Shen immediately leaned forward, crushing the space between them.
He ignored the plea for caution. Instead, he crashed his mouth against Lu Zeyan's, a collision of teeth and heat.
His kiss was rough, punishing. His tongue invaded Lu Zeyan's mouth, twisting with an arrogant demand for submission.
Lu Zeyan held back, his hands hovering uncertainly over the sheets. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation, letting Shen do exactly what he intended. He endured the sweet torture between sharp, ragged gasps, refusing to slow the rhythm even as his mind began to fracture.
Shen broke the kiss, pulling back with a smirk that was equal parts cruelty and pleasure. He whipped his head back, his stylish wolfcut hair flying in a dark halo, as he rode Lu Zeyan with renewed vigor.
Lu Zeyan looked up at him, his cheeks stained a deep, burning crimson. He could only watch. He could only endure the beautiful tyrant above him.
"Sit," Shen commanded, the word punched out between rough gasps. "Sit up."
Lu Zeyan, dizzy from the overwhelming sensory overload, obeyed instantly. He engaged his core, sitting up carefully to meet Shen.
Shen wasted no time. He placed both hands firmly on Lu Zeyan's broad shoulders, digging his fingers in as anchors. Then, he began to move harder.
He rode Lu Zeyan with a merciless intensity, grinding down with a friction that threatened to make Lu Zeyan lose his mind completely.
Shen threw his head back again, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat, lost in his own rhythm.
"Ge…" Lu Zeyan gulped, the word barely audible.
Shen looked down, his grey eyes half-lidded and hazy with lust. He smirked, leaning in close to whisper against Lu Zeyan's ear.
"Dear Zey," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension and desire. "You are not allowed to do anything on your own."
Lu Zeyan felt his control snap. The sensation was too intense, the visual of Shen bouncing on him too erotic. He felt the pressure building at the base of his spine.
"Ge… I…" He tried to warn him. He was close.
Shen didn't listen. He didn't care.
And lu zeyan, was dying to touch those masculine hips, to feel the raw power of the man above him. He found the position intoxicating, satisfying a hunger he rarely acknowledged.
Lu Zeyan's eyes grew teary with the sheer effort of restraint. "Ge… let… let me—"
Shen smirked, a challenge in his eyes. "You can't stay still, will you?"
This time, obedience failed. Instinct took over.
Lu Zeyan moved.
With a sudden surge of strength, he gripped Shen's waist and flipped them. The world spun. In a heartbeat, Shen was on his back, sinking into the mattress, and Lu Zeyan was looming above him.
"Ge," Lu Zeyan breathed, his voice dropped to a dangerous baritone. "Let me."
Shen rolled his eyes, feigning a look of utter boredom, as if being manhandled was a daily inconvenience rather than a thrill.
"If you disappoint me," Shen warned, his voice steady despite his racing heart, "you know what will happen."
Lu Zeyan nodded solemnly. "Yes."
"Then continue."
Lu Zeyan didn't hesitate. First, he reached down and spread Shen's legs wider, opening him completely to the air and the view.
Shen's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that.
But Lu Zeyan wasn't finished. He lifted Shen's left leg, hooking it securely over his own shoulder.
Then, he moved.
He drove in deep—impossibly deep.
Shen's eyes went wide in disbelief.
The breath left his lungs in a sharp hiss. He blushed furiously, feeling filled to the brim, stretched and possessed in a way he had never permitted before.
Lu Zeyan moved with a slow, agonizingly perfect rhythm. It was a torture of pleasure that drove Shen mad.
Shen grabbed the silk sheets, his knuckles turning white. He arched his back off the mattress, his toes curling.
Lu Zeyan felt the reaction. He slowed his pace, leaning down. His hand slid down Shen's calf, gripping the ankle, and he pressed his tongue against the sensitive skin of Shen's inner thigh.
He licked. A long, worshipping stroke.
Shen gasped, startled by the intimacy. He arched again, a sound tearing from his throat—not a small moan, but a near-scream of electrified pleasure.
