Shen Yanxing was pinned to the bed.
The moment his back hit the mattress, the springs creaked under the sudden weight—strained and unprepared.

The overly soft cushion gave way beneath them, pulling both bodies down.
He tried to push back on his elbows, but Jiang Zhilin gripped his waist and drove him deeper.

Jiang’s kneecap pressed in like a dulled, unhinged blade,
grinding between Shen’s thighs—coarse fabric rasping out a harsh, tearing sound.

The tender hollow on the inside of his knee brushed, unintentionally, against the inside of Shen’s thigh.
Even through the layers of suit pants, he could feel it—
the heat, the texture, rising and falling with each breath.
Too hot.
So hot his knees trembled—yet they kept pressing closer, as if magnetized.

“Fuck…”

A curse slipped out—low, guttural.
Jiang’s right knee dug in for leverage, trying to pull away—
but the left betrayed him, sliding forward.

Kneecap grazed Shen Yanxing’s groin.
Denim seams carved fine red lines into skin.
Sweat-damp fabric clung to the crook of his knee,
followed by a creak—metallic, faltering, like a machine on the verge of collapse.

Shen’s thigh muscles tensed underneath.
Jiang chased the heat anyway, greedy and unthinking—
shin pressed into that tender hollow,
hips grinding forward with a force that teetered on the edge of violence.

“Mm—!”

A choked sound rose beneath him.

He eased up without meaning to, switching to the softer inside of his knee.
Through the fabric, heat difference passed between them—slow, searing.

Drug-fire had soaked into every joint like molten metal.
What should’ve been pain now blurred into something dense, distorted—almost tender.
Each flex stirred friction like dragging through tar.

Mattress sagged under their weight, dangerously warped.
Sheets twisted into whirlpool folds.
A feather pillow flipped, tumbled, landed with a muffled thump.

Shen Yanxing felt the crushing weight bearing down on him, the sharp edge of a kneecap driving in, pushing and grinding as if to crush him into pieces.

The coarse scrape of fabric shocked his skin awake. The seam of tailored pants dug into the crease of his thigh, each shift dragging across that raw, sensitive spot.

Every rub left a sting, a dull ache laced beneath it.

When the pressure eased, circling slowly, his length was ground over and over, pleasure tearing up his spine like rusted barbed wire. The sharper the sting, the fiercer the rush bursting from his core to the back of his skull.

Heat throbbed heavier in his groin. The hardness beneath the fabric twitched, dampness seeping out in waves, squeezed by friction.

It flared from his tailbone. Jiang Zhilin’s knee suddenly quickened pace—denim rasping hot, the seam burning through layers, nearly scorching his underwear.

Fluid smeared, soaking the cotton. The moment the damp patch pressed over his corona, he gasped, toes curling tight inside his shoes.

That knee drove deeper.

Pleasure shot like fire up his spine, his inner thighs trembling with fine convulsions.

“Mn—”

A half-breath escaped Shen’s throat, only to be bitten apart between his teeth.

But it was too late. Jiang’s kneecap felt the change distinctly—

What began as a faint swelling, under the circling grind swelled hotter and harder, until the fabric bulged with heat. When the bone shifted, he could feel it: slick fluid bleeding through fibers.

That cold body beneath him was unraveling, leaking, trembling, soaked through with wet patches spreading at the root of his thighs, smearing onto Jiang’s trousers.

Fingers traced down along his beltline, outlining every curve, nails dragging deliberately over sensitive flesh.

When Jiang finally tore open his shirt, the rush of cold air lashed over bare skin, leaving him exposed—devoured by scorching eyes.

Only then did he realize—he had fallen completely, irreversibly, into the other’s grasp.

He had miscalculated the game.

Jiang Zhilin’s breath was scorching, carrying a weight that pressed down, nearly trapping Shen Yanxing in chaos.

His fingertips slid across Shen’s collarbone, trailing down over flushed skin—savoring, deliberate, yet ruthless in its inevitability.

