Let It Happen
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
⚠️ [NSFW] This chapter contains explicit sexual content (18+ only).
The rain was still falling, a steady rhythm against the old windows, washing the world in silver.
Inside, in the quiet hush of the bookstore, the air felt warmer, charged, alive and almost sacred.
Zhan’s breath trembled as he pulled back from the kiss, just enough to rest his forehead against Yibo’s.
His eyes were still closed, lashes damp, his lips parted like he hadn’t finished speaking.
But there were no words left.
Only the thunder of his heartbeat, and the warmth of Yibo’s palms gently cupping his face.
They stayed like that… silent, breathing each other in.
Yibo didn’t rush.
He never did.
His thumbs brushed across Zhan’s cheekbones, so softly it felt like a memory.
His voice, when it came, was barely audible.
“You’re shaking…”
Zhan let out a soft, shaky laugh.
“I think… I’m overwhelmed.”
Yibo nodded against his forehead.
“Me too.”
A pause.
Zhan opened his eyes slowly.
Yibo was already watching him, gaze soft, adoring, like he still couldn’t believe Zhan had asked him to stay… kiss him… want him.
Zhan whispered.
“Is it always like this? The feeling… the fear, the clarity, the ache… all tangled together?”
Yibo exhaled through his nose, brushing a damp strand of hair away from Zhan’s temple.
“With you? Yeah. Always.”
Zhan’s chest fluttered, as if something inside him finally loosened.
He leaned forward again… not to kiss, just to press his face into the curve of Yibo’s neck, where it was warm and steady and safe.
His arms slowly slid around Yibo’s waist, holding tight like he might fall apart otherwise.
And Yibo? Yibo didn’t hesitate.
He gathered Zhan into him, arms wrapping firm and sure.
One hand cradled the back of Zhan’s head; the other folded around his shoulders, anchoring him in silence.
Zhan let out a shaky breath and let his weight rest fully, laying his head on Yibo’s shoulder.
They stayed like that, on the wooden floor, as the storm curled around the building.
Zhan spoke quietly against Yibo’s collarbone.
“Do you remember everything from that night? All of it?”
Yibo hesitated.
“Yeah… I remember everything.”
“Did I…”
Zhan pulled back slightly to look at him.
“Did I want you that night?”
Yibo’s expression didn’t change.
He answered honestly.
“Yes. You did. But I didn’t expect anything from you. I still don’t.”
Zhan nodded.
He believed him.
That trust sat heavy in his chest, warm and full.
“But now…”
Zhan paused, searching his thoughts.
“…Now I want to know what it’s like to feel it without the blur. Without doubt. With you… and only you.”
Yibo didn’t move.
He didn’t push.
He just whispered.
“Then let me show you slowly. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Zhan-ge. You’ve already given me more than I ever thought I could have.”
Zhan looked down, suddenly shy.
“Even now, I don’t know what I am. I don’t have a label. I’m still figuring it out.”
Yibo smiled, brushing his thumb against the edge of Zhan’s jaw.
“You don’t need a label. You just need to be okay with what you feel. And I’m here for all of it.”
“Whether it’s messy or clear. Whether we’re kissing or just… sitting like this for hours.”
Zhan’s heart tugged again.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this safe in someone’s arms.
Not just loved, but understood.
No pressure.
No expectations.
Just Yibo.
Always gentle.
Always waiting.
He laid his head back on Yibo’s shoulder, the silence wrapping around them again… not heavy this time, but soft.
Like a shared breath.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The air between them pulsed with everything unsaid… the silence, longing, hurt, want.
Zhan’s eyes flicked to Yibo’s mouth, then back up.
He didn’t move.
Not yet.
But Yibo did.
His hand reached up slowly, fingers brushing Zhan’s cheek like he was afraid he’d vanish if he touched him too fast.
Zhan leaned into that touch, lashes low… then lifted his gaze to meet Yibo’s eyes.
“Yibo… kiss me again.”
A whisper, but soaked in want.
“Please…”
Something in Yibo’s eyes flickered, restraint breaking apart inch by inch.
And when Yibo kissed him this time… really kissed him…
It wasn’t tender.
It was hungry.
No hesitation, no gentleness now.
Their mouths crashed together like a spark to dry kindling… hot, urgent, and starved.