"Ah!"
Lu Zeyan didn't stop. He reached up, taking one of Shen's hands from the sheets. He brought the trembling fingers to his lips, kissing the knuckles, then licking the palm with devout reverence.
Shen was a mess. His composure was shattered, replaced by a symphony of broken moans.
"Yes," Shen gasped, his head thrashing on the pillow. "Do it! Show me how unleashed you are right now! Don't… don't make me disappoint!"
Lu Zeyan looked down, his violet eyes dark with intent. "Don't worry, Ge. I know how to satisfy you."
He smirked—a mirror of the expression he had learned from his master.
He adjusted his angle and thrust.
He hit the sweet spot.
Shen unraveled. "Harder!" he cried out, losing all pretense of indifference.
"Harder, A Yan!"
A Yan.
The nickname struck Lu Zeyan like a lightning bolt. It was the name from the past, the name of the brother, not the servant.
Fueled by the endearment, Lu Zeyan poured everything he had into the motion. He moved with his whole power, driving into Shen with a relentless, punishing cadence.
Shen cried out, his body seizing as the pleasure crested. He came, his release messy and overwhelming, leaving him spent and trembling against the sheets.
"That…" Shen panted, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen. "That wasn't bad, A Yan."
Lu Zeyan felt his own precipice approaching. A second later, he was there.
But just as the wave crashed over him, panic seized his haze of lust.
Permission. He hadn't asked.
In a move of desperate discipline, Lu Zeyan pulled out abruptly.
He spent himself outside, spilling his seed onto the sheets and Shen's stomach, panting heavily as the aftershocks wracked his body.
Shen Haoxuan lifted his head, looking at the mess, then at Lu Zeyan's guilty expression.
Silly, Shen thought, a mix of amusement and annoyance curling in his chest. Without my permission, he wouldn't even fill me? Even now?
Lu Zeyan collapsed, catching his breath, his face etched with worry that he had offended Shen by pulling away.
He lowered himself slowly, hovering over Shen. He pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to Shen's lips.
Shen didn't push him away. Instead, he reached up, grabbing Lu Zeyan's jaw firmly. He licked his own lips, tasting the sweat and the memory of their union.
"I'll reward you," Shen murmured, his voice raspy, "for your fascinating performance."
Lu Zeyan blushed, the red returning to his ears.
Shen smiled, then pulled Lu Zeyan down, kissing him roughly, sealing the promise of ownership once more.
Thousands of miles away, across the vast, indifferent expanse of the ocean, the sky over London was a bruising shade of slate grey.
In a sterile, glass-walled suite that overlooked the weeping city, Charles sat perched on the edge of a designer velvet sofa.
The tablet in his hands was dark, the screen reflecting his own furrowed brow, but his eyes saw nothing of the skyline or the digital device.
His mind was anchored in China.
It was trapped in a loop of memory, replaying a single, haunting image: Shu Yao.
Days remained. Endless, agonizing days before their return. The business deal in Europe was dragging on, a slow death by boardroom negotiation, and Charles felt the anxiety clawing at his throat.
He wasn't anxious about the contracts. He was anxious about the apology he had never delivered.
He shifted his weight, his grip tightening on the tablet until his knuckles turned white. The memory of his own voice echoed in his head—sharp, mocking, cruel. He had teased Shu Yao. He had participated in the casual, cutting remarks that seemed so harmless in the moment but now, in the silence of this foreign country, felt like criminal acts.
He remembered the way Shu Yao had lowered his head. He remembered the silence.
I need to fix it, Charles thought, his heart thumping an irregular, guilty rhythm against his ribs. I need to tell him I didn't mean to be that way.
The guilt was a physical thing, a heavy stone sitting in his stomach. He felt like a fugitive hiding in a high-rise.
"Charles."
The voice cut through the silence like a diamond cutter through glass.
