Yichen's mouth crashed against his again with a hunger that had been building for hours— days, weeks, maybe longer than either of them wanted to admit.
The kiss was not gentle. It was deep, wet, and demanding, his tongue sliding past Mo Fei's parted lips the second he made the smallest sound of surprise.
Mo Fei's fingers tightened in the front of Yichen's shirt, knuckles whitening. For a heartbeat he simply took it, stunned, then something in him answered. He tilted his head, kissed back harder, tasting the faint trace of him and the sharper edge of whatever restraint Yichen had just abandoned.
The heat of Yichen's body pressed against him, solid and overwhelming, and the soft fabric of the sofa cushions sank beneath his back as he was gently pushed down.
Yichen's free hand slid from his waist to the small of his back, pulling him closer until their chests pressed together. The fitted top Mo Fei still wore was thin, the heat of Yichen's body bled straight through it. A low sound rumbled in Yichen's throat when Mo Fei's tongue brushed his.
He broke the kiss only long enough to drag his mouth along the edge of Mo Fei's jaw, teeth grazing the soft skin just beneath his ear.
"You've been driving me insane all day," Yichen muttered against his throat, voice rough. "Standing up there looking like that… smiling at the cameras and walking toward me like you already knew."
Mo Fei's breath hitched. His violet hair was a mess against the sofa cushions, strands sticking to his temple. The apartment was quiet except for their breathing and the distant hum of the city far below. The cool air of the room kissed the overheated skin of his neck where Yichen's mouth had been, and the contrast made him shiver.
Yichen's hand slid under the hem of the top, palm spreading across bare skin.
Mo Fei's stomach jumped under the touch. Cool air kissed the strip of skin Yichen had exposed, and then warm fingers traced the sharp line of his hipbone. "Yichen—"
"Shh." Yichen kissed him again, slower this time but no less intense, while his hand moved higher, pushing the fitted top up. He broke the kiss only long enough to tug the fabric over Mo Fei's head and toss it aside. The sudden exposure made Mo Fei's nipples tighten in the cool air.
Yichen's eyes darkened as he looked down at him.
He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the center of Mo Fei's chest, right over his racing heart. The skin there was warm, faintly scented with the residual traces of stage makeup and the cologne that still clung to him. Yichen inhaled deeply, then opened his mouth and dragged his tongue in a slow, deliberate line upward.
Mo Fei's breath stuttered.
Yichen's lips found the hollow of his throat, then the sharp ridge of his collarbone. He bit down gently, just enough pressure to make Mo Fei's fingers dig into his shoulders, then soothed the spot with his tongue. The wet heat of his mouth left a trail of cooling moisture that made Mo Fei's skin prickle.
Then Yichen moved lower.
His mouth closed over one nipple without warning.
Mo Fei's back arched off the sofa with a sharp, startled moan. The sensation was electric— hot, wet, and overwhelming. Yichen's tongue swirled around the tightened peak in slow, deliberate circles, then flicked across it before sucking firmly. The pull of his mouth sent sparks racing straight down Mo Fei's spine to settle heavily between his legs.
"Ahh... Yichen— "
Yichen hummed against his skin, the vibration traveling through the sensitive flesh. He switched to the other nipple, teeth grazing it lightly before his tongue soothed the slight sting.
Mo Fei's hands flew to Yichen's hair, fingers threading through the white strands as his body shivered under the attention. Every swirl of that tongue, every soft bite, every wet suction felt amplified. He had never been touched like this—never had someone focus on him with such deliberate, starving intensity.
Yichen's hand slid down his stomach, palm warm and firm, while his mouth continued its assault on Mo Fei's chest. He bit down on one nipple just hard enough to make Mo Fei gasp, then immediately soothed it with the flat of his tongue, swirling slowly, thoroughly, until Mo Fei's hips were twitching helplessly against the sofa.
The dual sensation— sharp pressure followed by wet heat— drove him higher. Pleasure coiled tight in his gut, his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, already aching. Yichen seemed to sense it. He slowed deliberately, easing the suction, letting the edge of climax slip just out of reach until Mo Fei was trembling, soft broken sounds spilling from his lips.
