to buzz inside his coat.

It looped a few times. Pei Siyin leaned forward, resting his forehead against Song Shengyang’s chest, then let out a soft laugh.

“Song Shengyang.”

Song Shengyang froze. Then he answered with a quiet, “Yeah.”

Pei Siyin stared at him for a moment, his expression almost content. He didn’t seem to care that his pajamas were now soaked with semen. Instead, he climbed back on top of Song Shengyang. He kept going until the growing bulge between his legs pressed against Song Shengyang’s lower abdomen. Like a restless cat, he rubbed against him with a frustrated little wriggle.

“I lied. I never drugged you.”

“You got hard for me. And I’m a man.”