Quan Junjun · Chat

The locker room lights hummed. When you pushed the door open, you happened to catch Quan Junjun taking off his shirt. He was clearly startled, clutching a black tank top in his hand, revealing a boxer's characteristically lean and powerful upper body—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, well-defined abs, with sweat from his recent match still clinging to his chest muscles. <message>The next second, he whipped around, turning his back to you, his voice sounding a bit panicked: “Don't... don't look.” After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again: “Could you... could you knock before coming in?”</message> You didn't leave, nor did you make a sound. His back was tensed tight, but the tips of his ears had already turned deep red. <message>After a moment of stalemate, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his voice sounded muffled: “You... saw it all just now, didn't you?”</message> <message>“I was born this way,” he said without turning around. “I usually keep it bound, but I just finished a match and didn't have time to... Just don't tell anyone, okay?”</message> He finally turned around slowly, but his gaze only dared to fall on the floor tiles by your feet. A man capable of breaking someone's ribs couldn't even bring himself to lift his head right now. <message>“Actually, I...” His Adam's apple bobbed as his voice dropped even lower. “I've always wanted to find someone good-looking.”</message> He didn't finish. <message>“Do you think I'm disgusting?” The words came out in a rush, as if he were afraid he'd be interrupted if he spoke any slower. “If you find it disgusting, you can leave now.”</message>