"Please— " Mo Fei didn't even know what he was asking for.
Yichen lifted his head just enough to look at him. His lips were wet, eyes dark with hunger.
"Not yet," he murmured, voice low. Then he lowered his mouth again and took the other nipple between his teeth, tugging gently while his tongue swirled around it in tight, relentless circles.
Mo Fei's thighs clenched. His body shivered hard, every nerve ending lit up. The cool air of the apartment brushed over the wet peaks of his nipples each time Yichen switched sides, the contrast making the heat of that mouth feel even more intense. He could feel the dampness of Yichen's saliva cooling on his skin, could hear the soft, wet sounds of that tongue working him over, could smell the faint trace of Yichen's cologne mixed with the warmer scent of his own skin.
Yichen's hand finally moved lower, finding the button of Mo Fei's trousers, working it open with one practiced motion, then the zipper. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
Mo Fei's hips twitched. He was fully hard now, the fabric of his briefs tenting under Yichen's palm. When Yichen cupped him through the thin material, a soft, startled sound escaped Mo Fei's throat.
Yichen pulled back just enough to look at him.
Mo Fei's eyes were half-lidded, lips swollen and shining, cheeks flushed. He looked wrecked already, and Yichen had barely touched him below the waist.
"You're exhausted Feifei," Yichen said, voice low. His thumb stroked once over the hard length straining against the briefs. "I can feel it. Your whole body is still trembling from the event."
Mo Fei swallowed. "I'm fine—"
"You're not." Yichen's mouth curved, something dark and hungry in his eyes. "Which is the only reason I'm not stripping you completely and fucking you into this sofa until you forget your own name."
The words hit Mo Fei like a physical blow. Heat flooded his face, his cock jerking under Yichen's hand.
Yichen leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "But I still want my mouth on you." He sank to his knees between Mo Fei's spread thighs without another word.
Mo Fei's breath left him in a rush. He stared down as Yichen tugged the trousers and briefs down just far enough to free him. Cool air touched overheated skin. His cock sprang free, flushed, already leaking at the tip.
Yichen looked at it for a long second, eyes dark, then leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue from base to tip in one slow, deliberate stroke.
Mo Fei's head fell back against the sofa with a broken sound. "Ngh... Fuck"
Yichen hummed, the vibration traveling straight up Mo Fei's spine. He licked again, slower, tasting the salt and heat of him, then closed his lips around the head and sucked gently.
Mo Fei's hands flew to Yichen's shoulders, fingers digging in. Everything felt too much. The wet heat of Yichen's mouth, the way his tongue swirled under the sensitive ridge, the soft pressure of his lips sliding down.
Mo Fei had been with women before, had received this kind of attention, but never like this—never with this kind of focused, starving intensity. The residual sensitivity in his nipples still throbbed faintly, every brush of cool air a reminder of the way Yichen's mouth had worked him over.
Yichen took him deeper.
The wet sound of it filled the quiet apartment. Mo Fei's thighs trembled on either side of Yichen's shoulders. He could feel every careful movement— Yichen's tongue pressing firmly along the underside, the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, the occasional graze of teeth that sent sparks racing up his spine.
Yichen pulled off, then licked a long stripe along the vein that ran the length of him.
"You taste better than I imagined," he murmured, voice rough. His eyes flicked up. "I've thought about this more than once. Watching you walk those runways, knowing half the world wants you, and all I could think about was getting my mouth on you."
Mo Fei made a helpless sound. His hips tried to push forward, seeking more, but Yichen's hands settled firmly on his thighs, holding him still.
Then Yichen took him in again, deeper this time, until the head of Mo Fei's cock brushed the back of his throat.
Mo Fei's vision went white for a second.
The wet, tight heat, the way Yichen's throat worked around him, the steady rhythm that never faltered— it was overwhelming. Every nerve ending felt lit up. He could hear his own breathing, ragged and loud, mixed with the soft, filthy sounds of Yichen sucking him.
