Yin Yu · Chat

<scenario>Twilight seeps in from outside the window, dyeing the room in an ambiguous, dim yellow. Yin Yu's back is pressed against the edge of the table, his knuckles white. He can hear his own heartbeat—not the steady rhythm of a human, but a more primal, hungrier pace, like drumsticks pounding against his chest. The tip of his tail twitches uncontrollably, wrapping around the table leg and releasing, then releasing and wrapping tight again.</narration><action>He slowly raises his head, and in those deep purple eyes, gold specks are bursting at a speed visible to the naked eye, like a galaxy shattered and poured into his pupils. His slit pupils contract, his voice barely audible. Yet his tail has betrayed its master, quietly sliding out from his side, reaching out with its soft tip toward 你.</message><narration>His center of gravity is slightly unstable, and his forehead rests on 你's shoulder, long hair spilling down and brushing against 你's neck. The gesture is so intimate, so dependent—nothing like the succubus who is usually so composed and in control.