Sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, spilling golden warmth across the tangled sheets and Shen Qiqi's bare legs. The bedroom smelled overwhelmingly of sandalwood, spice, and something darker—a scent thick with heat and memory.
Pei Yuchen's scent.
Qiqi lay there for a while, curled in the afterglow of the night before, his body sore in ways that made him blush just thinking about it. He pulled the comforter higher, breathing in deeply. It was almost like Yuchen was still there, holding him, even though he knew the Alpha had already left for work.
Eventually, with great reluctance, Qiqi rolled out of bed. His legs protested a little, and his knees wobbled as he made his way to the shower. The water soothed him, but not even the citrus-scented soap could wash away what clung to him now.
He was wrapped in Yuchen. Inside and out.
After dressing in one of Yuchen's old, oversized linen shirts—the only thing comfortable enough to wear today—Qiqi padded barefoot down the sleek hallway toward the kitchen, stomach growling softly.
The scent of congee, fresh toast, and soft-boiled eggs greeted him, and he smiled as he entered the penthouse's sunlit kitchen.
Then everything went still.
The moment Qiqi stepped through the doorway, all motion in the kitchen halted. Auntie Lin, the head chef, froze mid-stir over the stove. One assistant bumped into the counter with a soft gasp, nearly dropping a plate. Another gave a small squeak, turned bright red, and instantly turned away, pretending to scrub an already-clean countertop.
Qiqi blinked. "...Um. Good morning?"
"Good—! Good morning, Mr. Shen," Auntie Lin replied quickly, a bit too cheerfully. She adjusted her apron, eyes flicking anywhere but directly at him.
The air was tense in an awkward, tiptoeing way. Everyone seemed to be carefully avoiding looking at him directly—or worse, glancing at him, then quickly looking away with flushed cheeks.
He stepped forward. "Did something happen?"
Auntie Lin tried to wave it off. "Oh no, no. Everything is—ah, perfectly normal. Just, um…"
Qiqi crossed his arms—or tried to. The loose shirt slid off one shoulder, exposing a peek of his collarbone and the faintest mark where Yuchen's mouth had been the night before. One of the assistants choked softly and fled to the pantry.
Qiqi frowned. "Okay. Now you're all being weird. Did I spill something on myself? Is it the shirt? Be honest."
Auntie Lin sighed, clearly debating how much to say. Finally, she glanced at the youngest assistant, Li Mei, who looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole.
"Tell him," Auntie Lin said gently.
Li Mei winced. "It's your scent, Mr. Shen. Or more accurately… it's not just yours anymore."
Qiqi blinked. "What?"
Auntie Lin took over, her tone gentle but firm. "You're drenched in Chairman Pei's scent, sweetheart. Absolutely covered in it."
"Drenched?"
"Soaked. Layered. Saturated. You could walk through a crowd of Alphas and they would part for you."
Qiqi's mouth dropped open. His fingers instinctively brushed over his neck, as if he could somehow feel it.
"But he didn't mark me," he said, dazed.
"He didn't have to," Auntie Lin said kindly. "The scent you carry now—that comes from instinct. From closeness. From a night like… well, the one you clearly had."
Li Mei nodded, voice tiny. "It's hard for some of us Omegas and Betas to stay too close. It pulls at our instincts… makes us want to yield."
Another staff member chimed in from the back, her voice amused but reverent. "It's like being around two Alphas at once. We feel him through you."
Qiqi flushed from head to toe. His hand shot to cover his neck again. "Oh my god. You can all smell it?"
They all nodded. In perfect unison.
Auntie Lin finally smiled. "It's not a bad thing, dear. It means he wanted the world to know. And now… well, the world will know."
Qiqi sank into the nearest stool, face in his hands. "I'm a walking cologne ad for my Alpha."
"You're a walking claim," Auntie Lin corrected. Then, after a pause, she leaned in with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "But also… you're glowing."
He peeked between his fingers. "Glowing?"
She laughed softly. "Omega afterglow. It's a real thing. You look… happy. Anchored. Like someone who's finally where he belongs."
Qiqi felt his heart skip at that.
She placed a bowl of warm porridge and a soft-boiled egg in front of him, careful not to come too close. The other staff gave him space, respectfully keeping their distance while sneaking shy glances.
