Bonus– My Shameful Secret
The night had been quiet, but Andre's heart had not. Sixteen years old, lying restlessly in his bed, he had finally drifted into sleep only to find himself in a dream unlike any he had ever known.
When he jolted awake, his breath was shallow, his body damp with sweat, and his sheets sticky with something he had never experienced before.
His first wet dream.
The realization sent a flood of heat up his neck. Shame, disbelief, and embarrassment twisted together inside his chest, so overwhelming that he had to bury his face into his pillow for a moment, as though hiding from the truth would make it vanish.
But no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it, the memory of the dream clung to him—vivid, sharp, inescapable.
In the dream, he had been lying naked on the bed, skin hot, body trembling. And above him—hovering over him with all the dominance of a predator—was a man. Also naked, his weight pressing down, his hands roaming everywhere, touching places Andre had never been touched before.
The dream-man's voice had been deep and teasing, curling into Andre's ear like smoke.
"You are so slutty."
The words had burned into him, half shameful, half thrilling. Andre remembered his own gasp, the way his body had betrayed him by arching closer to the touch.
He hadn't wanted to like it. He shouldn't have liked it. But the kisses pressed to his bare back had been hot and deliberate, trailing down his spine, making him shiver uncontrollably. Every brush of lips had been fire. Every whisper, a chain around his chest.
"You enjoy watching it, right?" the man had murmured against his ear, and Andre had shuddered, a broken sound slipping past his lips.
"Haa…"
"You love to be held by me."
"Haa…h-hhum…" He hadn't meant to moan, but the sound betrayed him. His body answered before his mind could stop it.
"You're such a good boy, being so obedient," the man had said, his tongue flicking against Andre's earlobe before sucking gently.
The sensation had torn another helpless sound from Andre. "Ahh…haa…"
"Good boys deserve punishment."
"W-why…?" His voice had been weak, breathless, his thoughts clouded with heat.
"Because you're sweet," came the chuckling reply, "but you're also a bad boy, Andre."
That name. His name.
The sound of it had snapped something in him. He had twisted around in shock, fighting through the haze of pleasure to see the man's face.
And when he did, his heart had stopped.
It was Yichen.
Zhen Yichen.
His mother's husband.
Even in the dream, Andre had felt himself break. His disbelief collided with the heat in his veins, and the world tilted.
"You…how…why are you here?" he had demanded, his voice thin, trembling.
Yichen's lips had curved coldly. "Because you want me. Because you desire to be under me."
"No! Never!" Andre had spat, but the conviction of his words had wavered. His body, flushed and hard, betrayed him.
Yichen's eyes had dropped down, and his hand had followed. "Then why," he whispered, wrapping fingers around Andre's arousal, "is this standing for me?"
The sudden grip, the motion—Andre had cried out, unable to hold back. "Ahh…haa…no…stop it, Yi—haa…"
"Cum for me, my good, bad boy."
His head had said no, his pride had said no, his heart had said no, but his body—his traitorous, shameful body—had surged with unbearable pleasure. The sounds spilling from his lips had betrayed his resistance.
He had hated it. He had hated Yichen. Hated that he took his mother away. Hated that he now haunted his body in a way that stripped him of control.
And yet—he had felt the building heat, the sharp, rushing wave about to break.
"No…ahh…Yichen…haa…"
"Yes. Cum for me. Want me."
"I don't…nngh…I don't want to…haa…!"
But the dream had ended there, with a choking gasp and the release of something he had never experienced before.
Now, sitting upright on his bed, Andre stared down at the evidence on his sheets, at the damp stain spreading across his pants. His ears burned hot with humiliation.
He had heard of it, of course—wet dreams, the unspoken mark of adolescence. But never had he thought his first would be like this. Never had he thought the figure in that shameful dream would be Yichen of all people.
His chest tightened as the realization settled like a stone.
Did this mean he desired him? Did this mean, deep down, he wanted him?
"No." Andre's silver-gray eyes hardened, though the tips of his ears glowed red. "No. It's impossible."
It had to be the video. That hidden file he had stumbled across—the one he should have never watched. Yichen's face, Yichen's body with another man—that must have carved itself into his subconscious, infecting his dreams. That was the explanation. That had to be it.
Because if it wasn't…
Andre shook his head furiously, refusing to let the thought complete itself.
It wasn't desire. It wasn't.
It was the video. Only the video.
But suspicion stirred anyway.
Could it be true? Could Yichen really be after his body? Why else would he always appear at night, lying next to him as though he belonged there? Why else would he make himself so present, so unshakable?
Andre's hands tightened into fists. That must be it. That man can't even let me be in peace, not even in my dreams.
Yes. Yichen was after his body.
But Andre would not allow it.
His silver eyes gleamed, fierce with determination. He swore then and there: Yichen would never take him, never make him submit. Not in reality. Not ever.
The thought gave him strength, but as he stood to wash himself, peeling off the sticky fabric, embarrassment returned. His reflection in the mirror caught him—his usually cold, composed face betrayed by the faint pink flush on his cheeks.
"Oh…this is really embarrassing," he muttered, biting his lip.
He turned on the tap, scrubbing furiously at his skin, wanting to erase the evidence, the shame, the memory.
"I can't let anyone find out about this."
It was his shameful secret. One he would bury deep inside himself, never spoken, never revealed.
But in the silence of the washroom, even as he swore to forget, his body remembered.
And his heart, though he tried to deny it, had already begun to tremble with something darker.
A.N: Enjoy