He Broke Me to My Lover's Music, Now the CEO Chases Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Against the Keys

Yuheng empties the hall and takes Mingzhou over the piano, then asks for the bridge no one has heard.

Yuheng walked down the aisle with his coat open and his hands in his pockets.

He didn't look at Mingzhou.

He looked at Fang, who still held Mingzhou's hands.

"Mr. Fang," he said. "Lanting Hall is closed for acoustic work until Friday."

Fang let go.

"The lease is in my name," Yuheng said pleasantly. "Ou Jin will send your rehearsal fee to your manager by noon. It's generous. I'd take it."

"Yuheng," Mingzhou said. "Don't."

"I'm not doing anything. I'm being kind." Yuheng finally turned his head. "Aren't I, Mr. Fang?"

Fang's face had gone grey.

He looked at Mingzhou. Mingzhou gave him the smallest nod he could.

Go.

Fang picked up his score from the piano, walked up the aisle without a word, and the heavy doors boomed shut behind him.

Then the hall was empty.

Yuheng climbed the three steps to the stage.

Up close he smelled of cold air and cedar and something darker underneath, and the pressure that rolled off him made Mingzhou's mouth go dry.

"I said stay in the house."

"Ou Jin told me. I went anyway."

"Ou Jin," Yuheng said, "will be dealt with."

"He didn't do anything."

"He gave you the keys to my car." Yuheng took a slow step closer. "I know my own garage."

Mingzhou backed up until the curve of the piano pressed into his spine.

It was a concert grand, black and polished, with the lid down. He gripped its edge behind him.

"He kissed my hand," he said. "Twice. That's all."

"I know."

"Then what are you..."

"I know that's all." Yuheng braced a hand on the piano on either side of him. His voice was almost gentle. "If he'd had more, he'd be in the harbour. I'm asking something else."

"What?"

"Why you let him."

Mingzhou stared at him.

The honest answer was too big to say: because he was tired, because Fang had been kind, because for eight months nobody in this city had touched him without a reason.

"Because he asked," he said.

Something flickered across Yuheng's face.

It was gone before Mingzhou could name it.

"Turn around," Yuheng said.

"No," Mingzhou said.

"Turn around, Mingzhou."

The scent rose, thick and heavy, and the back of Mingzhou's neck heated where the bond lay.

His body knew what was coming.

His legs were already weakening.

He hated it.

He turned around.

He put his hands flat on the piano lid and stood there, shaking, with his own reflection looking back at him in the black wood.

He watched Yuheng's hands come around his waist.

They undid his belt with no hurry at all, drew down his trousers and his underwear to his knees, and left him bare in the glare of the stage lamp.

"Look at yourself," Yuheng said into his hair.

Mingzhou was already hard.

He closed his eyes.

"Look."

He opened them again.

The man in the polished lid had flushed cheeks and an open mouth, and his eyes were wet.

Yuheng's mouth found the bite on his nape. Open, wet, without teeth.

Mingzhou's knees gave a little.

A hand curled around his cock and stroked him once, hard, base to tip, and he pushed into it before he could stop himself.

"There he is."

"Shut up," Mingzhou panted.

"You'll say that louder in a minute."

Yuheng's other hand went to his mouth.

Two fingers pressed past his lips and over his tongue.

"Wet them."

Mingzhou sucked them in.

He did it with his eyes shut and his face burning, because he wanted to and because refusing would only have made the wanting worse.

He licked between the knuckles. Yuheng pushed deeper, and Mingzhou groaned around the pressure.

"Good," Yuheng said, low and rough. "Good boy."

"I'm not..."

"I know you're not." The fingers slid out, trailing spit down Mingzhou's chin. "You're twenty-four and an alpha and you rode me last night until you screamed. I'm not mistaken about what you are."

The wet fingers dropped between Mingzhou's legs.

He gasped as one, then two, circled his hole and pushed in slowly, stretching him.

His forehead hit the piano lid.

"Quiet," Yuheng murmured. "This room carries."

"I can't..."

"Then I'll help you."

His palm closed over Mingzhou's mouth.

The fingers inside him curled, found the place, and pressed.

Mingzhou's whole body jerked. The sound he made went into Yuheng's hand and stayed there.

Twice. Three times.

His eyes watered, and his hips rolled back on their own, taking the fingers deeper.

"Look at that," Yuheng said. His voice had thickened. "You hate me and your ass is trying to keep my hand."

Mingzhou shook his head against the palm.

"No?"

Another jab against that spot, and Mingzhou's knees went.

Yuheng held him up with one arm around his waist.

"Say it with your mouth, then."

He lifted his hand.

"I hate you," Mingzhou panted. "I hate you, I hate..."

"Louder."

"...fuck me."

It came out of him cracked and furious.

He heard it ring faintly in the empty hall, and his whole face burned.

Behind him, Yuheng went completely still.

Then there was the rasp of a zip, and the heat of a cock sliding between his cheeks, wet and heavy.

"Say that again."

"Fuck me, you bastard."

Yuheng pushed in.

It was slow, and it was thick, and it stretched him until he felt every inch drag in.

Mingzhou's fingers scrabbled on the lid.

His elbow slid and struck the keys, and a chord crashed out into the dark, enormous and ugly.

It rang up into the rafters.

Neither of them stopped.

Yuheng gripped his hips and began to fuck him, deep and steady, with long strokes that pulled almost all the way out and drove back in.

The piano shook under Mingzhou's hands.

Every thrust made a low note hum in the strings.

"Is this what you wanted," Yuheng said through his teeth, "from him?"

"No."

"Tell me."

"He never... he wouldn't..." Mingzhou's voice cracked on a moan. "He wouldn't make me feel like this."

"No."

"He's kind."

"Yes." The thrust turned vicious. "And you came here to let him be kind to you."

Mingzhou reached back blindly, found Yuheng's wrist and held on.

He didn't know whether he meant to stop him or keep him there.

Yuheng's other hand went around to his cock and worked it, fast and tight, in time with the rhythm.

The pleasure built from the base of his spine, tight and unbearable.

"Come for me," Yuheng said.

"Not... not here..."

"Here."

Mingzhou came with a ragged cry, spilling over the black wood of the grand piano.

Yuheng followed seconds after, and he didn't knot.

He pulled out at the last moment and came across Mingzhou's lower back, hot and thick, with a groan Mingzhou felt in his own bones.

For a while there was nothing but breathing.

Then Yuheng's forehead came down between his shoulder blades, and stayed there.

His heart was hammering against Mingzhou's spine.

"You don't want to be knotted," Yuheng said into his shirt. "Not today. Is that it?"

Mingzhou was too wrecked to lie.

"Not by you," he said. "Not when I'm angry."

Yuheng was silent.

He straightened, found a handkerchief and cleaned Mingzhou's back with surprising care.

He pulled his trousers up for him. He did up the belt.

When he turned Mingzhou around, his face was unreadable again.

"Play me the bridge," Yuheng said.

Mingzhou stared at him.

"What?"

"The bridge," Yuheng said. "The last page of the suite."

"There is no bridge."

"There is."

Mingzhou shook his head. "It was never finished. Jinyan plays it as it is. It stops."

"Not that version." Yuheng's thumb brushed the bite on his neck, lightly. "On our wedding night, you hummed it in your sleep for a full minute."

All the blood left Mingzhou's face.

"I was awake the whole time," Yuheng said. "You've never once played it for me since."

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