And as he sat there, cheeks pink, Yuchen's scent wrapped thickly around him like a second skin, Qiqi realized something:
Even without a bite. Even without a bond.
Pei Yuchen had claimed him. And he didn't mind it one bit.
Shen Qiqi sat at the breakfast bar with half a tea egg in his mouth and fingers flying across his phone screen.
Qiqi:
I did it. 😳
Yutong (seen) … was typing for a full minute.
Yutong:
Oh my god.
YOU DID IT???
SHEN QIQI.
Are you ALIVE.
Are your legs working.
Can you sit.
What did he DO.
Wait—are you texting me from bed or are you texting me from heaven.
Qiqi nearly choked on his tea.
Qiqi:
I'm alive. Sort of. Everything is sore.
And the staff won't stop blushing at me.
They say I'm "drenched" in his scent.
Yutong:
OF COURSE YOU ARE. YOU GOT WRECKED BY PEI YUCHEN!
Qiqi burst out laughing, nearly dropping his spoon.
Yutong:
Come meet me. Cafe near the park. I need to LOOK AT YOU to believe this.
Half an hour later, Qiqi stepped out of the car, his oversized sunglasses perched over his still-glowing face, and Pei Yuchen's scent trailing behind him like smoke.
The breeze was warm. The sky was a perfect shade of powder blue. The café was small but stylish, with open windows and trailing ivy that rustled in the wind. People were seated outside, sipping coffee and enjoying the sun.
Until Qiqi walked in.
He didn't even make it past the entrance before the entire atmosphere shifted.
Heads turned. People sniffed.
A couple seated by the window suddenly stood up and pretended to be interested in the menu board inside.
Two Alphas at a corner table tensed visibly—one even rubbed his neck like his scent glands had just been challenged.
Yutong, already seated with a smoothie in hand, took one look at him and immediately leaned back—nose wrinkling, eyes wide in mock betrayal.
"You—oh my god—you're a walking Alpha declaration!" he hissed, half-laughing, half-panicking. "You reek of him."
Qiqi flushed and sat across from him, trying not to inhale too deeply. "I showered! Twice!"
"Clearly not hard enough," Yutong muttered, grabbing his cup and leaning as far away as possible. "You smell like you were mauled by a CEO."
Qiqi sank lower in his seat. "Stop yelling."
"I'm whispering," Yutong snapped back. "People are staring, Qiqi. One Omega just dragged her Alpha out the door by the arm."
Indeed, a tall Alpha with a distressed expression had just been tugged out of the café by his glaring mate.
Qiqi buried his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to scare people!"
Yutong gave a dry laugh. "You're not scaring them. You're just... triggering every mating instinct in a six-meter radius."
"You make it sound like I'm radioactive."
"You are!" Yutong hissed. "This scent? This is no 'we cuddled and kissed a little' scent. This is 'I've been thoroughly and repeatedly wrecked by an Alpha whose self-control snapped in half at 3 a.m.' scent."
Qiqi peeked through his fingers. "...It was around 3 a.m."
Yutong slapped the table. "I knew it."
They both broke into giggles, though Yutong still leaned half out of his seat like the scent might physically push him back.
Eventually, the laughter faded, and Qiqi stirred his iced lavender latte with a little more calm.
"I didn't expect it to feel like this," he murmured.
Yutong glanced at him. "What? The scenting? The sex?"
"Both. But mostly… how intimate it was. How known I felt." Qiqi smiled faintly. "He didn't just touch me. He memorized me."
Yutong's gaze softened. "So you're not just glowing because of hormones?"
"No. I mean, probably a little. But it's more than that." Qiqi traced the rim of his glass. "It's like… now I carry him with me. Like a warmth I can't shake off."
"Sounds almost like a pre-bond," Yutong said quietly. "Even without a bite. That can happen, you know. When the connection is deep enough."
"I know," Qiqi said, then looked up. "But it doesn't feel suffocating. It feels like gravity."
Yutong smiled, genuinely this time. "Then you're lucky. Most of us stumble through years of bad bonds to find someone who makes us feel like gravity."
Qiqi tilted his head. "Did it bother you? That I texted you after?"
"Please," Yutong snorted. "You better text me after life-changing sex. If not me, then who?"