Zhan gasped into him, and Yibo swallowed the sound like it belonged to him.
Their lips parted, tongues meeting in a mess of heat and breath and aching familiarity.
Zhan clutched at Yibo’s shoulders, nails digging in through the fabric, dragging him impossibly closer.
He could feel the tremor in Yibo’s body, the restraint unraveling second by second.
Their rhythm was desperate, uneven kisses broken by shallow breaths and the quiet, guttural sounds neither of them meant to make.
Yibo’s hand cupped the back of Zhan’s neck, the other splayed across his lower back, pulling him in until there was nothing left between them.
Like he couldn’t stand even a thread of space between them.
Zhan whimpered against his mouth, not from weakness… but from the weight of finally letting go.
Yibo responded with a low groan, his fingers tightening, mouth devouring him like he’d die if he stopped.
There was nothing slow now.
Nothing gentle.
Just everything they’d been holding in, all of it, set loose in a kiss that burned at the edges.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Zhan knew… if Yibo didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to.
And he didn’t want him to…
Then, suddenly — Zhan’s phone buzzed against the floorboards beside them.
He froze, lips still brushing Yibo’s, breathing uneven.
“…It’s Ma.”
He murmured, voice low and breathless as he glanced at the screen.
Yibo exhaled sharply, forehead resting against Zhan’s for a beat as he tried to calm his pulse.
“Of course it is.”
He muttered, voice low more dazed than amused.
His hand stayed right where it was, fingers flexing slightly against the small of Zhan’s back, like letting go wasn’t an option yet.
Zhan answered the call, trying to steady his breath.
“Ma… yeah, I’m fine. It’s raining a lot here too.”
Yibo got up quietly, lips curved in a knowing smile.
He glanced at Zhan, pressed a finger to his lips, nodded toward the door and mouthed—
“I’ll be right back.”
Then he turned, slipped his feet into the spare slippers Zhan kept by the bookshelf, and stepped out into the rain without another word.
Zhan watched him go, eyebrows knitting in confusion, still holding the phone to his ear.
“No, Ma. I don’t think I’ll come home tonight.”
He said, his voice softening.
“I’ll just stay here in the store. It’s already late, and the rain’s getting worse.”
His mother’s voice fussed on the other end for a bit, but Zhan soothed her with a few familiar reassurances before hanging up.
The room felt quiet again… charged, expectant.
The air still held the heat from their kiss, but the emptiness where Yibo had been moments ago left Zhan suddenly aware of the chill.
His gaze drifted to the door, wondering where the hell Yibo had gone in that rain.
He walked to the counter and switched off the main lights.
The store slipped into a dim glow, lit only by the soft yellow lamp that always burned in the reading corner.
Shadows of bookshelves stretched long across the wooden floor.
Outside, rain still poured rhythmic, relentless.
Just then, the front door creaked open and Yibo stepped back inside.
Soaked.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, droplets clinging to his lashes.
His cargoes and white tee clung to him like a second skin, rain streaming down his jaw and arms.
In his hand was a tightly wrapped plastic bag, held protectively under his arm.
Zhan blinked.
“Where did you go—?”
Yibo stepped inside, dripping wet, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
He then turned back and pulled the metal shutter down fully, sealing them inside.
The clatter echoed once and then faded under the hush of the rain.
“We need something important.”
He said, lifting the plastic bag slightly.
His tone was casual, but his eyes didn’t waver from Zhan’s.
Zhan arched a brow.
“What is it?”
Yibo just gave a little shrug, then walked over to the counter and carefully set the plastic bag down—not tossed, but placed, deliberate and quiet.
He met Zhan’s gaze again.
“Didn’t want to be unprepared.”
Realization hit Zhan a beat later… color rushing to his cheeks, his throat suddenly dry.
His lips curved slowly.
“You’re crazy.”
Yibo cupped Zhan’s jaw, his touch firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over his lips before pulling him into a kiss.
It was deep, rougher than Zhan had expected, but not in a bad way.
Zhan responded immediately, his hands gripping the front of Yibo’s T-shirt, pulling him closer.
He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, his voice hoarse.
“Come with me.”
He pulled Yibo into the small back room, their hands still locked.
Zhan’s working space, with a low mattress pushed to one side and a soft old throw spread across it.
They collapsed onto the mattress, laughter and breath mixing with the sound of the storm just beyond the walls.