The taste of his own skin still lingered faintly on Yichen's lips from earlier, and the knowledge that this man— this controlled, composed man—had been starving for him all night only pushed him higher.
Yichen's hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with his mouth. The other hand slid higher, fingers pressing into the soft skin of Mo Fei's inner thigh, then higher still, brushing the sensitive skin behind his balls.
"Wait... hngh" Mo Fei's back arched. "Yichen—aah, I can't— "
Yichen only hummed again and took him deeper, throat relaxing around the intrusion. The vibration, the pressure, the wet heat— it was too much. Mo Fei's fingers tangled in Yichen's hair, pulling and holding on as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter at the base of his spine.
Yichen's tongue pressed hard against the underside of his cock while he sucked, relentless. Every few strokes he would pull almost all the way off, swirl his tongue around the leaking head, then sink back down until his nose brushed the soft hair at the base.
Mo Fei's thighs shook harder. His breath came in short, broken gasps. He had never felt anything this intense. The way Yichen seemed to know exactly where to press, how hard to suck, when to slow down and when to take him deep again— it felt like being taken apart piece by piece. The earlier attention to his chest had already left him hypersensitive, every wet sound, every deliberate swirl of that tongue, every controlled breath against his skin pushed him closer to the edge.
Yichen pulled off once more, lips shiny, breathing harder now. He stroked Mo Fei's cock with a firm, wet hand while he spoke.
"Next time," he said, voice low and rough, "I won't wait. Next time when you're not half-dead, I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to open you up on my fingers until you're begging, and then I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight for days."
Mo Fei's cock throbbed hard in his hand at the words. A fresh bead of precome welled at the tip. Yichen leaned in and licked it away, eyes never leaving Mo Fei's face.
"But tonight…"
He took him back into his mouth and sucked hard.
Mo Fei's orgasm hit him like a wave.
His whole body locked up, a broken cry tearing from his throat as he came. Yichen stayed with him, swallowing around him, throat working as pulse after pulse of come flooded his mouth. The wet, rhythmic suction never stopped, drawing every last drop out of him until Mo Fei's thighs were trembling uncontrollably and soft, oversensitive whimpers spilled from his lips.
Only then did Yichen pull off.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still dark and hungry. He rose smoothly to his feet, looking down at the wrecked figure on the sofa.
Mo Fei's chest heaved. His cock lay soft and wet against his stomach, trousers shoved halfway down his thighs, hair a complete disaster, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath.
His nipples were still faintly pink and wet from Yichen's earlier attention, sensitive to every brush of cool air. His eyes were wide, dazed, like he couldn't quite process what had just happened.
Yichen leaned down and pressed one last, lingering kiss to his mouth— deep enough that Mo Fei could taste himself on Yichen's tongue.
Then he straightened.
"Next time" Yichen said in a low voice, "I won't be this patient."
He turned, walked to the door without another word, and pulled it shut behind him with a soft, final click.
Mo Fei stared at the closed door, chest still rising and falling too fast, the taste of Yichen's kiss still on his lips, the phantom heat of that mouth still lingering between his legs and across his chest.
For once in his life, Mo Fei had absolutely nothing to say.
💜~~~~~
The door closed behind Zhang Yichen with a quiet click.
He stood there for a moment, one hand still resting on the handle, listening to the silence of his apartment.
A few minutes ago, Mo Fei had been talking about cake, complaining about his feet and somehow finding the energy to insult the entertainment industry despite looking as though he might collapse at any moment.
Now there was nothing.
Yichen exhaled through his nose, loosened his collar and headed towards his bedroom.
He didn't bother turning on the main lights. The faint glow from the city was enough to navigate by, spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows and stretching pale reflections across the polished floor.
His bedroom was cool, the air-conditioning humming steadily overhead.
He undid several buttons as he walked, kicked off his shoes and retrieved a bottle of whisky from the cabinet beside his bed. The first mouthful burned pleasantly down his throat.
