The slight feeling of suffocation caused Ji Mian’s mind to start spinning, as both his senses and rationality indulged in this alluring asphyxiation.
Reflected in his eyes was Duan Zhuang's slightly lowered brows and eyes. As their breaths intertwined, Ji Mian heard the intense sounds of their kissing echoing in the closed space.
This sound made his face flush instantly.
He unconsciously clenched Duan Zhuang’s outerwear, wanting to stop and give himself a moment to breathe. But Duan Zhuang’s hand was already firmly gripping his waist, the other hand pulling at the back of his neck, leaving him no space to retreat.
The wet sounds of their lips and tongues entangled, Duan Zhuang’s restrained moans, and the sounds spilling from Ji Mian’s own throat…
Ji Mian’s ears burned with embarrassment, his breathing becoming increasingly difficult. His mind dulled, lost in the haze of desire.
When he finally regained some clarity, he realized he was tightly locked in Duan Zhuang’s embrace, pressed against a bed that emitted a fragrant scent of detergent.
His backpack and jacket were tossed to the floor at some point, but Ji Mian couldn’t recall how all of this had happened.
The reason he came back to his senses was because Duan Zhuang’s palm, which had slipped under his sweater, was hot.
“Hmm…” The hands roaming at his waist and chest sent a tingling shiver through Ji Mian’s skin, and his breathing suddenly quickened, “Don’t…”
After a few seconds, Duan Zhuang’s kiss stopped, giving Ji Mian a moment to catch his breath and regain his senses.
With his fingers clutching the sheets beside Ji Mian, he gritted his teeth and gave the latter a chance to back out, “If you want to run, you can still do it now.”
“Run…” Ji Mian panted, the moisture on his lips ambiguous, a mist rising in his eyes.
In a daze, he asked, “…Run from what?”
Duan Zhuang stared at him, looking for a few seconds, then suddenly said, “Now, you can’t run.”
His kiss fell again, pressing against the corners of Ji Mian’s lips.
As he tried to deepen the kiss, Ji Mian turned his head away.
Duan Zhuang’s movements froze, his whole body tensing, remaining still. It was as if Ji Mian dared to utter a single “no,” and he would immediately get up and leave.
“…I don’t like the smell of smoke.” Ji Mian tilted his head back, the curve of his neck and collarbone beautifully framed in the orange light, imbued with a layer of alluring temptation.
In truth, Duan Zhuang’s tongue didn’t have much of a smoke taste, and kissing him didn’t feel unpleasant. But Ji Mian simply disliked that little flaw in their kiss.
His instincts told him he didn’t have to endure this; in this moment, this person had to listen to him.
Or rather, for a long time to come, his brother had to listen to him.
“…”
After a moment of silence, Duan Zhuang spoke in a hoarse voice, “Then I won’t kiss you.”
He turned to kiss Ji Mian’s neck and collarbone, cheeks, and the tip of his nose, leaving light red marks on his fair skin.
Several times he wanted to kiss Ji Mian’s lips, but because of that “I don’t like” he could only detour around the forbidden zone.
For the next two hours, Ji Mian realized how strange things became without kisses accompanying their actions.
He could clearly hear the broken sounds coming from his throat, with a somewhat high pitch.
Ji Mian had never known he could make such odd sounds.
He felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, but Duan Zhuang’s reactions only grew stronger as a result.
Halfway through, Ji Mian suddenly felt uncomfortable, sticky all over. His cleanliness disorder surfaced belatedly.
“Brother. I feel dirty; I want to take a shower.”
Duan Zhuang was still inside him, his body tense, and Ji Mian saying this at that moment was tantamount to demanding his life.
He almost immediately gave an answer.
“No.”
After a pause, he lowered his voice and said, “Later.”
Ji Mian didn’t know what “later” meant, only remembering that for a long time after, Duan Zhuo’s “later” never came true.
…
The bedroom curtains were not drawn, but the morning sun at ten o’clock easily passed through the fabric, casting light into the room.
Ji Mian’s consciousness slowly awakened from his dreams, his eyelids gradually opening.
Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, their figure blocking the light filtering through the curtain.
Duan Zhuang was wearing a gray thin sweater, clearly already washed and tidied up, and was turned to the side, looking at him.
The moment Ji Mian opened his eyes, he met Duan Zhuang’s gaze. He didn’t know for how long the other had been staring at him.
Is watching someone sleep really that interesting? Ji Mian silently pulled the blanket up, covering half his face.
A light smile floated in Duan Zhuang’s eyes as he saw Ji Mian awake and curved his lips.
“Good morning.”
He had never greeted Ji Mian like this before.
Ji Mian’s face turned red instantly.
Why has his brother changed so much?
Duan Zhuang’s fingers resting on the bed moved slightly, as if he wanted to reach out and touch Ji Mian’s face. But for some reason, he didn’t do so.
“Brother, when did you wake up?”
“Didn’t sleep.”