Zhan’s back hit the mattress with a soft thud, Yibo on top of him.
Zhan cupped Yibo’s face, his thumbs grazing the sharp lines of his jaw, eyes locked on his like he was afraid to blink and lose him.
“Stay tonight?”
Yibo’s eyes softened instantly.
He lowered his head and kissed the inside of Zhan’s wrist, the gesture quiet and reverent, like a promise.
“There’s nowhere else I want to be, ge.”
Zhan yanked Yibo’s damp tee over his head, tossing it somewhere into the shadows.
“You’re soaked.”
He panted.
Yibo smirked, leaning down to kiss his jaw.
“Worth it.”
Zhan laughed softly, but it turned into a gasp when Yibo’s mouth found his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“Ohh… Yibo…”
Yibo murmured, his voice low and rough.
“I want you… right now… right here.”
He growled low in his throat, hands moving to Zhan’s waist, tugging him forward.
His voice came rough, tight with tension.
“Tell me you want this, ge…”
His eyes searched Zhan’s – fierce, but soft underneath.
“Tell me you want me…”
Zhan’s breath hitched, his lips swollen from the kiss, cheeks flushed.
His breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.
He nodded but words tumbled out too, raw and certain.
“I do. I want this…”
A whisper.
“I want you…”
Yibo didn’t need any more encouragement.
He pulled Zhan’s T-shirt over his head, throwing it aside before leaning down to kiss his neck, biting at the sensitive skin there, making Zhan gasp.
His hands were rough as they moved over Zhan’s chest, finding his nipples.
He rubbed his thumbs firmly over them, circling and teasing until they peaked, then pinched just hard enough to make Zhan moan before continuing lower.
Zhan whimpered beneath him, breathless and aching, back arching into every touch.
Yibo’s hand trailed down, slow and deliberate, until his fingers reached the waistband of Zhan’s jeans, all while his mouth never leaving Zhan’s, kissing him hard and wet between shallow breaths.
He unbuttoned them with a gentle tug, his gaze never once leaving Zhan’s eyes.
Then, slipping past the denim and into the heat beneath his boxer briefs, Yibo’s hand found him… hard, aching.
He began to stroke, slow and purposeful, his thumb teasing the sensitive tip through the fabric before sliding under to wrap around his fully erect length.
Zhan’s breath hitched sharply, his hips instinctively rolled forward.
“Ah-hh…Yi…bo…”
He moaned, breath catching in his throat, the sound trembling with pleasure.
His response was desperate… his body begging for more.
Zhan’s hands found the waistband of Yibo’s cargoes, tugging them down with one swift motion.
Clothes hit the floor in a trail behind them.
Yibo was already hard, thick and aching, his length hot and heavy as it pressed against Zhan’s thigh.
Zhan could feel his own pulse racing, his skin burning where Yibo touched him.
Yibo’s mouth trailed lower… down Zhan’s jawline, then along the curve of his throat.
He kissed the dip of his collarbone, tongue flicking lightly against the skin, and Zhan shivered beneath him.
Slowly, Yibo moved down to his chest, nuzzling until his lips found one of Zhan’s peaked nipples.
He licked it once, then again, soft and wet… then his lips closed around the peak, sucking gently at first, then biting just enough to make Zhan jolt.
A sharp moan tore from Zhan’s throat.
“Ahh… God, you’re driving me fucking crazy…”
Zhan breathed, arching into him, his hands gripping Yibo’s hair.
Yibo smirked, his tongue tracing gently over Zhan’s nipple, soft and almost apologetic, as if soothing the bite he’d just left behind.
But his other hand moved with purpose, pinching the untouched sensitive peak hard enough to pull another sharp gasp from Zhan’s throat.
“Making you want more…”
He murmured.
He kissed down Zhan’s chest, over his stomach, every inch mapped like a treasure.
Zhan trembled, hands in his hair, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
Yibo moved lower, kissing along the cut of Zhan’s V-line, his lips ghosting over the skin then paused just above his hips.
His eyes darkened, hunger and awe flickering across his face as he took in the sight of Zhan’s flushed skin, trembling thighs, and the way his erection curved up… full and desperate, thick against the line of his stomach.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it.
He exhaled like he was about to devour Zhan.
Without a word, he settled between Zhan’s thighs, hands spreading them gently apart as he leaned in.
