Before He Juan knew it, their pheromones had started to fill every corner of the bedroom. Lavender and peppermint, rosewood and whiskey, they entangled intimately with each other until he could no longer ascertain which one belonged to whom. And such a notion sent a zing of thrill down He Juan's spine as if their scent had combined into one.
"Gege…" Mu Yuze whispered in between their maddening kisses. This time, he grew bolder as his hand stroked He Juan right on his swelling gland, eliciting a strangled growl from the latter. As a result, He Juan's kisses became even wilder, deeper as if he wanted his last breath to be the air Mu Yuze exhaled.
Mu Yuze was the personification of gasoline to the searing inferno in his heart. No, gasoline was an utter understatement – he was the fucking bomb itself, destroying every single bit of He Juan's self-control into smithereens. Every single time without fail.