Charles jolted. He stood up instantly, the tablet nearly slipping from his sweat-slicked fingers. He snapped his posture straight, a reflex of servitude.
"Yes! Yes, sir."
Niklas stood in the doorway. He was impeccable, a figure of icy authority in a charcoal suit that cost more than most people's homes. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable, his eyes sharp enough to dissect a man's soul.
"What is the next meeting about?" Niklas asked, his voice devoid of emotion, strictly business.
Charles swallowed hard, forcing his brain to switch tracks. He had to pivot from the emotional abyss back to the corporate battlefield.
"Sir," Charles stammered slightly, then found his footing. "The… the half of the Brand Managers are extremely curious. They are demanding details about the new collection release."
He took a breath, regaining his professional mask.
"They are concerned about the timeline," Charles added, his voice steadying. "They need reassurance."
Niklas stared at him for a second longer than necessary. He nodded, a sharp, singular motion.
"Prepare the car," Niklas commanded, pushing off the doorframe. "We will leave immediately."
"Yes, sir," Charles replied.
He turned, grabbing his blazer, and moved toward the exit. But as he vanished from the office, stepping into the cool hallway, the professional mask cracked.
A heat rose in his cheeks—a deep, burning blush that had nothing to do with the temperature.
The memory of Shu Yao was everywhere. It was superimposed over the elevator buttons, reflected in the polished marble of the lobby.
Charles felt like a criminal. He felt the weight of his past rudeness crushing him. He had been so careless with someone so fragile.
I'm sorry, he whispered to the empty air, the words lost in the hum of the building.
He pressed the elevator button, his face burning with the shame of a man who realized too late that he had broken something beautiful.
The cast of characters ..........
Name: Charles Laurent
Age: 29 (born 1996)
Birthdate: April 3, 1998 — Aries, which fits perfectly: impulsive, passionate, stubborn as sin, and once he fixates on someone, good luck prying him loose.
Appearance: 195 cm, chestnut hair that falls just enough to shadow his sharp blue eyes, a disarming smile that hides guilt too easily.
🌹 Shu Yao
Age: 24
Birthdate: march 3, 2001
March 3, 2001
Zodiac: (Pisces)
Height: 181 cm
Appearance: Long autumn hair that catches light like gold ribbon's, gentle autumn eyes with quiet warmth — fragile, but never weak.
Personality: Kind, serene, patient. Always thinks of others first, especially Bai Qi. Devotion runs in his blood, and love, for him, is both a curse and a calling.
Core Emotion: Self-sacrifice. He endures pain as if it's the only language he knows.
Quote: "If hating me makes it easier for you to breathe… then hate me."
Bai Qi
Age: 22
Birthdate: May 9, 2003
Zodiac: (Taurus)
Height: 194 cm
Appearance: Sharp black Wolfcut hair, commanding posture, eyes like obsidian — striking and intense.
Personality: Once gentle and protective ("the cinnamon roll"), but grief turned him cruel, his warmth burned into ashes. Beneath the rage, he's just a boy who lost too much too young.
Core Emotion: Guilt. Everything he does now — cruelty, control, distance — is a desperate form of mourning.
Quote: "you took everything from me.
George Harold von rothenberg
Age: 26
Birthdate : August 18, 1999
Zodiac: (Leo)
Height: 200 cm
Appearance: Golden hair, sharp green eyes, a confident smile that hides worry lines.
Personality: Bold and daring, but with a careful heart. He masks his concern with humor, especially when it comes to Shu Yao. Carries a quiet love he never dares to confess.
Core Emotion: Restraint. He could shake the world, yet he never risks shaking Shu Yao's peace.
Quote: "If loving you means standing behind your shadow, I'll do it — just don't turn the light off."
The Shen Line........
Shen Haoxuan
Grey eyes, black wolfcut hair, 190 cm.
He's Bai Qi's shadow twin, nearly a mirror in build and aura, but with that extra touch of cruelty in his gaze. His resemblance to Bai Qi is what will make Shu Yao's trauma so visceral — seeing the man who destroyed him in the same frame as the man he loves.
