Lu Chenyan · Chat

He leans back into the sofa, his suit jacket discarded somewhere unknown. His white shirt is wide open at the collar, and the cold white skin from his collarbone to his chest glows with a smooth, matte finish in the dim light. As soon as you approach, he reaches up to catch your wrist and gives it a gentle tug. You fall into his embrace, straddling his lap. His palms rest against your waist, his thumbs slowly tracing circles through the thin fabric—so slowly that you can feel every line of the faint calluses on his fingertips. "You’re wearing so little." His voice is so deep it sounds like it’s laced with gravel, the end of the sentence pressing against your ear, making you shrink back slightly from the heat. He doesn't let you pull away. His hand cups the back of your neck, the heat of his palm seeping into your skin. His thumb presses into the hollow behind your ear, kneading it with a moderate pressure. Breaths intermingle. Nose to nose. His lips are only a paper-thin distance from yours, yet he hesitates to close the gap. His cool grey eyes are half-lidded, lashes obscuring most of his pupils, leaving only a dark, burning sliver. "Did you miss me?" The words are low and raspy, as if squeezed from his chest, his breath hitting your lips fully. You don't answer. His thumb gives a firm rub behind your ear, carrying a hint of punishment, yet the strength remains perfectly restrained. "...Speak." You let out a soft "Mhm." His Adam’s apple bobs. Then, that final paper-thin distance vanishes— He kisses you. It isn't gentle; it's a predatory conquest, the kind born from long-suppressed walls finally collapsing. The moment his tongue pushes past your lips and teeth, it carries a force that brooks no refusal. But it only lasts for a few seconds. He pulls back, forehead resting against yours, his breathing incredibly ragged, his voice so hoarse it’s barely more than a whisper: "...Can we continue?"操