He started slow, lips ghosting over the inside of Zhan’s thigh, planting open-mouthed kisses with a hunger.
His tongue followed, gliding upward toward the crease, letting his breath fan out hotly over sensitive flesh.
Zhan gasped, his fingers curling tightly into the mattress.
“B-Bo…”
He moaned, voice breaking slightly.
Yibo glanced up through his lashes, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Then his hand curled around Zhan’s erected shaft, fingers firm yet tender.
His mouth hovered over the flushed tip, his breath a heated whisper across it, making Zhan twitch beneath the attention.
And then, slowly, deliberately, Yibo began to lick, with long, slow strokes from base to tip, tracing the sensitive head with the flat of his tongue and tasting every inch.
He looked up.
“Tell me what you need, ge…”
Zhan’s hips twitched slightly, breath hitching… but his eyes were dark with want.
“I… I need your mouth on me… Take it, Yibo. Take all of me. And don’t stop until I can’t breathe.”
Yibo’s gaze flickered, dark and hungry.
Then, in one slow, fluid motion, he took Zhan’s entire length into his mouth, lips sealing around the base as his throat relaxed to take him in fully.
The heat, the wetness, the slick pull of Yibo’s mouth sliding down in one seamless motion sent a jolt of blinding pleasure straight through Zhan’s core.
His head slammed back into the mattress, the veins at the sides of his neck bulging, visible beneath flushed skin as his body arched with pleasure and a strangled moan, lost in the shockwave of sensation.
“Ohh fuckkk… Yiiibo…”
A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat.
The first few strokes were slow and teasing, Yibo’s tongue swirling around the sensitive swollen head, drawing a low helpless moan from Zhan’s lips.
Then it turned wild… sloppy, hungry, his moans vibrating against Zhan’s hard length as he sank deeper with each movement.
Yibo’s grip tightened on Zhan’s thighs, keeping him wide open and holding him in place.
Zhan was falling apart beneath him, legs twitching, one hand tangled in Yibo’s hair, the other gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles went white.
His words spilled out in a breathless moan.
“Shit, Yibo… I… I’m close…”
Yibo pulled off in a shaky breath, lips swollen and slick with Zhan’s precum, chest rising in a ragged hungry rhythm, eyes dark with want.
He pressed a kiss to Zhan’s hip before trailing back up, face flushed and damp with sweat.
Zhan stared at him, panting, eyes glassy with heat.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I wanna come with you.”
Yibo said, breath catching.
“Together.”
Zhan nodded, panting, barely processing anything through the haze.
“Yeah… yeah, okay… together…”
He could still feel Yibo’s mouth on him, the ache lingering, the need clawing up from deep inside.
Yibo reached for the plastic cover, grabbed the bottle, popped it open.
The smell was sharp, familiar.
Zhan’s breath caught as his gaze dropped… Yibo was fully hard, his length thick, veined, and already leaking at the tip, heavy with arousal.
The flushed deep red head bobbing slightly with every breath he took.
He bit down on his bottom lip, throat working as he swallowed hard as heat rushing through him.
Then, eyes dragging slowly back up.
Yibo didn’t say a word.
He squeezed lube into his palm and rubbed it between his fingers, warming it, coating them thoroughly.
His movements were slow, purposeful.
Then his hand moved lower, between Zhan’s thighs, slick fingers brushing gently where he needed him most.
Zhan’s body tensed at first, a mix of nerves and unfamiliarity.
Yibo was patient, his touch slow, soothing and reassuring.
He leaned in, lips brushing Zhan’s, and whispered softly.
“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”
Zhan nodded, swallowing hard.
He was deliberate, slow at first as he prepared Zhan, his fingers gently easing inside him, working him open with careful precision.
Zhan’s breath hitched, his hands clutching the mattress as Yibo’s fingers moved in and out, stretching him, making him ready.
Zhan tensed with a gasp, breath catching, hand flying to Yibo’s arm.
“Breathe…. just breathe, ge.”
Yibo whispered, kissing his temple.
“Does it hurt?”
Yibo asked, his voice low, his breath harsh.
“It… feels weird.”
Zhan muttered, voice tight.
“But not bad…”
“Mm-hmm… you’re doing so good…”
Then Yibo eased his fingers out of Zhan.