Shen’s breathing faltered.
He braced his elbows, trying to push away, but his wrists were seized and forced back down.
The next second, teeth sank into his collarbone—biting, sucking, refusing to spare even an inch of delicate skin.

A warm palm kneaded over his waist and abdomen, fingertips tracing every subtle rise and fall of muscle.

Just as Shen tried to resist, he was flipped over with practiced ease, pinned against the mattress.

“You—”

Before the words could leave his mouth, the sound of fabric sliding off filled the air, clothes discarded carelessly, landing on the floor with a muted thud.

His body jolted. Before he could protest, Jiang was already on top of him, a heated chest pressing flush against his own, breath scattering by his ear—ambiguous, lethal.

Fingertips slid down along his spine, halting at the curve below.

The grip came without warning.
Shen’s shoulders and back tensed at once, as if his weakness had been caught—an invading loss of control climbing up his spine.

Instinct urged him to escape, but the heat of a palm against bare skin carried a strange dominance, making struggle impossible.

The tip was stroked in slow circles, the base squeezed tight in a merciless rhythm.
Clear fluid seeped into the seams of Jiang’s fingers, slick and warm, each press of his palm drawing out a lewd, sticky sound—each motion sparking a tremor.

“…Ngh!”

Shen bit down hard, but his breathing broke into chaos.

He tried to steady himself, tried not to give in—yet every tease piled higher, heat swelling like a tide, boiling over and swallowing him whole.

Suppressed gasps fractured into pieces, chest heaving violently, fingertips trembling from tension, unable to hold onto the last thread of reason.

“…Mm—ah…!”

The sound slipped through clenched teeth, breath ragged, trembling with unwilling surrender.

It shouldn’t have unraveled this quickly.

But his body was more honest than his will—waist drawn taut, spine arching, shuddering.

Breath, strained to its limit, broke apart, scattering in fragments.
His body jerked forward helplessly—then plunged.

Heat detonated through him. Shen froze, vision blank, body locked in place.

Heavy breaths tore from his lungs, chest pressed against the crumpled sheets.
Fingers twitched uncontrollably, still caught in the aftershocks.

Several seconds passed before he clawed back a shred of reason, half-opening his eyes, breath still refusing to calm.

—Damn it. He’d really been pushed this far.

Thick whiteness slid down between his fingers, and Jiang Zhilin’s pupils tightened.

The warmth of Shen Yanxing lingered in his palm, only to cool quickly in the air-conditioning, leaving pale streaks across his skin.

Suddenly he caught the man’s ankle and pulled it wide. His middle finger, slick with fluid, pressed into that tight entrance.

“You sure know how to put yourself to use.”

Shen tipped his head back with a muffled groan, the sound breaking apart against the tremor of the leather chair.

Jiang paid no mind.

The drug burned hot at the corners of his eyes, his vision filled with nothing but that tender flush stretched open around his fingers.

Each push and pull of his knuckles drew out sticky, lewd sounds, the mix of still-wet whiteness smeared across the pale skin at his thighs, staining it a wanton honeyed shade.

With a sharp breath, he shoved in a second finger, pads sinking in along the slickness, relentless as they pressed against that tender spot deep inside.

Shen’s waistline jolted taut, as if struck by current.
His back arched high off the bed, hands clenching the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

“Ha—ah…!”

His breaths came ragged, the end of each note trembling.

When the third finger slid in, his entire body shuddered. His back lay taut against the mattress like a bow drawn to breaking.

The entrance clenched tight, trembling around the intrusion, yet deep inside was scraped and teased, shocks racing from tailbone to scalp.

“Mm… mm—hah…!”

The sounds spilled, broken and helpless, no longer held back.

He tried to close his thighs to escape the assault, but they were forced apart, knees pinned in place by a strong hand at the crook, no chance to flee.

“Don’t run.”

The low, hoarse voice landed as fingers kept working inside him, grinding lightly against that point each time the walls convulsed.