Qiqi grinned and reached over to steal a fry from his plate. "You're the worst."
"And you're disgusting," Yutong said, poking at him with a straw. "But also kind of beautiful right now. Happy looks good on you."
Qiqi blushed again, the kind that had nothing to do with scent.
And as the sun dipped lower, painting the terrace in warm amber light, the world outside quieted. They talked about nothing and everything, surrounded by the faint hum of street chatter and rustling ivy.
Even if people kept giving Qiqi wide berth, even if the barista looked like he might faint when he brought over their second round of drinks—Qiqi didn't care.
He was living inside it—with laughter, intimacy, and the weight of someone's scent curled so deep in his bones it felt like home.
Not long after, Yutong glanced at the time on his phone and groaned dramatically. "Ugh. I have to go. Stupid back-to-back photoshoots. They said it's just the morning shoot and now I have an afternoon as well. I swear if my manager says 'one more' in a serious sentence, I'm going to combust."
Qiqi laughed softly. "Go, go. Be famous."
Yutong leaned in and booped his nose. "You sure you'll be okay on your own?"
Qiqi waved a hand dismissively. "I have hot chocolate. I'm invincible."
With a final parting wink, Yutong swept off the terrace in a blur of effortless style, leaving a faint trail of citrus and floral Omega pheromones behind him. His seat was barely cold when the stillness returned.
Qiqi shifted, curling slightly into his oversized sweater, and took another slow sip of the hot chocolate now nestled between both his hands. The ceramic cup was warm, the drink sweet and creamy—almost too rich, but comforting.
The café had grown quieter around him, though it was far from empty. The terrace remained dotted with patrons, mostly business casual Alphas, younger professionals sipping espresso, a pair of Betas having a late lunch.
But no one came near him.
And it wasn't because Qiqi didn't stand out.
If anything, he was impossible to ignore.
He sat bathed in a halo of sunlight, the golden glow casting across his skin, highlighting the curve of his cheekbones, the gentle arch of his brows, the softness in his lips. His hair, still slightly damp from his morning shower, had dried into airy waves that shimmered like bronze thread in the light. His long lashes caught the sun each time he blinked, as if the light itself slowed for him.
He looked like something sacred—untouchable.
Or perhaps… claimed.
That was the word that echoed most loudly in the instincts of every Alpha nearby.
The scent around him was potent.
Heavy with possessive cedarwood and musky sandalwood—Yuchen's signature—layered beneath the sweetness of Qiqi's own scent like silk tangled in steel.
It wasn't subtle.
It was branding.
A single inhale near him made most Alphas stiffen and recalibrate their posture, shoulders tensing unconsciously in response. It was primal instinct—territory recognized and respected.
Even those who hadn't caught a direct whiff of it still felt it. Like an invisible wall humming in the air, daring anyone to trespass.
One bold Alpha waiter, barely older than Qiqi, approached with a refill of water and nearly dropped the glass when he stepped too close. His breath caught in his throat, a tremble passed through his fingers, and his pupils dilated instinctively before he jerked back with a bowed head.
"F-For you, sir," he stammered, placing the glass down a full arm's length away.
Qiqi blinked up at him, confused and a little sheepish. "Thank you."
The waiter fled like he'd just survived a war zone.
Two tables over, a trio of visiting corporate executives—Alphas, all of them—fell silent mid-discussion as Qiqi leaned into the sunbeam with a soft exhale, his fingers cupping his warm drink as he gazed at nothing in particular. One of them muttered under his breath, "God, he's beautiful…"
Another elbowed him sharply. "Don't. You smell that? Someone's already bitten the apple."
"I'm not stupid," the first one replied, almost mournfully. "Just regretful."
But no one moved closer.
No one dared.
The message in Pei Yuchen's scent was not subtle. It said:
Mine. Touched. Known. Loved.
Even unmarked, Qiqi's body sang with the aftermath of being deeply, thoroughly claimed—his glands slightly pink from overexposure, his body's natural pheromones now soaked in Yuchen's signature to the point of saturation.
Qiqi, oblivious to the tension he created, sat quietly sipping the last of his chocolate, unaware of the trail of heartache and instinctual recoil left in his wake.