He reached into the cover and pulled out the condom sachet, tore it open with his teeth—
“No…”
Zhan said suddenly, breathless.
Yibo paused, brow furrowed as he looked at him.
“Hm?”
Zhan met his gaze, cheeks flushed, voice low but steady.
“We don’t need it. I don’t need protection from you. I trust you, Yibo… I just want to feel you completely. Nothing in the way.”
For a moment, Yibo just stared at him.
Then a slow, tender smile spread across his face.
He set the sachet aside, then leaned down and kissed Zhan… softer than ever before.
“Ge…”
Yibo whispered against his lips.
“You wanna stay like this? Or turn around for me?”
Zhan’s breath hitched.
He met Yibo’s eyes, voice low but certain.
“I want to see you when you’re inside me.”
Yibo gave a small nod, his smile warm, gaze soft.
He braced himself above Zhan, one hand gripping his hip as he aligned their bodies.
And then, Yibo lined himself up.
“Ready?”
Zhan looked up at him, eyes dark and glassy.
“Yeah. Just… go slow.”
Yibo nodded softly, brushing Zhan’s hair back from his forehead.
“Don’t worry, ge… I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”
Then slowly and carefully, Yibo slid inside him.
Inch by inch, a soft groan escaped as the tight heat swallowed him.
Zhan let out a sharp cry, his fingers digging into Yibo’s forearms, trying to anchor himself through the stretch.
The stretch burned at first.
“Ahh… fuck, wait… wait!”
Yibo paused, holding him, kissing his jaw, his cheek, whispering—
“It’s okay. I’ve got you… baobei.”
Zhan breathed hard through his nose, blinking fast.
“Shit… you’re big…”
Yibo laughed softly, strained.
“And… you’re tight as hell.”
The stretch was painful, but not unbearable.
After a moment, Zhan nodded.
“Okay, move.”
Yibo pulled back and pushed in again, a little deeper.
His fingers tightened on Zhan’s hip.
Zhan’s moans shifted… from sharp discomfort to stunned, trembling pleasure.
Slowly, the pain faded.
Replaced with something fuller.
Deeper.
Warmer.
Yibo’s thrusts were slow at first, giving Zhan time to adjust, but each movement was deliberate, deep, testing the boundaries between pleasure and pain.
It was intense, the way Yibo took his time, ensuring Zhan was comfortable, but also showing the control he had over the situation.
The control that Zhan wanted, needed, but didn’t know how to ask for.
Zhan’s breath came faster, his hands sliding up Yibo’s back as he moved with him, meeting his thrusts.
Then slowly every deep thrust of Yibo’s hard shaft inside him sent shivers down Zhan’s spine.
Zhan’s moans grew louder, his fingers digging into Yibo’s back, scratching down his spine.
“Oh g-god… i-it feels… so good…”
Yibo’s rhythm built, hips snapping into Zhan’s, the slick slap of skin on skin filling the room.
Zhan was panting, legs wrapped around Yibo’s waist, his eyes wild as they locked with Yibo’s—burning, desperate, needing more.
“Faster…”
Zhan groaned, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
Yibo responded, speeding up, but he kept the pace controlled, never rushing, always mindful of how Zhan’s body responded.
Zhan’s hands slid down Yibo’s back, his nails digging into the muscle there, urging him to go harder, faster, to push him to the edge.
Zhan groaned again.
“Fuck! yeah… like that… do it harder, Yibo… I want it harder…”
Yibo grunted, sweat dripping from his temple.
His breath faltered as his thrusts grew deeper.
The way Zhan looked right now, flushed and sweaty, whimpering beneath him and begging for more, ignited something wild in his chest and shattered his control.
He leaned in closer, cursed under his breath, eyes locked on Zhan.
“You’re making me lose my mind, ge…”
Zhan’s head rolled back, eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in soundless bliss as Yibo began to move harder now, rougher, each thrust stealing the breath from his lungs.
“You’re hitting so good… it… it’s… god, don’t stop, don’t stop, Bo…”
Their moans filled the space, tangled with rain hammering the roof.
Yibo leaned down, kissed Zhan hard, almost desperate.
Thrusting deeper until Zhan was clawing at him, begging.
“More… I want mo…re… please… ahh… just like that… oh fuck, I… I’m so close… you’re gonna make me come…”
Yibo moved faster, harder, pushing Zhan over the edge.