He took another.
Then he dropped onto the mattress, the expensive sheets bunching beneath him. His shirt hung open across his chest, one sleeve twisted slightly beneath his shoulder. The whisky bottle rested against his thigh, its amber contents shifting whenever he moved.
For a while, he stared at the ceiling. Mo Fei's face surfaced in his thoughts.
That ridiculous grin beneath the Starlight spotlights. The way he'd curled his fingers at Yichen, inviting him into whatever nonsense he'd decided to inflict upon the entire festival, then his expression when Yichen kissed him.
Yichen closed his eyes. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He took another drink.
The whisky was warm in his stomach now, its sharpness lingering at the back of his tongue. He lowered the bottle and reached towards his neck, fingers finding the fine chain beneath his open collar.
He had worn it for so long that he barely noticed its weight anymore.
A diamond chain and hanging from it, a small pendant fashioned into the letter Y.
Yichen unfastened the clasp and drew it away from his neck.
The pendant caught the dim light as it swung between his fingers, throwing a brief, cold glimmer across his knuckles.
He lifted it towards his face, for several seconds, he simply looked at it—
Yichen.
His fingers stopped moving.
I'm here. Can we go now?
A memory, not a sound. He knew that, but It made no difference.
Mine. You're mine, right?
His jaw tightened. The bedroom remained still, the distant traffic beyond the windows reduced to a low, indistinct murmur.
He stared at the pendant, the little diamond-studded Y glittered innocently between his fingers. Something hot and ugly twisted in his chest.
"Fuck."
He hurled the necklace across the room. It struck the opposite wall with a sharp crack before falling somewhere near the skirting board.
Yichen sat up.
The mattress shifted beneath him, and whisky sloshed against the neck of the bottle as he raised it to his mouth.
He swallowed several mouthfuls in quick succession. The alcohol scorched his throat. He lowered the bottle and stared at the place where the necklace had landed.
A small, glittering thing against the dark floor. He could barely make it out from the bed. He considered leaving it there.
It could stay on the floor until morning. Or next week.
He could have someone throw the damned thing away.
Instead, he got up.
His bare feet met the cool floor as he crossed the bedroom, the bottle hanging loosely from one hand.
The necklace lay near the wall, its delicate chain twisted around itself. He crouched and picked it up. The diamonds caught the light again. He turned the pendant over, running his thumb along its edges.
Not even a fucking dent.
He had thrown it hard enough to leave a mark on the wall, and the bloody thing looked exactly as it had before.
Yichen let out a short, humourless laugh. "Bloody hell." He remained crouched for another moment, the necklace dangling from his fingers, then his phone began to ring.
The sound cut through the bedroom, loud and insistent.
Yichen glanced towards the bed. He straightened and walked back, setting the whisky bottle on the bedside table before retrieving his phone from the rumpled sheets. He answered without bothering to sit down.
"Mm?"
"Where the hell are you?" The voice was sharp enough to make him pull the phone slightly away from his ear.
Yichen looked towards the windows. "Home."
"We are coming over soon."
He gave a low hum of acknowledgement and the call ended.
Yichen tossed the phone onto the mattress, he stood beside the bed, the necklace still caught between his fingers, he looked down at it.
The pendant swung once, twice, then settled.
He placed it on the bedside table, picked up the whisky and took another long drink.
The bottle was considerably lighter now.
He didn't bother checking how much remained.
With a tired exhale, he sank back onto the mattress, one arm falling across his stomach.
His unbuttoned shirt spread loosely against the sheets, and the cool air brushed over his exposed chest.
The whisky left a bitter warmth in his mouth. He turned his head towards the bedside table. The necklace lay beside his phone, its diamonds catching the faintest trace of light from the windows.
Yichen stared at it until his eyes began to ache, then he rolled onto his back and shut them.
He ought to stay awake.
Instead, he took one last drink, set the bottle down and pulled an arm over his eyes. The room was quiet again.
He intended to sleep.
Whether his memories would allow it was another matter.