Because while he had always drawn glances—soft-featured, sweet-natured, radiant in a quiet way—this was different.
This was what happened when the most powerful Alpha in the city kissed someone so thoroughly that even sunlight obeyed.
And for all the longing gazes cast his way, no one—not even the boldest Alpha in the crowd—could mistake him for unclaimed.
Because Pei Yuchen hadn't marked him yet…
But every cell of his body already belonged.
It began with the sound of tires.
A low purr of a luxury engine winding down from a sudden stop outside the café. Heads turned, the crisp chime of the entrance bell rang sharply over the quiet afternoon air.
And then he walked in.
Pei Yuchen.
Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that kind of bone-deep confidence that made every dominant Alpha in the room subconsciously straighten in their seats. He wore a slate gray suit jacket unbuttoned, one hand still tugging loose his silk tie as he crossed the café floor with smooth, predatory strides. His hair was sleeked back just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his face—cheekbones carved like marble, eyes dark with storm-cloud intensity.
But what struck the room hardest wasn't his looks.
It was him.
The presence. The scent.
The moment Pei Yuchen entered the space, the air shifted.
A thick, invisible wave rolled outward from his body—woodsy, potent cedar layered with dark sandalwood and something colder, cleaner, sharper underneath. It wasn't just his natural Alpha scent; it was power. Pure dominance. Ownership, in its most primal form.
One of the Alphas near the back—the youngest of the three executives from earlier—let out a low breath. "Shit," he whispered, eyes wide. "That's who it is?"
The other two didn't respond, too busy adjusting their postures and averting their eyes instinctively.
Every Alpha in the room felt it.
This wasn't some random top-tier Alpha staking a claim.
This was Pei Yuchen, Chairman of the Pei Group. A man whose net worth spanned continents, whose influence outstripped entire boardrooms. And he was the one whose scent clung possessively to the soft-featured Omega on the terrace.
The air tightened.
Even the bolder Alphas—those with polished Rolexes and tailored suits—took a mental step back. Because there were levels to dominance, and this one was untouchable.
Qiqi reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. The moment felt oddly peaceful—sun on his cheeks, chocolate warming his belly, and the strange hush of reverence around him. He tilted his face toward the sunlight and, without much thought, snapped a casual selfie.
The photo was soft. Golden light across his lashes, the oversized sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder, lips curled faintly in a content, absent smile. The steam from his mug still curled faintly in frame.
He added a caption:
☕️ Waiting for my next hot chocolate. Miss you.
Then he hit send.
At that exact moment, across the city in a sleek conference room high above the skyline, Pei Yuchen's phone vibrated once against the polished glass table. The room had been filled with the low drone of quarterly updates—graphs, forecasts, a sales projection flickering across a shared screen.
The General Manager was mid-sentence, sweating slightly under the intensity of delivering numbers to the notoriously precise and sharp-eyed chairman.
But Pei Yuchen wasn't looking at the screen.
He wasn't even pretending to listen.
He had already picked up his phone, expression unreadable.
One swipe.
Then silence.
And then—his entire demeanor shifted.
His hand clenched around the phone almost imperceptibly. His jaw ticked. His eyes darkened, burning with something fierce and territorial and wholly unprofessional. But no one in the room dared to breathe a word.
On the screen of his phone: the photo of Qiqi.
Soft. Gorgeous. Innocent.
And glowing with his scent, his touch, his sweater.
The possessiveness that flared in Yuchen's chest was instant and volcanic.
The General Manager faltered. "…and, ah, that brings us to Q3 projections for East—"
"Enough." Yuchen's voice was low, but absolute. A wall of sound that cut through the air like steel.
The entire boardroom froze.
The GM stammered, "S-sir?"
Pei Yuchen stood, slow and smooth, sliding his phone into his inner jacket pocket. "Reschedule the rest of this presentation. I have more important matters to attend to."
"But, Chairman, the—"
"I said reschedule."
His tone left no room for negotiation.
Within seconds, the meeting dissolved into nervous murmurs. Pei Yuchen was already moving—one hand at his collar, loosening his tie, the other pulling out his phone again for one more look.
His thumb brushed across the screen like a secret caress.
Backlit by the sunlight, in that photo, Qiqi looked edible.
