The silence between them was so sharp it could cut.
Yichen didn't know what to say, or even how to breathe. The things spilling from Andre's mouth had left him reeling. To be accused of harboring unclean thoughts—toward Celia's son, toward this boy he'd watched grow up—it was unbearable. Yes, there were darker impulses he fought in the privacy of his own mind: a greed for Andre's presence, the calm and strange peace the boy brought to his chaos. But lust? Never. That line he never dared to cross.
And yet, with Andre's silver eyes fixed on him, sharp and accusing, Yichen suddenly felt as though the line had already been crossed.
The young man stood tall, shoulders broad, his body muscular for his age. Despite being just eighteen, he already bore the physique of someone who could rival him in strength. Yichen, older and more refined, suddenly realized how much Andre had changed—no longer a child, no longer a harmless presence.
Their gazes clashed. Neither looked away.
"You must want me now, right?" Andre's voice was low, taunting, edged with cruel amusement. He tilted his head, lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. "The way you're staring at me—it's obvious."
Yichen stiffened. "…Andre, what is wrong with you?"
"Me? Nothing." Andre's laugh was soft but bitter. "I'm just tired of pretending. Tired of acting like all those nights you sneaked into my room—claiming I 'help you sleep'—meant nothing. Tired of playing along as if we don't both know who you really are and what you want."
The words cut like knives.
Yichen's chest tightened. His face hardened, his voice low but firm. "Andre, I don't know what you think you've understood, but you're wrong. This—this misconception you've built—it isn't real. I think we should stop this conversation now."
He pushed himself up from the edge of the bed, gathering his jacket. His instinct screamed to leave—distance was the only way to keep control.
"I should leave," he muttered, striding toward the door.
But before his hand could close around the knob, a strong grip clamped around his wrist.
Yichen froze, shocked by the strength. Andre's hand was like iron, unyielding, pulling him back. With a sudden, forceful movement, Andre shoved him against the door. The impact rattled through Yichen's spine, his back pressed flush against the hard wood. The young man's body loomed close, tall and unrelenting, his arm braced against the door to trap him in place.
Yichen's breath caught. "What are you do—"
He didn't finish. Andre's lips crushed down against his.
It was no gentle kiss. No hesitant brush of mouths. It was raw, forceful, biting. Andre's inexperience showed in every movement—his teeth catching Yichen's lower lip, his kiss messy and demanding. But the rawness, the sheer reckless energy behind it, made Yichen's eyes fly wide in shock.
"Hmm—! Andre—" His muffled protest dissolved into the press of lips, the sting of teeth. He tried to turn his head, tried to push the boy back, but Andre's grip was merciless. The young man kissed as though claiming a prize he'd long been denied, unrelenting, fierce.
Yichen's body stiffened. His mind screamed to resist, to shove him off, to reestablish control—but the sensation of heat, of another's mouth crushing against his, stole his balance.
Andre bit down harder, pulling back just enough to smirk against his lips, breath hot and unsteady. His silver eyes gleamed with both defiance and hunger.
"You see?" Andre whispered harshly, voice laced with mockery and something darker. "You didn't push me away fast enough. Maybe you wanted this more than you admit."
"Stop it," Yichen snapped, his voice hoarse. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his calm composure cracked. "This isn't—"
Andre didn't let him finish. He leaned in again, kissing him harder, more insistent, hands sliding up to grip Yichen's shoulders, pinning him even more firmly against the door. The kiss was rough, desperate, almost punishing. Yichen struggled, but every movement only pressed them closer, their bodies colliding with unspoken tension.
"Hmm—ah—" Yichen hissed against the sharp nip of teeth, his lip caught between Andre's. The sting jolted through him, awakening something he didn't want to name.
Andre's breath was ragged, heavy, as though he was pouring years of buried emotion into the kiss. Hatred, obsession, desperation—all tangled together. His hands shook with the intensity of holding Yichen there, of refusing to let go.
"Don't lie to me," Andre murmured against his mouth, his tone almost broken beneath the mockery. "You say you don't want me, yet you let me this close. You don't pull away."
Yichen turned his face aside, panting. His voice was strained. "Because you've trapped me. This isn't choice, Andre. It's force."
Andre froze for a moment, staring at him, expression unreadable. Then he laughed softly, bitterly.
"Force?" His hand slid up, fingers gripping Yichen's jaw, tilting his face back toward him. Their eyes locked, silver into dark. "Or is it that you're afraid? Afraid because I make you feel something you don't want to admit?"
Yichen's heart pounded violently. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to throw the boy off, to end this madness. And yet—Andre's closeness, the heat of his breath, the sheer wildness of his kiss—left him shaken. It had been years since anyone had torn him so brutally out of control.
"Andre…" he said softly, almost pleading now. "You don't know what you're doing."
"Don't I?" Andre's lips brushed his ear, his voice low and hot. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm proving you're no better than the man in that video. You want control, you want someone beneath you. Well, I'm giving myself to you—so long as you give my mother her freedom."
Yichen's eyes widened at the words. His throat tightened.
"And if I don't?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Andre's smile was sharp, cruel, and heartbreakingly beautiful. "Then I'll make sure you break first."
And with that, he kissed him again—this time slower, but no less intense, his tongue parting Yichen's lips, pressing deeper, demanding entry.
Yichen shuddered, torn between resistance and the terrifying pull of the boy's reckless passion. His mind screamed wrong, wrong, wrong, but his body betrayed him, answering the kiss with a tremor he couldn't control.
Andre only deepened it, savoring the taste of victory on his lips.