Chapter 11: Slow

Xiao Chen kissed him before the answer was finished.

It was not the kiss from the night of the heat.

That one had been hunger, and this one was slow.

Shen Yan made a small sound and melted against him, hands gripping his shirt, tasting of salt.

"There's no heat," Shen Yan whispered into his mouth. "It's not that. I'm just."

"I know."

"I just want you."

"That's better."

Xiao Chen lifted him onto the edge of the table and stepped between his knees.

He kissed his jaw, his throat, the pulse jumping under his ear.

"I was wrong about you," he murmured.

"About what?"

"Everything. I wanted to be the one who brought you in. You were already in."

He pulled the jumper over the boy's head, then the shirt beneath it, and laid his mouth on the bare collarbone.

Shen Yan shivered and laughed softly.

"That tickles."

"Good."

He carried him to the bedroom, not hurrying, and laid him on the sheets.

The lamp was off. The light from the street ran gold across the wall.

Xiao Chen undressed himself without taking his eyes from the boy's face.

Then he lay down beside him and simply looked.

Shen Yan's chest rose and fell fast.

His cock was already hard, and slick had begun to gather between his thighs.

The scent was natural and sweet, nothing like the thick wave of the heat.

It smelled like him.

"You're staring," Shen Yan said.

"Yes."

"Say something."

"You are the most honest person I have ever met," Xiao Chen said.

"And you lied to me for a week, and I cannot make myself stay angry."

Shen Yan's eyes shone.

"Then kiss me again."

He did.

He kissed him until the boy was breathless, and then he moved lower, and took his time about it.

He licked a long line down the center of the chest and circled the navel.

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