Untouched, yet glowing with the ghost of his kiss. Just thinking about how that innocent face had looked the night before—flushed, breathless, pliant beneath him—made his pulse spike.
He dialed without hesitation.
Qiqi blinked when his phone lit up with an incoming call.
Pei Yuchen 🖤
He grinned to himself and answered. "Yuchen?"
The voice on the other end was deep, low, and rough. "Where are you right now?"
"In a café," Qiqi replied innocently, "Why?"
There was a pause. Then, quieter—like a warning growl:
"Don't move. I'm coming to get you."
Qiqi laughed, startled. "What? Why?"
"Because, baby," Yuchen said, voice dark and brimming with heat, "you have no idea how dangerous you look right now."
One of the Alphas seated nearby turned slightly, trying not to stare.
Qiqi tilted his head, flustered. "It's just a selfie…"
"Exactly," came the response. "And if another Alpha so much as breathes in your direction again, I'll break something."
Qiqi flushed. "You're being ridiculous—"
"Stay. There. Qiqi."
The name dropped from his lips like a vow, like a prayer.
"I'm not letting you walk around glowing like that unless I'm the one beside you."
The call ended.
It began with the sound of tires.
A low purr of a luxury engine winding down from a sudden stop outside the café. Heads turned, the crisp chime of the entrance bell rang sharply over the quiet afternoon air.
And then he walked in.
Pei Yuchen.
Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that kind of bone-deep confidence that made every dominant Alpha in the room subconsciously straighten in their seats. He wore a jet black luxury suit, his shirt unbuttoned, with one hand still tugging loose his silk tie as he crossed the café floor with smooth, predatory strides. His hair was sleeked back just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his face—cheekbones carved like marble, eyes dark with storm-cloud intensity.
But what struck the room hardest wasn't his looks.
It was him.
The presence. The scent.
The moment Pei Yuchen entered the space, the air shifted.
A thick, invisible wave rolled outward from his body—woodsy, potent cedar layered with dark sandalwood and something colder, cleaner, sharper underneath. It wasn't just his natural Alpha scent; it was power. Pure dominance, in its most primal form.
One of the Alphas near the back—the youngest of the three executives from earlier—let out a low breath. "Shit," he whispered, eyes wide. "That's who it is?"
The other two didn't respond, too busy adjusting their postures and averting their eyes instinctively.
Every Alpha in the room felt it.
This wasn't some random top-tier Alpha staking a claim.
This was Pei Yuchen, Chairman of the Pei Group. A man whose net worth spanned continents, whose influence outstripped entire boardrooms. And he was the one whose scent clung possessively to the soft-featured Omega on the terrace.
The air tightened.
Even the bolder Alphas—those with polished Rolexes and tailored suits—took a mental step back. Because there were levels to dominance, and this one was untouchable.
Qiqi looked up just as Yuchen reached the open terrace doors. His eyes lit up in surprise. "Yuchen?"
Pei Yuchen didn't speak.
Not immediately.
He took one long moment to drink Qiqi in—curled into the seat, cheeks sun-warmed, lips pink from the hot chocolate, still wearing that too-large sweater that belongs to him.
Beautiful.
Untouched by the world, yet completely soaked in him.
Without a word, Yuchen stepped into the sunlight, reached for Qiqi's hand, and pulled him gently to his feet.
The moment their fingers laced, something primal snapped into place.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't showy.
It was… absolute.
And every Alpha nearby felt it in their bones.
Qiqi let out a soft breath. "You didn't have to come."
Yuchen's eyes didn't leave him. "Yes," he said quietly, "I did."
And then—so gently it nearly undid Qiqi—he brushed his thumb over the inside of Qiqi's wrist, eyes lingering on the faint pink flush still visible near his glands.
Territorial, yes.
But not cruel.
Never cruel.
"You shouldn't walk around looking like that unless I'm beside you," he murmured, voice low but firm. "You don't see how they look at you."
"I wasn't doing anything," Qiqi said, cheeks reddening further.
"I know," Yuchen replied, dipping his head slightly, lips near Qiqi's ear. "But I also know you have no idea what you smell like right now."
Several Alphas subtly turned away, pretending to check their phones. One even stood up, muttering an excuse before leaving entirely.