Shen Baoliang (the father) Grey eyes, dark brown hair, 194 cm.
The wolf grew old but never lost his bite. His grin carries history — that burning grudge and cruelty polished with elegance. His stature makes him almost equal to Bai Qi, but he rules with schemes, not strength.
Lu Zeyan Deep violet eyes, jet black "stream" hair, 193 cm.
The storm. His height is just shy of the others, but his violet eyes scream rebellion and unpredictability. He exists like Haoxuan's personal guard dog — loyal, daring, but vicious when riled. The fact he's enraged over a "mere slap" makes him volatile.
Niklas von Rothenberg → Icy blue eyes, golden hair, 199 cm.
The father. Just slightly shorter than George, but fiercer, colder. He's the man who turned his heartbreak into empire. His height and hair mirror George, but his icy eyes make him a frozen monarch.
Qing Yue → Brown bobbed hair, doe-brown eyes, 165 cm.
Small but radiant. She was the warmth in Shu Yao's life, and her death is the linchpin of Bai Qi's transformation.
Bai Qi's Mother (Niklas's Second Wife) name Bai Mingzhu (白明珠) – "Bright pearl," precious and luminous.
Features: Chinese beauty with fire hidden in elegance. Black hair like a midnight river, obsidian eyes burning with silent intelligence. Her resemblance to Bai Qi is undeniable: the same eyes, the same intensity. But where Bai Qi hardens, she softens — she tempers Niklas's ice with quiet devotion.
Name Florian Adler
Features: Ethereal, fragile beauty. His elegance mirrors Shu Yao's, almost hauntingly — pale skin like porcelain, long lashes, soft lips that never needed words to wound. His hair was silver-blonde, falling in silky waves; his eyes, olive garden, carrying serenity but also distance.
Aura: He is memory turned to marble. For Armin, every glance at Shu Yao is a knife, because Shu Yao's elegance resurrects that ghost. Where Shu Yao trembles from hurt, his lover had been serene, almost accepting of suffering, which made his downfall more tragic.
Height: 168 cm, graceful, poised, with an aura of calm strength.
Armin's Past Lover
Niklas's First Wife (Armin's Mother)
Name Sophie von Rothenberg – graceful, timeless, someone everyone respected.
Features: German nobility in her blood. Tall, elegant, golden hair like a summer field, grey eyes that carried both warmth and fragility. Her beauty was classic, refined, but illness dimmed her radiance slowly until her death.
Aura: The ghost of grief. Niklas still carries her with him — the reason he never let women be treated as objects. Her death left a hollow, one he swore never to let any man's cruelty inflict again.
Height: 170 cm, slender, always dressed with regal dignity
Shu Yao father Shu Yuelin (舒月林) – "Moon and forest," soft, romantic, poetic.
Shu Yao's father stood 180 cm, tall but never imposing — his presence was not in height or voice but in the gentle gravity of his elegance. His brown eyes, warm and endlessly soft, carried the same serenity Shu Yao inherited, framed by long, dark lashes that lent him an almost fragile beauty. His chestnut-brown hair, falling to his shoulders, shimmered like polished wood in sunlight, always slightly brushing against his cheeks when he tilted his head in thought.
He was a man of silence, never sharp words, whose every glance and gesture spoke more deeply than speeches could. He embodied the kind of beauty that did not demand attention but quietly commanded love and devotion. Just like Shu Yao, there was a stillness to him — an unshakable calm, refined and beloved, like a painting that grows more precious the longer you look at it.
Han Ruyan (韩如烟) – "Like smoke," fleeting and untouchable, echoing the way her warmth vanished like smoke after Shu Yuelin's death.
Flaxen hair (light golden-brown, unusual in China, makes her striking).
Latte-colored eyes—warm in tone, but they grow cold in expression after the accident.
Petite at 160 cm, elegant but sharp-featured, the kind of beauty that makes her look untouchable.