Back in the penthouse, the silence pressed down like a held breath.
The mirror stretched from floor to ceiling, unforgiving. It caught everything—the sharp lines of adulthood, the ghosts clinging to them both. Lu Zeyan stood before it yet couldn't bear to look straight on. The reflection felt accusatory, as if it knew too much.
He turned his face aside.
Heat crept up his neck, settled beneath his skin. Shame—old, familiar—curled tight in his chest. The boy he once was flickered in the glass, small and obedient, swallowed by fear. The man he had become didn't know how to stand apart from that shadow.
"Gege…" His voice came out quiet, uneven. "I was just a child back then."
Shen Haoxuan didn't answer immediately.
He turned away from the mirror with deliberate slowness, as if peeling himself from the past. His expression was calm, almost bored—but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
"Oh?" he said lightly.
One step.
Then another.
The space between them vanished.
Lu Zeyan felt Shen before he fully registered him—warmth, pressure, presence. Shen leaned in close from behind, his breath brushing Lu Zeyan's ear, intimate and invasive all at once.
"Back then," Shen murmured, voice low and coaxing, "you were exactly like this."
Lu Zeyan's shoulders stiffened.
Shen pressed closer, his chest deliberately brushing against Lu Zeyan's. It wasn't forceful. It didn't need to be. The familiarity of the contact made Lu Zeyan's breath hitch all the same.
"Still obedient," Shen continued softly.
"And still stupid."
Lu Zeyan turned his head away, cheeks burning, lips parting on a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands curled at his sides, fingers trembling.
Shen noticed everything.
He lifted a hand and slid a finger beneath Lu Zeyan's chin, tilting his face just enough that their eyes met in the mirror. Not directly—never directly. Always through reflection. Always distorted.
"Look at yourself," Shen said. "You never learned how to disobey."
Lu Zeyan swallowed.
He reached up slowly—not to push away—but to catch Shen's wrist. His grip was gentle, reverent. He pressed his lips to Shen's knuckles, once… then again. A habit etched into bone. An offering.
Shen smirked. It was a small, cruel curve of the lips.
That smirk broke Lu Zeyan's restraint. He didn't hold back. He surged forward, his body moving on desperate instinct.
Thud.
Shen's back hit the cold glass of the full-length mirror, a flicker of genuine surprise widening his eyes for a fraction of a second.
"Shen Ge," he said hoarsely. "You know I've never been able to hold back."
Shen didn't push him away. He slid his hand to the back of Lu Zeyan's neck, his grip tightening, grounding him.
"Well," Shen replied lazily, eyes half-lidded, voice rich with indulgence, "I've always liked you best this way."
Lu Zeyan leaned in. He placed a kiss on Shen's lips—feather-light, tentative, a question rather than a demand.
Shen looked at him.
A smile played on his lips, sharp and predatory, almost a sneer, but softened by proximity.
Then, Shen moved.
He grabbed Lu Zeyan's jaw, his fingers digging into the skin, and crushed his mouth against the younger man's.
Lu Zeyan melted instantly. Yet, even in the heat of the moment, his obedience held firm. He didn't dare raise his hands to touch Shen's pristine, freshly buttoned shirt.
He kept his arms at his sides, terrified of ruining the perfection, even as he lost himself in the kiss until Shen finally broke away.
The kiss broke with a wet, heavy sound that seemed to echo in the silent penthouse.
A thin, silver thread of saliva connected them for a heartbeat before breaking, trailing down Shen Haoxuan's chin. His grey eyes were half-lidded, heavy with a lust that looked dangerously like boredom, or perhaps, ownership.
Lu Zeyan pulled back as if burned. The heat of the moment curdled instantly into shame. He turned his head sharply to the side, unable to look at the mess he had made of his god's face.
"I… I am sorry, Ge," Lu Zeyan stammered, his breath hitching. "I didn't mean to—"
"Enough"
The command was soft, but it sliced through Lu Zeyan's panic like a blade.
Shen Haoxuan moved closer, invading the small distance Lu Zeyan had tried to put between them. He didn't wipe his mouth. He wore the evidence of Lu Zeyan's desire like a badge of indifference.
"And what if," Shen purred, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating in the air between them, "I told you to continue?"
Lu Zeyan's eyes widened, the violet irises trembling. He looked back at Shen, confusion warring with a terrifying hope.
Shen slowly raised a hand, pointing a long, elegant finger at his own chest—at the shirt Lu Zeyan had just buttoned with such reverence.
"My clothes," Shen clarified, his lips curling into a challenge. "Take them off."