Yuchen's presence was suffocating—not because he was doing anything overt, but because everything about him said mine. The way he touched Qiqi's wrist, the way he stood half a step in front of him now, body shielding, claiming.
Even the Beta waiter who had fumbled earlier peeked from the doorway and visibly gulped before disappearing again behind the espresso machine.
Yuchen turned, finally acknowledging the rest of the terrace with a single cold sweep of his gaze.
Not hostile.
Just… stating a fact.
This Omega?
This light-soaked, chocolate-drinking, sweater-draped vision?
Belongs to me.
And they all understood it—every Alpha, every scent-sensitive Beta, every human in the space.
The tension broke only when Yuchen wrapped a protective arm around Qiqi's shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.
"I cleared my afternoon," he said, low and deliberate. "You want to go for a drive?"
Qiqi glanced up, startled. "But your meeting—"
"They'll survive."
A soft flutter of something bloomed in Qiqi's chest. He nodded.
And together, they walked out—leaving in their wake a stunned, silent terrace and a scent trail that no one would forget for a long, long time.
The door shut with a muted thunk, sealing them inside the plush interior of the black Maserati.
Outside, the city murmured softly—muffled honks, the faint clatter of passing pedestrians, but in here, everything was still.
Pei Yuchen didn't speak at first.
He adjusted the climate controls wordlessly, flicking a glance to Qiqi to make sure the temperature was comfortable. The leather seats were cool against Qiqi's thighs, but the warmth of Yuchen's lingering touch on his hand made everything feel a little too warm anyway.
They pulled away from the curb, engine humming low and controlled, the cityscape gliding past in blurs of muted color.
The silence was not uncomfortable.
But it simmered.
Tension hung thick between them—not volatile, not angry. Just charged. Like a wire pulled taut, vibrating from something unsaid.
Qiqi curled deeper into the passenger seat, fingers resting lightly on his thighs. He could still feel the ghost of Yuchen's kiss against his temple. His heart hadn't quite calmed down.
He glanced sideways.
Yuchen's profile was sharp in the sunlight—eyes forward, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other braced on the gear shift. His jaw clenched, just once. Not in frustration.
In restraint.
Qiqi knew that look.
"Are you mad?" Qiqi asked, voice quiet.
Yuchen didn't answer right away. The city faded further behind them, replaced by quieter streets, lined with trees. Eventually, he spoke, voice low, deliberate.
"No."
Qiqi waited.
Then, softer, Yuchen added, "But I saw that photo and left the boardroom without breathing."
Qiqi's lips parted.
"I looked at you and thought—" He paused, exhaling sharply through his nose. "That if I wasn't there soon, someone else might be stupid enough to try."
"But no one did, no one would be dumb enough to try." Qiqi murmured, "I wasn't even thinking anything when I took it. I just… missed you."
That did something to Yuchen.
His hand flexed on the gear shift, fingers tightening briefly. Then he reached over slowly, hand falling to Qiqi's thigh.
Not suggestively.
Just—there.
Heavy. Protective.
Qiqi's breath hitched at the weight of it. Warm through the soft knit of his sweater.
Yuchen's voice was quiet. "You don't know what you look like when you're waiting in sunlight like that."
"I'm just me," Qiqi whispered.
"Exactly," Yuchen said, eyes still forward. "You're you.
"Every Alpha in the world," Yuchen continued, voice almost a growl now, "would be on their knees for you. They wouldn't even hesitate."
Qiqi froze, breath catching. Yuchen's gaze stayed fixed on the road, but every word sounded like a thread pulled taut from his chest.
Qiqi turned his head, gazing out the window to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. But he didn't pull away from the hand on his thigh. If anything, he leaned into the warmth.
The car slowed as they neared a red light, and for a moment, the city came back into focus.
Yuchen turned his head just slightly. "Did anyone touch you?"
Qiqi blinked, startled. "No. Of course not. They wouldn't dare."
Yuchen smirked feeling satisfied. But his jaw remained tight. His fingers on Qiqi's thigh curled slightly.
Then the light turned green.
And the car moved again—silent, sleek, steady—but the air inside had changed.
He didn't reply right away. He didn't need to.
Qiqi knew that look in his eyes—the way Yuchen glanced at him now and again, like he was remembering something, or imagining it instead.
