Chapter 260 — Broken restraint

Xing Yu burst through the front door, nearly tripping on the step in his rush. His chest heaved as his eyes darted around the dim hall. The door to their shared room was shut tight, the faint sliver of light beneath it a cruel barrier. He stumbled toward it, palms flat on the wood."Jian..." his voice cracked as he knocked, rapid and desperate. "Jian, open the door. Please."

Silence, but not silence—he could hear it, the muffled catch of breath, the broken rhythm of sobs on the other side. His stomach clenched.

The opposite door creaked open. Li Wang shuffled out, his hair sticking out on one side and his glasses crooked on his nose. He rubbed at his face blearily. "Can you guys keep it down? It’s the middle of the night, for god’s sake." He grumbled under his breath and trudged off toward the kitchen, muttering about sleepless households and inconsiderate couples.

But Xing Yu barely noticed him. He pressed his forehead to the door, straining to listen past the sound of his own racing heart. Jian’s sobs pierced through, quiet but devastating.

The words spilled from him before he could stop them. "I... I desire you," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I desire you so much, Jian—so much that if I ever let myself go, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I—" His hand curled against the door. "I love you. I love you more than I can bear. It’s taken everything in me to hold myself back these five years. Every night. Every morning. Do you know how much it hurt, pretending I didn’t want to touch you?"

He swallowed, his throat raw. "If I made you feel unwanted, if I made you think you weren’t enough—then it’s my fault. My blindness. My cowardice. I never wanted to hurt you."

The sobs on the other side quieted. His breath caught. Then—suddenly—the door yanked open.

There stood Jian, his face streaked with tears, eyes red-rimmed but blazing with hurt. He looked up at Xing Yu, chest trembling with each shaky breath.

"You’re lying." His voice was fragile, but edged with fire.

"I’m not!" Xing Yu stepped forward instinctively, almost reaching for him but stopping himself. "I swear on your gods, Jian, I’m not lying."

"I don’t believe you." Jian rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand like a child refusing comfort.

"Then—then how do I prove it?" Xing Yu’s composure shattered completely, his eyes frantic, his hands hovering helplessly at his sides.

Jian hesitated. The seconds stretched. His lips quivered before he whispered, "Kiss me."

Xing Yu froze, every muscle stiffening at once. His mouth parted soundlessly. "...Okay..." He stood there awkwardly, as if his own body betrayed him, unsure how to move.

"Ahem! Ahem!" A deliberate cough sliced through the charged air.

Both of them turned.

Li Wang stood in the hallway, arms crossed, glasses freshly adjusted, gaze flat. "If you two want to do obscure shit, can you at least go inside the room? Some of us are single and don’t need to witness this."

Jian’s glare snapped like a whip. "Who’s we? You mean you can’t handle it."

"You didn’t have to rub that in," Li Wang muttered, offended. "What I’m saying is—"

Before he could finish, Jian grabbed Xing Yu by the wrist and yanked him back into the room, slamming the door with a decisive thud.

Left alone in the hall, Li Wang sighed dramatically. "When am I going to find my own girlfriend? I swear, these four are too much." Muttering, he padded back to his room.

Inside, Jian didn’t let go. His fists were tight in Xing Yu’s collar as he pulled him down, their faces close enough to share breath. His golden eyes burned even through the traces of tears.

"What are you waiting for? Prove it."

Xing Yu’s hand trembled as he lifted it, cupping Jian’s cheek with almost reverent care. Slowly—achingly slowly—he leaned down, lowering himself to Jian’s height.

Jian stared up at him unblinking, his heart hammering so violently it hurt. He held his face calm, but inside he felt like he might break apart.

"You... close your eyes," Xing Yu murmured, gently covering Jian’s gaze with his palm.

"Why? I want to—" Jian’s protest cut off when the faintest touch grazed his lips. A fleeting brush, so light it startled him. By the time he realized it was a kiss, it was already gone.

Unsatisfied, Jian tore Xing Yu’s hand away from his face and surged forward. He pressed his lips firmly against Xing Yu’s thin ones, pouring his anger, his longing, his years of frustration into that single contact.

Xing Yu’s restraint broke. With a groan that sounded like surrender, he cupped Jian’s face in both hands and kissed him back.

Jian didn’t even have time to step away before Xing Yu’s hand pressed firmly against his back, broad and rough against the fine fabric of his robe. The touch alone made him stiffen, breath catching in his throat, but then Xing Yu pulled him forward in one decisive motion and sealed his lips over Jian’s.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, consuming—his lips crushed Jian’s, biting at his lower lip until Jian let out a muffled sound that trembled between protest and surrender. The taste of peach still lingered on his tongue, but Xing Yu swallowed it greedily, drinking in every bit of him like a man starved. Jian’s knees almost buckled as the kiss deepened, so fierce that he could hardly breathe, his chest pressed flush against the unyielding strength in front of him.

Xing Yu’s hand at his back moved slowly, deliberately, fingers dragging across the thin fabric with a roughness that made Jian shiver uncontrollably. Each rub sent a jolt of heat up his spine, pulling a small, involuntary arch from him. He tried to push at Xing Yu’s chest weakly, but the man’s arm circled his waist—tight, unrelenting—and tugged him even closer.

So close that Jian felt it—an unmistakable hardness pressing against him through the layers of fabric, hot and insistent. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, a rush of fire flooding his cheeks as he gasped against Xing Yu’s lips. The arm around his waist only tightened, binding him in place, forcing him to feel every inch of the closeness he was both terrified of and unable to pull away from.

Jian’s hands fisted in Xing Yu’s shirt, trembling with the confusion of wanting to escape and the dangerous pull that made his chest tighten painfully. Xing Yu kissed him harder still, almost devouring, as if he could pour every unspoken word, every hidden desire straight into Jian’s mouth. And Jian—panting, dizzy, overwhelmed—could only shudder in his hold, every breath stolen, every nerve burning where rough hands and impossible closeness trapped him.