Lu Zeyan swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Ge… are you really sure about that?"
Shen tilted his head. The air around him turned frigid. "Are you doubting me?"
"No!" Lu Zeyan shook his head violently, his hair falling into his eyes. "Never. I just…" He took a shaky breath. "I'll… I'll be gentle, then."
Shen chuckled. It was a dark, dry sound.
"Did I ever say," Shen whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed Lu Zeyan's ear, "that I want you to be gentle?"
Lu Zeyan felt the blood rush to his face, turning him a deep, burning crimson. His hands, usually so steady when serving tea or holding files, shook uncontrollably as he reached out.
He began to undo the work of his own hands.
One button. Two. The crisp white fabric parted, revealing the pale, smooth skin of Shen's chest.
Shen felt a spike of heat coil in his stomach.
It wasn't just the touch; it was the power. The sight of Lu Zeyan's trembling fingers, undoing the barrier between them, fed a hunger in Shen that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with control.
When the shirt was open, hanging loosely off Shen's shoulders, Shen moved.
He caught Lu Zeyan's hand mid-air.
Lu Zeyan froze.
Shen brought the hand up slowly. He held Lu Zeyan's gaze, his eyes locking onto the younger man's soul, and guided the long, slender fingers toward his mouth.
Lu Zeyan's eyes went wide with shock. He turned the color of a ripe tomato.
Shen opened his mouth and licked.
Once.
Twice.
The sensation was electric. The wet, rough glide of the tongue against the sensitive skin of his fingers sent a jolt straight to Lu Zeyan's groin.
Shen didn't look away. He took the index finger into his mouth, sucking slowly, deliberately, swallowing the digit as if tasting a delicacy.
Lu Zeyan's knees went weak. His fingers
trembled violently in that wet, warm cavern.
"Ge…" he whimpered, the sound wrecked.
Shen withdrew, releasing the finger with a pop.
"Have I given you permission to speak?" Shen asked, his voice smooth and dangerous.
Lu Zeyan shut his mouth instantly, biting his lower lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape.
This was getting worse. Or better. He couldn't tell. The way Shen watched him—like a predator toying with a particularly naive mouse—was overwhelming. The sight of Shen licking him, tasting him, reduced Lu Zeyan to a shivering mess of nerves.
"You are not allowed to do anything," Shen commanded, stepping forward.
Lu Zeyan, overwhelmed by the proximity, instinctively stepped back.
Shen stepped forward again. A predatory dance.
Lu Zeyan hit the edge of the bed behind him. There was nowhere left to run.
Shen placed a flat hand on Lu Zeyan's chest. He didn't shove; he merely applied pressure.
"Down."
Lu Zeyan let himself fall. He collapsed backward onto the vast, silken expanse of the bed, feeling as though his soul had been punched out of his body. He lay there, looking up at the ceiling, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Shen stood over him, a silhouette of terrifying beauty.
With a smirk that could cut glass, Shen reached for his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle undoing was deafening in the silence.
Lu Zeyan, overcome with a sudden, crushing wave of shyness, slapped both hands over his face, hiding his eyes.
"Did I give you permission to close your eyes?" Shen's voice whipped out, sharp and authoritative.
Lu Zeyan flinched. slowly, agonizingly, he parted his fingers.
Through the gaps, he saw it. The masculine, fine lines of Shen's body. The pale skin, the lean muscle. Shen kicked the trousers aside, standing only in his boxers.
It was… ahhhhhh.
Lu Zeyan squeezed his eyes shut again, unable to process the divine sight.
Shen rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Stop acting like, this is your first time."
Of course, it was Lu Zeyan's first time. In a way. He had never touched anyone like this. He had never been allowed to look. His devotion had always been from a distance, a servant in the shadows.
Shen moved. The mattress dipped.
Lu Zeyan felt a weight settle over him. He opened his eyes.
Shen was crawling over him, a predatory cat stalking its prey. He straddled Lu Zeyan's hips, settling his weight down, grounding him completely.
Shen reached out, dragging his fingernails slowly down the front of Lu Zeyan's expensive dress shirt. The sound of the fabric rasping was loud.
Lu Zeyan gulped, his throat dry. He felt like he was floating, untethered.
Suddenly, Shen grabbed the collar of Lu Zeyan's shirt with both hands.
RRRIIIP.
The sound was violent. Buttons popped, flying across the room like shrapnel.
The fabric tore, exposing Lu Zeyan's chest to the cool air of the penthouse.
Lu Zeyan gasped, goosebumps erupting across his skin instantly.