The silence grew heavier, not with distance, but with intimacy.
And want.
By the time they hit the expressway out of the city, Yuchen's thumb had begun slowly tracing circles into the inside of Qiqi's thigh. Absent. Unthinking. Possessive.
Qiqi exhaled, shifting slightly in his seat.
Yuchen glanced at him.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
Qiqi's voice came barely above a breath. "I don't want you to."
The car kept moving—dark interior, soft music now playing from the stereo, and Yuchen's fingers resting with too much intention on Qiqi's leg.
There were no more words for a while.
Only the quiet hush of the road beneath them, the hum of the engine, and the lingering heat in the space between their bodies—thick with unsaid things. The world beyond the car blurred into insignificance.
But Yuchen's hand never left Qiqi's thigh.
When they turned off the expressway and into a quieter street, the tension had reached a quiet, burning point. He didn't say a word—just made a sharp turn into a private underground parking garage beneath one of his discreet high-rise properties.
The tires eased over the ramp, the interior lights of the car dimming as shadows folded over them like a curtain.
With practiced ease, Yuchen pulled into a secluded corner, killed the engine, and shifted the car into park.
A moment of stillness.
Then—
He turned.
One hand reached up to unbuckle Qiqi's seatbelt with a soft click, the other already sliding behind Qiqi's neck to draw him in.
And then he kissed him.
Not gently.
Not hesitantly.
It was immediate—hungry and deep and filled with something wild he hadn't allowed to show in the café. The kind of kiss that said I missed you and you drive me insane all at once. His lips slanted over Qiqi's with practiced familiarity, but the press of his mouth was near-desperate—like he had waited too long.
Qiqi gasped softly into the kiss, hands coming up instinctively to clutch at the lapels of Yuchen's blazer. His heart stuttered, heat flooding his cheeks, his lips parting to meet the urgency.
Yuchen growled low in his throat—possessive—and deepened the kiss.
Then, slower now, he began to soften it.
His mouth brushed over Qiqi's lips once more, then again, lighter, as if savoring him.
He pulled back just far enough to press a kiss to the corner of Qiqi's mouth. Then one to the curve of his jaw. Then another—lower, slower—to the soft spot beneath his ear.
Qiqi shivered.
Yuchen's lips found the smooth skin of his cheek and nuzzled there, breathing him in like he needed it. His kisses traveled in a trail—light and reverent—from Qiqi's cheekbone to the dip behind his ear, then down to the elegant line of his neck where his pulse beat rapidly.
The scent there was intoxicating.
Still sweet from earlier, but warmer now. Stirred. Responsive. Slightly flustered, slightly shy—purely Qiqi.
Yuchen lingered there, mouthing gently at the slope of his neck, barely grazing teeth over the flushed skin. Not enough to hurt, not enough to mark. Just a tease. Just a promise.
Qiqi whimpered softly, one hand sliding into Yuchen's hair, the other gripping his forearm like he needed to anchor himself.
"Yuchen…" he whispered, half a breath, half a plea.
Yuchen stilled. Just for a heartbeat.
Then pulled back to look at him.
Qiqi's lips were swollen, his eyes glassy and wide, cheeks pink and kissed raw. The way he looked in that moment—flushed, pliant, glowing with affection and confusion and quiet yearning—made something feral coil low in Yuchen's stomach.
Yuchen's hand was still cradling Qiqi's cheek, thumb brushing softly beneath his eye when he asked, "Are you hungry?"
Qiqi nodded wordlessly, eyes half-lidded and lashes trembling from the lingering heat between them. His cheeks were flushed, his lips still kiss-bitten, and there was a dazed sweetness to him—like he hadn't quite returned to reality yet.
Yuchen smiled softly. "Okay. Let's eat."
With a final sweep of his thumb across Qiqi's cheek, he pulled away and restarted the car. The silence that followed was companionable—gentle, warm, filled with shared breath and affection left to simmer quietly between them.
When they arrived at a sleek slate-gray building in the heart of the city, Qiqi didn't recognize it at first. But he noticed the way the security gate opened wordlessly upon their arrival, the way staff moved with practiced grace without a single word spoken.
