"Andre?" Celia's voice drifted from the hallway again, soft but close enough to make Yichen's entire body seize.
It was as if every drop of blood drained from his face at once. His usually unshakable composure fractured—shoulders rigid, lips pale, eyes darting toward the door as if it might burst open.
Andre, however, remained unfazed. His breath was steady, his eyes darkened to an unreadable shade, shadows swallowing their silver gleam. He leaned closer, deliberately licking the faint red bite mark he'd left on Yichen's collarbone, dragging his tongue slowly across the heated skin.
Yichen's eyes widened, silently pleading for him to stop. He couldn't move—his back was pinned to the door, Andre's body caging him in like an immovable wall.
Andre tilted his head, watching every flicker of panic across the man's face. A daring smile ghosted his lips. So this is what scares Zhen Yichen? Not money, not power, not boardroom wars… but this. Me.
"Don't tell me…" Andre's thoughts twisted as he brushed his fingers lower, "…could it be that this man actually has feelings for Mom?!"
The idea jolted him, but almost immediately he rejected it. No. Impossible. He's not even straight. And besides… His hand slid downward, deliberately testing, until his palm pressed against the hardness straining Yichen's trousers. Andre's lips curled upward. …besides, this proves it. How could someone turned on by his wife's son possibly love her?
Yichen shuddered under the touch, eyes widening in disbelief. He's—he's touching me here? With Celia just on the other side of this door?! His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning out the muffled sound of her voice.
"Andre, are you…? It's fine, I'm coming in—" Celia's voice cut through again, accompanied by the sound of a hand rattling the knob.
Yichen's stomach plummeted. He tried to shove Andre away, but Andre only pressed in harder, his hand still cruelly gripping him.
The knob rattled again, then stopped. "Hm? The door is locked?" Celia's voice turned to mild surprise.
Andre didn't flinch. He simply leaned closer, his lips brushing Yichen's ear, silver eyes gleaming like a predator's. Yichen's own heart nearly burst from his chest.
"Oh… he's learned how to lock his door. Privacy, hm?" Celia chuckled to herself, clearly unaware. "He must be tired. I'll let him rest."
Her footsteps faded down the hall.
The moment she was gone, Yichen exhaled sharply, his whole body trembling from the tension. Sweat lined his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Relief washed over him like cold water.
But Andre wasn't done. He tilted his head, mocking, whispering with a smirk, "You're so scared… Why? Is it because she almost caught us?"
"You—" Yichen's voice cracked before he steadied it, forcing his tone low and sharp. "How was the door locked?"
Andre chuckled darkly, straightening just enough to look him in the eye. "I wondered how a man of your status could be so slow. While you were leaning against the door, I locked it. Smart, right? That way, you can't escape."
The sarcasm stung.
"Enough!" Yichen snapped, regaining some of his usual steel. His eyes narrowed, cold authority bleeding back into his voice. "Andre, you need to stop this now."
For a moment, Andre stared at him, searching for a crack in that restored composure. The earlier image of Yichen's pale panic still burned in his mind. He had seen him vulnerable. Shaken. Afraid. Not the untouchable man everyone bowed to, but someone trembling under his hands.
Andre had expected to be beaten tonight, thrown against the wall, punished for daring to cross the line. He had planned to use that pain as an excuse to skip work tomorrow. But instead—he had broken Yichen. He had seen him at his weakest.
And worse, he had enjoyed it.
The memory of those lips—soft, much softer than he'd imagined—lingered on his own. The quiet, unguarded sounds Yichen had made, the way his body had reacted despite his words… it was addictive. Too addictive.
Andre's chest tightened. I resent this man. I hate Zhen Yichen. So why… why did I want to keep going? Why did it feel so good?
The thought disgusted him. Confused him. Shook him to his core. Could I be… gay? No. No, that's impossible. But… if I am, then it's this man's fault.
"Fine," Andre muttered at last, stepping back with a cold edge. His hand fell away, leaving Yichen's body burning where the heat of his palm had been. "Leave. I want to rest."
Yichen's lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, to say something—but he swallowed it back. Without a word, he unlocked the door and slipped out, his steps hurried, almost fleeing.
Andre watched him go, a low laugh curling from his throat. "Heheh… I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Zhen Yichen… running away? I must have really broken him tonight."
Turning toward the bathroom, Andre stripped off his clothes and stepped under the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged refreshed, dressed in loose sleepwear. He checked the clock: 1:38 a.m.
"Damn, it's late…" he muttered. His body still thrummed with restless heat, the memory of Yichen's lips and the hardness he'd felt refusing to fade.
He threw himself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. For the first time… not even when I saw those dirty videos with men back in Italy, not even those adult films with women… nothing compared. Nothing made me feel this.
His jaw clenched as the truth sank in. Tonight… Zhen Yichen made me hard. I even… even jacked off in the shower, thinking of him.
The thought disgusted him—and thrilled him. He shoved a hand over his eyes, trying to blot it all out.
"Damn it…" His voice was low, broken. "What the hell is happening to me?"
Exhaustion pulled at him, dragging him under despite the chaos in his chest. "Maybe… maybe if I sleep… all these feelings will die."
But as his breaths evened out, the ghost of Yichen's lips lingered on his own.
Tomorrow would come, but tonight's fire would not be easily extinguished.