Sang You was drunk.
The young master’s health was fragile, and he rarely drank alcohol, so no one had expected that when Sang You got drunk, he would be so… wild?
Sang You’s face was flushed, his eyes hazy, his breath thick with the smell of alcohol. As he flailed wildly in the back seat of the car, he also began taking off his jacket and clothes.
No matter how Gong Ze tried to stop him, it was useless. Suppressing a laugh, he watched the young master kick off his shoes and happily sing, then suddenly burst into tears, throwing his arms around Gong Ze’s neck and saying how scared he had been these past few days — how much pressure he had felt — how afraid he was of failing and being ridiculed.
“Sob… I was also afraid of embarrassing you… afraid you’d be disappointed in me… sob…”
“I don’t want you to stop liking me. I hate it when you’re cold to me!”
“Gong Ze… I love you so much…”
The young master, his collar wide open, pressed his hands over his eye sockets, kneeling astride Gong Ze’s body, choking on his sobs.
Suddenly, between sobs, he cursed loudly: “But you don’t know anything about it, sob. You’re a jerk! Ptooey!”
Gong Ze struggled desperately to hold back his laughter.
He looked up at the delicate chest, exposed through the young master’s open collar, flushed pink from the alcohol, rising and falling with the young master’s crying.
Gong Ze reached out and placed his palm over it. His fingertips traced upward, all the way to the young master’s pointed Adam’s apple.
He glanced briefly at the driver. The driver kept his eyes straight ahead, raised the partition, and turned up the music to maximum.
Now, the small space in the back seat belonged only to the two of them.
Gong Ze let Sang You sit on his lap, gently stroking the hair standing up at the back of the young master’s head. His long, narrow eyes were full of laughter. “I know. I’ll never dislike you.”
“You’re full of shit!”
Sang You, dizzy with drink, swore.
Gong Ze raised an eyebrow — he didn’t expect the young master to know how to use curse words.
Sang You shook his head. The world in front of him was filled with swirling colors. It took his eyes a long effort to finally focus on the man’s face.
“I, hic, I don’t believe you…”
The black-bellied man, full of wicked amusement, said “Oh?” “How would you like me to prove it?”
“Just…” Sang You swayed his body wildly. Smack! — he slapped his hands on either side of Gong Ze’s face, then pursed his lips. “Prove it like this…”
Gong Ze, with his face smarting on both sides: …
Half amused, half exasperated, he held onto Sang You’s waist to keep him from falling off, letting the young master grab his face.
Sang You’s wet lips kissed his face randomly twice, leaving a ring of moisture, but didn’t land on the right spot even once.
“Weird…”
Sang You, reeking of alcohol, frowned and leaned back, then tilted his head forward, bringing his face close to Gong Ze’s. His lashes fluttered as he stared at Gong Ze’s mouth.
Then he sat up straight and touched his own mouth. Gong Ze could practically see a row of tiny question marks popping up above his flustered, rumpled head.
“Heh-heh… I can’t aim right…”
The young master was shocked.
Then, with a look of shock and grief, he pointed at Gong Ze. “You’ve gone too far — you put a defensive spell on your mouth!”
Gong Ze: …
The system: Pfft! …Sorry, I couldn’t help it.
Gong Ze raised an eyebrow: You’re still here?
The system’s smile froze: …Uh-oh.
Gong Ze gave a cold laugh, grabbed the system — which was pretending to be dead — and threw it into the penalty box. He turned his attention back to Sang You, who was still bent over, stretching his mouth out in a determined effort to kiss him.
He hadn’t expected his young master to have a secret dream of being a magical girl… Heh.
Cute.
Gong Ze leaned his body back, guiding the young master in his tireless pursuit of his lips.
With one hand supporting Sang You’s slender waist, just as the young master was about to cry in frustration, Gong Ze tilted his head slightly and took the initiative to meet the young master’s alcohol-laden softness…
It was like a soft, velvety Black Forest cake paired with cherry wine.
First came a hint of bitterness.
Then, an overwhelming, intoxicating sweetness.
Gong Ze could hear his own heartbeat — thump, thump — and felt his own eagerness, so raw and unpolished. Distractedly, he mocked himself for having been abstinent for too long.
His strong, knuckled hand cradled the back of the young master’s fuzzy head. Gong Ze closed his eyes and leaned forward, taking more aggressively.
All the noise fell silent in an instant.
The chaotic car was submerged in warm, gentle tides.
Satisfied, the young master instantly calmed down. He was as well-behaved as a little boy, slowly closing his thick lashes and his eyes, tilting his face up slightly to meet and sustain the man taking from him.
When they opened their eyes again, the world seemed to tremble.
Sang You lay down.
He looked up at the spinning world. His gorgeous, flushed face radiated scorching heat. His limp hand still clutched Gong Ze’s tie.
Those eyes, heavy with love and desire, stared straight into Gong Ze’s eyes.
His grip exerted no force at all, yet it was as if he were holding the fiercest monster in the world.
Gong Ze’s throat tightened. He let himself fall, covering the young master beneath him. But he didn’t proceed further. Instead, he stroked Sang You’s head, his voice hoarse.
“Wait until we get home.”
The car was too small, the temperature too hot from the heater, the hygiene questionable, and there were also other people around.
“You’ll sweat a lot. You’ll catch a cold.”
And he didn’t want his young master’s sounds to be heard by anyone else.
When you like someone, you want to kiss their lips and explore their body everywhere. But when you love someone, you learn to restrain your impulses.
The young master, still young and unaccustomed to restraint, turned his head uncomfortably and rubbed his mouth against Gong Ze’s palm in a spoiled, coaxing manner.
He mumbled vaguely, “Gong Ze…”
“Mm. I know,” Gong Ze’s brow and eyes were gentle. “I love you too.”
The car arrived at the Sang residence.
Gong Ze took off his jacket, draped it over Sang You, and carried him out of the car. He handed his briefcase to the auntie who came up to greet them and instructed softly, “Make some hangover relief warm milk… No, better make hangover relief porridge. Don’t use rice — it’ll upset his stomach. Use millet.”
“Keep it warm in the kitchen. Don’t bring it up. It’s late — you should all go to bed.”
“Yes, sir.”
The auntie immediately went to prepare it.
Gong Ze carried the young master upstairs, laid him on the bed, turned on the air conditioner and set it to a warmer temperature, then unwrapped the jacket from the young master’s head.
Meeting Sang You’s dizzy, dazed eyes, Gong Ze laughed softly and began to unbutton the young master’s clothes.
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