There wasn't a valet in sight—only a sharply dressed attendant who bowed low and said, "Welcome, Chairman Pei," before taking the keys with polished precision.
It wasn't until they stepped into the building and Qiqi saw the gold-embossed sign above the marble archway that it hit him.
Luce Divina.
He stopped in his tracks. "Wait. You own this?."
Yuchen glanced at him, amused. "Yes. One of my earliest projects."
Qiqi stared at him, stunned. Yuchen's hand slid casually to the Qiqi's hands, guiding him forward. The staff bowed deeply. "Chairman Pei, welcome. Your table is prepared. The chef is on standby."
Then came the glance toward Qiqi.
And the soft, instinctive readjustment of posture, the tilt of the head in deference, the subtle acknowledgment in the air. They all sensed it—the Alpha scent that clung to Qiqi like an invisible thread: heavy with cedarwood and sandalwood, dominant and unmistakable.
Yuchen didn't need to speak to command the room. Qiqi didn't need to explain who he was.
The scent said it all.
The staff responded accordingly.
With grace. With respect. With care.
A napkin was laid in Qiqi's lap without a word. Water was poured. Chairs were adjusted before either of them could reach for them. When the sommelier approached, he bowed to both but addressed Qiqi with soft eyes.
"Would the young master prefer a wine pairing or a sweet mocktail to accompany the chef's courses tonight?"
Qiqi blinked. "Mocktail, please..."
The sommelier inclined his head and glided away.
Qiqi turned to Yuchen, whispering, "You really didn't have to do all this. I would've been fine with noodles and soup."
Yuchen reached across the table and took his hand.
"You deserve more than fine," he said. "You deserve everything."
Qiqi's cheeks burned—but he didn't argue.
Then the first course arrived.
And something shifted.
Qiqi took one polite bite of the ricotta-stuffed zucchini flowers—lightly crisp, drizzled with saffron honey—and froze. His eyes widened slightly. "Wait. That's... so good."
Yuchen smiled, setting his fork down to watch. "Mm?"
But Qiqi was already reaching for another. And another.
By the time the heirloom tomato and mozzarella tower arrived, Qiqi was visibly excited, fingers drumming on the table in anticipation. "I've never tasted tomatoes like these," he muttered through a full mouth. "They're so sweet they taste fake."
Yuchen chuckled. "They're grown in our greenhouse. Special seeds imported from Sicily."
Qiqi looked genuinely offended. "You've been sitting on tomatoes like this and feeding me supermarket ones?"
"I was waiting for a special occasion."
When the truffle tagliolini arrived—served with warm cream and shaved Parmigiano at the table—Qiqi let out an audible, shameless moan.
"Oh my god," he breathed, twirling a mountain of it onto his fork. "This is insane. Who needs this much flavor? No one needs this. This is criminal. Arrest the chef."
Across the table, Yuchen bit back a laugh and leaned his chin on his hand, watching him with open affection.
Qiqi devoured that pasta like he hadn't eaten in days. Then sopped up the leftover sauce with bread. Then asked—politely, sweetly—if he could try his as well.
Yuchen slid his plate over without hesitation.
"Don't judge me," Qiqi said around another bite, cheeks puffed out adorably. "I haven't eaten all day. And I didn't know we were going to a fine-dining fever dream."
Yuchen leaned closer. "I'm not judging," he said, voice low. "I like seeing you eat."
Qiqi paused, blinking.
Yuchen smiled. "It makes me feel like I'm taking care of you."
Qiqi suddenly looked shy again—cheeks pink from more than just food now. He dropped his gaze to his plate. "You always say the most dangerous things when I have food in my mouth."
Yuchen chuckled. "Maybe I like seeing you flustered and full."
By the time dessert arrived—a delicate espresso panna cotta topped with dark chocolate shavings and flecks of gold leaf—Qiqi was leaning back in his seat, eyes hazy, stomach full, and scent mellow with satisfaction.
He didn't even try to hide it anymore.
"I think I'm drunk on food," he muttered, lifting his mocktail with both hands and sipping slowly. "Is this what being pampered feels like?"
Yuchen reached over and brushed a crumb from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. "No."
Qiqi looked up at him, curious. "No?"
"This," Yuchen said softly, his gaze warm and unshaking, "is what being cherished feels like."