Xing Yu crossed the short distance between them without hurry. His cold steel grey eyes watching him like a prey.
That was the worst part. Jian had already braced himself for being grabbed, for the answering force he'd been demanding since the dining hall. Instead, Xing Yu stopped in front of him and looked down at him with an expression that made Jian's stomach drop straight through the floor.
"Dangerous for who?" he repeated, soft.
Jian opened his mouth to say something clever.
Xing Yu's hand came up and cupped his jaw, thumb dragging along his cheekbone, and the clever thing died in his throat.
"You," Xing Yu said.
He kissed him.
Not like the careful kisses Xing Yu had been rationing out for months, the ones that ended too soon with a polite half-step backward.
This one landed with the full weight of a man who had spent five years holding himself back.