“Oh.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
Duan Zhuo stared at him for a while.
“Last night… did you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
“No.”
Duan Zhuo paused for a moment.
“Was it comfortable?”
“…”
Ji Mian choked, closing his mouth tightly.
He felt that his brother was actually trying to ask that latter question.
Oh my god, how can this person…
Ji Mian’s internal complaints hadn’t found a suitable description, but there was one not-so-pleasant word that fit perfectly with Duan Zhuo at that moment.
…So “flirtatious.”
Ji Mian didn’t want to describe him this way.
His gaze inadvertently swept to the back of Duan Zhuang’s ears, which were very red.
Ji Mian was stunned for a moment, thinking: so his brother can be shy too.
After a while, he said, “I want to get up.”
Duan Zhuang was dressed, looking very presentable sitting in front of him, while he was nestled under the blanket naked.
Ji Mian felt a little awkward.
Duan Zhuang walked to the wardrobe, took out some clothes, and before handing them to Ji Mian, he proactively asked, “Do you want me to help you?”
“...No. Can you turn around, brother?”
Duan Zhuang lowered his eyes, reluctantly turning his back.
Ji Mian quickly put on his sweater but struggled a bit when getting dressed below.
He endured the soreness and discomfort in his thighs, finally getting out of bed two minutes later, bypassing Duan Zhuang
“Where are you going?” Duan Zhuang asked.
“To wash up.” Ji Mian said, not looking at him as he dashed into the bathroom and quickly shut the door, pressing both hands on the sink.
He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling a kind of relaxed relief as if he had survived a disaster.
So strange…
Ji Mian pressed down on his wildly beating heart.
He didn’t even dare to look into Duan Zhuang’s eyes, feeling as if there were swirling, captivating depths in those eyes filled with laughter.
Just yesterday, Ji Mian was still contemplating how to greet Duan Zhuang when he returned on the train. But this morning, they woke up in the same bed, hearing Duan Zhuang cheerfully say “good morning.”
Their relationship had changed too quickly, all in just one night.
Ji Mian bit his lip, feeling very unaccustomed to it.
This was the result of his moment of impulse, and even he couldn’t figure out why everything last night felt so natural. He didn’t even have the slightest bit of resistance.
But did he regret it? Not really.
In the enclosed space without Duan Zhuang, Ji Mian had just calmed down a bit when his gaze inadvertently fell on the showerhead inside the glass door, and suddenly he recalled: yesterday they had showered here…
“…”
His body immediately felt hot again.
He hurriedly turned his face away, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on his face to cool down.
…
When Ji Mian finished washing up and came out, Duan Zhuang was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking over as soon as he heard the sound.
Their eyes met, and Ji Mian blinked twice, “Brother?”
Why was he staring at him?
Duan Zhuang’s throat moved.
He started regretting getting up too early; otherwise, the person in front of him wouldn’t be sitting here but would be in his arms.
As someone who had just had an intimate encounter with Duan Zhuang the night before, Ji Mian clearly knew what the other was thinking.
After a moment of silence, he spoke softly, “It’s still… morning.”
To Duan Zhuang, this sounded like another invitation.
He stared at Ji Mian unblinkingly but didn’t make a move.
Ji Mian felt that his brother wanted to get up and hug him but, for some reason, did not do so.
Just like how Duan Zhuang had woken up early today, dressed, and sat beside him.
This person is being cautious about something...
Ji Mian suddenly remembered the hug he owed Duan Zhuang on that early winter night; that wet and cold, lonely back always appeared repeatedly in his dreams.
It felt as if he had returned to that night, where the chilly early winter wind pierced through his lips that were about to speak, causing a bit of pain in his throat.
After a moment of daze, Ji Mian unknowingly walked in front of Duan Zhuang.
He was standing above, while Duan Zhuang was sitting on the edge of the bed, needing to look up at him.
From the beginning, the initiative in their relationship was in Ji Mian's hands.
He was the one who granted Duan Zhuang power, including all that had happened last night.
As long as he wanted, he could now end their relationship and treat everything that happened last night as an impulsive accident.
Duan Zhuang was not being cautious about anything; he was simply waiting for Ji Mian's approval, silently awaiting a verdict of acquittal or death.
Realizing this, Ji Mian felt a dull pain in his heart.
He leaned down and actively wrapped his arms around Duan Zhuang's neck. Immediately after, Duan Zhuang's arm tightened around his waist.
Duan Zhuo kissed his ear.
“Ji Mian.”
“Mm.”
“Do you regret it?”
“……”
Ji Mian released his arms around Duan Zhuang's neck, placing both hands on his shoulders and chest to support himself, silently gazing into Duan Zhuang's deep, anxious eyes.
His hand pressed against Duan Zhuang's chest, feeling the strong heartbeat beneath the solid muscles—it was actually fast from tension.
He gently inhaled, lowered his head, and pressed a soft kiss on Duan Zhuang's lips. “No, brother.”
“Never.”
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