Shen’s breath came uneven, cold sweat trailing down his temple.
Forced to the edge, he could only clutch hard at Jiang Zhilin’s arm, fingers tightening unconsciously as if to stop him—yet the moment they touched, his grip wavered, and he still couldn’t force out a single word.

Jiang narrowed his eyes, gaze locked on the entrance quivering around his fingers.
When he pulled out, strings of slickness stretched between, catching the light.

He was already half-mad with restraint.

God knew how much patience it took to prepare this man, to stop himself from simply driving in—while his own body throbbed with a pain that felt endless, so raw that even the faintest brush of skin threatened to drag a groan from his throat.

His palm clamped hard over the trembling hollow of Shen’s waist.
Jiang exhaled low, pressed his hips down, and drove the rigid length straight against that softened, soaking entrance.

The place tightened once, instinctively pulling him in—
blunt pleasure burst open at once, burning up his spine, leaving his whole body shuddering.

“Ha… ha…”

His throat seared with panting. Desire, held back to its breaking point, finally snapped.

“Fuck—”

Curse spilled out.
The next instant, he pinned Shen’s legs down, hips jerking forward—
the burning length speared hard into that quivering entrance.

Tight walls clamped down, swallowing him whole.
Wet heat bound him in, squeezing like it meant to grind him apart.

Inside Shen Yanxing was scorching, clamping so tightly it forced a muffled groan from Jiang’s throat.
Pleasure ripped up his spine—an illusion rising that he was about to be devoured entirely.

Jiang’s grip dug mercilessly into Shen’s waist, nailing him to the bed, every thrust reckless, desperate, and out of control.

His hips pounded wildly, leaving no space to breathe.
Each drive came with ruthless force, plunging straight into that blistering, narrow heat.

Shen was forced to take it, chest heaving with every ragged breath, fingers clawing the sheets, back muscles tensing tight as his body was jolted forward, low groans leaking from his throat.

Buried desire spiked to its peak.
Heat seared him from deep inside, pleasure swelling like wildfire.
His body trembled, breath betraying the storm of release.

“Mm—ah… ha…!”

Every thrust shattered what was left of Shen’s composure.
The same spot was struck again and again, nerves jolted raw, spine arching, sweat beading at his brow.

“Ha—ah…!”

A violent tremor seized him.
He gasped, unable to stop himself from being driven over the peak.

That fevered swell throbbed sharply, his rigid length twitching by instinct, spilling thick whiteness across Jiang’s abs.

But Jiang didn’t stop.

The splash of heat across his skin only drove him harsher, thrusting in deeper.

“Shit—ah…”

His voice rasped, eyes dark, fixed on prey completely taken. That tight heat clung to him, searing muscle squeezing down, threatening to consume him whole.

“Ha… ha…”

Pleasure detonated up his spine.
Jiang buried his face into Shen’s shoulder, hands clamping his waist, driving himself down—
burying to the hilt.

In the frenzy, scalding whiteness surged into the depths, flooding the tight heat already wrung raw.

He didn’t pull out.
The burning length stayed buried, every twitch drawing more from him, the walls milking as if to drain him dry.

“Oh, God…”

The tip throbbed to numbness, sac tightening to the point of ache.
Spurts of molten whiteness kept spilling, soaking the already slick passage.

And still, he didn’t stop.

His hips kept moving, slow, relentless.
Every draw pulled away wet heat.
Every push drove it deeper inside.

“…Ha… ah…”

Pleasure refused to ebb.
It only deepened, sharpened—this grinding pace somehow more intoxicating than the brutal rhythm before.

“…Mm—why is it… this good…”

His breath broke apart, drowned in excess, nerves unraveled to blankness.

He glanced down—
that swollen entrance swallowing his length, smeared in ruin.
Every deep drive wrenched another shudder from Shen’s body.

Jiang clenched his jaw, finally slamming deep to the hilt, emptying the very last drop of lingering ecstasy into him.