Shen paused, looking down at his handiwork. He leaned back slightly, sitting on Lu Zeyan's thighs, his legs crouched, pinning the younger man effectively.
Lu Zeyan's legs dangled uselessly off the edge of the bed. He tried to scurry back, overwhelmed by the violence.
"Are you afraid?" Shen asked, tilting his head.
Lu Zeyan froze. He didn't know what to do. He was terrified, yes, but he was also inexplicably aroused.
Shen didn't wait for an answer. He leaned forward again, his gaze dropping lower.
He traced a finger along Lu Zeyan's exposed chest, over the frantic beat of his heart, until he stopped at a spot just below the left collarbone.
The skin there was different. Puckered. Shiny. A scar.
"You still have my brand," Shen murmured, his voice losing its edge, becoming almost contemplative.
Shen leaned in low, his hair brushing Lu Zeyan's chin.
He extended his tongue and licked the scar.
Lu Zeyan's eyes fluttered shut.
The sensation was overwhelming—hot breath, wet tongue, the phantom pain of the old burn mixing with the blinding pleasure of the present.
Shen lingered there, worshipping the mark he had indirectly caused. He smirked against the skin, feeling Lu Zeyan writhe beneath him.
Lu Zeyan's entire body arched, a silent testament to the exquisite torment Shen was administering. His control fractured. He snapped his eyes open, desperate to see the architect of his unraveling.
Shen, still positioned above him, smirked. He didn't point to himself this time. He was far more direct.
His hand reached down, deliberate and warm, pressing against the throbbing hardness straining the denim of Lu Zeyan's jeans.
Lu Zeyan gasped, a guttural sound that tore from his chest. "Ah!"
Shen's eyes narrowed, a cold triumph gleaming in the grey depths. "You became this hard? I haven't even started yet."
Lu Zeyan's vision swam, his eyes half-lidded with agonizing pleasure. "Ge… it's too much."
Shen lifted his free hand, pressing a single finger lightly over Lu Zeyan's lips—a soft, imperious shhhh.
Lu Zeyan's eyes widened, recognizing the renewed demand for silence and obedience.
Shen's hand moved down, undoing the button, unzipping the fly.
Lu Zeyan gasped as his erection sprang free. Shen took the full length into his hand, a careful, knowing grip, and began to rub.
He maintained eye contact, his smirk widening as he witnessed the effect of his touch.
Lu Zeyan couldn't bear the sight. He hid his face against the pillow, his voice ragged between sharp gasps and strained moans. "Gege, you don't need to—"
Shen ignored the weak protest. He lowered his head, his hair falling like a dark curtain.
And then, his mouth enclosed him.
Lu Zeyan lost all reason. A guttural sound ripped from him. He lifted his hands, hovering them above Shen's head, battling the desperate, primal urge to push and sink him deeper, to feel the heat consume him whole.
But he maintained the distance, his hands shaking in paralyzed reverence.
Shen worked expertly, his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed with unexpected exertion. He sensed the impending climax on Lu Zeyan's face and took the entire length into his mouth, applying a calculated, final pressure.
Lu Zeyan shattered.
a muffled, desperate shout as he filled Shen's mouth with his seed. The wave of release was so profound it nearly knocked him unconscious.
And then, he heard it—a soft, unimaginable, sloppy groan that echoed in the luxurious room as Shen swallowed.
Shen Haoxuan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glittering with cold satisfaction.
Lu Zeyan, utterly spent and overwhelmed, felt a surge of shame so profound it eclipsed the recent pleasure. He had lost control. He had soiled his Gege.
He braced for the inevitable condemnation, but Shen moved before a word could be uttered.
With a fluid, breathtaking motion, Shen straddled Lu Zeyan's hips. He maneuvered himself, presenting a shocking display of audacious power.
"Stay still," Shen commanded, his voice a low, rough murmur.
Lu Zeyan froze. He felt a tremor run through Shen's body, but he saw the determined smirk—the look of a tyrant unwilling to yield any ground.
Lu Zeyan's eyes went wide with disbelief at the sheer audacity. He watched, stunned, as Shen allowed Lu Zeyan's spent length to fill him completely.
A raw, involuntary groan escaped Shen. He whipped his stylish Wolfcut hair back, tossing his head slightly as he drove himself down fully.
The size was undeniable, huge, and Shen's smirk intensified, a genuine flicker of pleasure mixing with the pride of having mastered the sensation.
Lu Zeyan instinctively lifted his hips, worried, his obedience resurfacing. "Ge, you will hurt yourself like this—"