Hot flashes

The night was deep, and all was quiet. Outside the tent, even the sound of the watchtower had become distant and indistinct. Only the early winter wind of the north occasionally swept across the tent roof, making a low, mournful sound.

The residual warmth from the underfloor heating in the room perfectly dispelled the chill, and the cool fragrance of pine and cypress drifted quietly in the air.

Zhou Heng lay on his side on the couch against the wall, facing the wall, wrapped in a quilt that wasn't thick but was warm enough, his breathing even and deep.

He even unconsciously smacked his lips, letting out a very light, satisfied breath, his body stretching slightly in his sleep before curling back up, like a little animal that had found a warm nest.

A few feet away, on the larger and more elaborately furnished master couch, Xiao Jue was not asleep.

He leaned against a soft cushion, a brocade quilt casually draped over his body, half of his body hidden in darkness, only the side of his face closest to the small table and lamp was outlined by the faint, flickering candlelight, revealing its deep contours.

He wasn't holding any books; he was simply gazing quietly and intently at the curled-up figure on the opposite folding bed.

The gaze, as if it were tangible, slowly and inch by inch traced Zhou Heng's shoulders, which appeared exceptionally thin due to his side-lying position. It followed the slight curve of his spine downwards, stopping at the waist that was covered by a thin blanket and rose and fell gently with his breath. Finally, it landed on the feet that were curled up because of the cold, with only a little bit of the ankle showing.

That night... suddenly entered Xiao Jue's mind.

The scene in my memory is exceptionally clear: under the candlelight, the young man was so drunk that he was unconscious. His outer robe, which was stained with the smell of alcohol, was stripped off, leaving him only in his plain white undergarments. He was placed helplessly on the bed that belonged to Xiao Jue.

He was flushed from the alcohol and rubbed impatiently against the cool silk beneath him. His collar was disheveled, revealing a patch of pinkish chest. His lips were slightly parted, and he exhaled a soft, alcohol-laden breath.

Fingertips brushed against the skin, which was unusually sensitive due to intoxication, eliciting unconscious, kitten-like tremors and muffled moans.

Vulnerable and completely dependent, she was a stark contrast to the cunning and cowardly soldier she was during the day, who racked her brains to come up with ideas and whose eyes were bright yet sly.

This contrast, like the strongest liquor, instantly ignited the dormant desire for control and destruction deep within Xiao Jue's blood.

He remembered how he slowly and steadily unwrapped that defenseless gift.

That night, he let himself immerse himself in this one-sided, silent conquest. There was no tenderness, only the most primal possession and marking.

Zhou Heng only whimpered and struggled instinctively at the most intense moments, but was easily suppressed.

At this moment, memory and reality overlap. The young man sleeping peacefully on the couch by the wall intertwines with the figure on the night bed where he had given in to his every whim.

Xiao Jue's eyes were as deep as an ancient well. All the calmness, dignity, and composure he displayed during the day had subsided, revealing something more primal and intense beneath.

He was so focused on what he was watching that his breathing rhythm unconsciously changed slightly.

Finally, he moved.

The movements were extremely light, making almost no sound.

His gaze never left Zhou Heng's back, as if the sleeping, ignorant man was the strongest catalyst.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his breathing inevitably deepened.

The candlelight cast a blurry, swaying shadow on the brocade quilt as he moved his hands.

The dual stimulation of sight and touch is amplified many times over in the silence and darkness.

I imagine that night.

Every detail is magnified at this moment, becoming the most powerful aphrodisiac.

The inner room remained silent, with only a faint, peculiar scent, characteristic of male arousal, mingling with the cool fragrance of pine and cypress trees, permeating the air.

Xiao Jue's breathing gradually became heavy, but he restrained himself and did not make too much noise; only the rise and fall of his chest became slightly more noticeable.

Fine beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, sliding down the cold, handsome profile and disappearing into his collar.

His gaze remained fixed on Zhou Heng, as if he were surveying, licking, and possessing him with his eyes.

Imagine what it would be like if I walked over now, tore off that cumbersome inner garment, and covered this body that now belonged to him again.

Zhou Heng would wake up with a start, his eyes widening, revealing a look of fear and confusion.

She remained fast asleep, emitting soft, pitiful whimpers just like those from that night.

Fine beads of sweat gradually seeped from his forehead, sliding down his sharp jawline and disappearing into his collar.

His lips were pressed tightly together, and his jawline was taut with sharp lines, locking any possible sounds deep in his throat.

Only those eyes shone brightly in the dim light, like a wild beast eyeing its prey, fixed intently on the person on the couch.

These images were like the strongest liquor, burning his blood, his muscles tensed, and his back arched slightly, like a fully drawn bow.

Sweat soaked the back of his undershirt, and his heavy breathing was almost impossible to conceal, creating a clear and dangerous rhythm in the silent room.

His gaze was fixed on Zhou Heng, as if he wanted to dismantle and devour the sleeping man through his eyes.

Finally, after who knows how much time had passed.

All movement suddenly stopped, leaving only the violent heaving of his chest.

A moment later, he slowly opened his eyes. The fierce storm in his eyes subsided slightly, but the unfathomable darkness and desire for control became even more intense.

He got up and cleaned himself up.

Then, he looked at Zhou Heng again.

The young man on the couch seemed disturbed by the slight noise. He unconsciously frowned in his sleep, mumbled something, turned over, and lay flat on his back. The blanket slipped down a bit, revealing his delicate collarbone and a small patch of chest skin, which gleamed with a warm, ivory-like luster in the dim light.

Xiao Jue's Adam's apple bobbed again.

He silently lifted the covers and got out of bed, stepping barefoot onto the soft carpet. He walked to the folding chair and looked down at the unguarded sleeping face.

After looking for a long time, he finally reached out, his fingertips hovering above Zhou Heng's brow, almost touching the slight furrow, but in the end he only traced it in the air.

He bent down, pulled up the blanket that had slipped off, and carefully covered Zhou Heng up again, tucking his shoulders in completely. His movements were even described as gentle.

After doing all this, he turned around, returned to his bed, lay down, and closed his eyes.