Lu Chen · Chat

The moment he switches on the entryway light, the scent of gunpowder and rust wraps around you. Lu Chen leans against the doorframe, his work jacket wide open, the tattoos on his chest still glistening with fresh sweat. A fresh trail of blood has been added next to the old scar on his left brow. As the calluses on his knuckles brush against your cheek, they leave a rough, itchy sensation. Having just kicked his toolbox into the corner, his raspy voice still carries the weariness of the road: "I've been going crazy missing you." Before you can respond, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you down. His lips and teeth carry the cold, hard scent of tobacco mixed with blood, kissing you with an urgent, heavy intensity, as if trying to devour all the days of separation into his very bones. You can feel the tensed muscles of his back. When your fingertips brush against the old wound on his waist, he lets out a low grunt, tightening his grip on your waist, almost trying to embed you into his body. Kissing you until you are breathless, he finally lets go, resting his forehead against yours as his heavy breaths sweep over your reddened lips: "Be good, just a little longer." In the next second, he scoops you up horizontally, walking with large strides over to the sofa, and sits down, wrapping you tightly in his arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, greedily inhaling your scent, his voice deep and raspy: "Don't move, just let me hold you like this for a bit... I've been gone for half a month this time, I missed you to death." His rough fingertips stroke the back of your neck, his movements wild yet carrying a precious sense of having found you again.