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A Kiss out of Lust

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Zhan Yao glares at his reflection in the mirror, cursing Bai Yutong’s mysophobia and his sadistic cleanliness. Zhan Yao’s not that much taller than Bai Yutong, but his legs are proportionally longer and the borrowed trousers end halfway down his lower leg. He’s not even addressing the multiple inches that need removing from the waist to not look like a school boy that’s had a sudden growth spurt. Combined with the too big t-shirt, it makes him feel ridiculous. Zhan Yao is seriously tempted to just go out in his lounge pants and hope the club will be dark enough to hide his mortification.

He catches sight of Yutong in the open doorway and glares at him. “Do not say a word.”

He expects Yutong to laugh - certainly Zhan Yao would have done if the tables were turned - but the look in his eyes, while familiar, is definitely not mirth. It’s a look Zhan Yao loves and loathes in equal measure. He loves the way it makes him feel like he’s the only person Yutong sees, like he’s owned and desired so much that Yutong can’t help but touch him. He loathes it because he has no resistance to it at all.

Yutong stalks up to him until Zhan Yao can feel the warmth that radiates from him, and the charged expectation in the air raises goosebumps across his skin. Yutong raises a hand, his touch firm as it trails a path across his ribs, upward still until he can push aside the too-large collar of the t-shirt. Yutong’s fingers trail meandering paths across his exposed skin while his lips press feather-light along Zhan Yao’s jaw.

“Bai Yutong! We’ll be late.” It’s a token protest. Zhan Yao long ago learned that his ability to resist Yutong when he’d set his mind on something was practically non-existent. It got them into trouble as children, but these days he’s more appreciative of the rewards.

Yutong just hums, the vibration tickling the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark.” Zhan Yao tangles his fingers in Yutong hair as the lips softly caress his neck, but he makes no move to pull him away, his body a far more willing participant than his conscience.

“I have polo necks,” Yutong mutters.

He fails to repress his shudder as Yutong’s teeth graze his skin, and gives up his protests entirely when Yutong’s hand slips under the too-large waistband of the borrowed trousers.