"I–I didn't…" he stammered. He could feel the ghost of Zhong Yun's exhale caressing his cheek – since when had they become so close? – and he involuntarily shrank back only for his back to bump into the arm of the couch. There was nowhere for him to escape to.
Qin Zhen's breath hitched on his throat when he stared into Zhong Yun's eyes. He felt himself frozen, spellbound by the intensity within those dark orbs that ensnared him.
Zhong Yun tilted his head slightly. The space between their lips were so infinitesimal that Qin Zhen could feel their phantom strokes and brushes when the young man pleaded softly, "Let me in…"
In that split second, Qin Zhen was disoriented, his mind turning into mush from their close proximity. What was Zhong Yun talking about? His lips, his heart, or his pants? Because he was damn sure that he was not imagining the hard and hot length which was pressing against his thigh right now.