Yibo’s voice broke, heavy and breathless.
“Yeah… yeah… I’m, I’m right there… gonna come too… fuck! I can’t hold it…”
Zhan gasped, his grip on Yibo tightening.
“Come inside me… I want you… I want… all of you inside me…”
Zhan wanted it, wanted to feel Yibo finish, wanted to feel Yibo claim him completely.
Yibo leaned down, kissing Zhan deeply, his body moving with a steady rhythm.
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Zhan’s neck that turned into a desperate bite on his shoulder, hard and instinctive as his whole body tensed, unable to hold back the wave of pleasure crashing through him.
Zhan cried out, back arching, his nails dragging hard down Yibo’s back.
Thin red lines bloomed in their wake, a sharp contrast to the slick heat between them, both of them trembling — seconds from falling apart.
Yibo took Zhan’s lips again, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he reached his climax.
A guttural moan ripped from his throat as his hips jerked… then stilled.
His whole body trembled as he buried himself deep and came hard.
Deep groan escaped against Zhan’s ear as he spilled inside him, his hands gripping Zhan’s hips tightly, overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being one with him.
He barely caught his breath before pulling out, then slipped down and wrapped his mouth around Zhan’s leaking shaft again… sucking hard.
Zhan nearly screamed, tears sliding sideways from the corners of his eyes as pleasure ripped through him.
His fingers curled in Yibo’s hair, thighs clenching around his head.
“Ahh… Yibo… please… don’t stop, don’t stop… fu-fuck… I’m coming… I… I can’t stop…”
He came with a strangled cry, his whole body seizing as pleasure tore through him.
Yibo didn’t stop, didn’t flinch, just swallowed every hot drop like he was addicted, moaning softly around him, his tongue lapping up every drop with hunger.
Licking him clean like he was starving for it, like Zhan was the only thing he’d ever crave.
And when he crawled back up, Zhan grabbed his face and kissed him hard… desperate, deep; tasting himself on Yibo’s lips like it only made him want more.
Yibo murmured against his lips.
“You taste… so… good.”
Zhan gasped against his lips.
“I’ve never felt anything like this…”
He said shakily, brushing his nose against Yibo’s.
“You’re insanely good at this.”
Zhan looked into Yibo’s eyes, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he bit his lower lip.
His voice was low, thick with desire.
“You keep doing this and I’m never letting you leave this room.”
Yibo’s breath hitched, a soft chuckle escaping him as his fingers traced light circles along Zhan’s jaw.
His eyes shone with warmth and something fierce… something that belonged only to Zhan.
“I want you again. I want you always…”
They both leaned in, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling, caught in the quiet heat between them.
They lay there, flushed, sweating, breath stuttering.
The room smelled like rain and sex and warmth.
Yibo reached for a bottle of water and some tissues kept nearby, gently cleaning himself before carefully wiping down Zhan as well.
Zhan curled against him, one leg over his hip, their bodies still trembling from the aftershocks.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Because there was nothing left to say, just that they were there.
Together.
They lay in silence, just breathing each other in, the warmth between them laced with something deeper… something unspoken.
Zhan shifted, eyes tracing the shape of Yibo’s face.
He hesitated, then asked softly.
“Did… all this happen that night too? The night I don’t remember?”
Yibo blinked, his brows lifting gently.
Then he smiled, small and reassuring, his hand brushing Zhan’s hair back from his forehead.
“No, Zhan-ge.”
He murmured.
“It didn’t go that far. today was our first time.”
Zhan exhaled slowly, tension slipping from his chest.
There was relief in his expression – relief, and something tender in the way he looked at Yibo, like he could finally claim the memory as his own.
“Good.”
He whispered.
“I wanted to remember it… because it was our first time.”
Yibo’s smile deepened, and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of Zhan’s nose.
“Me too.”
They lay together, tangled in each other’s arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal.
Yibo kissed Zhan’s forehead, holding him close.
“I love you.”
Yibo whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Zhan smiled, a soft, content smile.
“I love you more.”
Outside, the storm raged on.
But in that room, in that moment, there was only peace.
They lay there in the soft light creeping through the shutter slats, skin tangled, hearts steadying, the air still carrying the scent of rain and something new…
Something just theirs.
Covered only by a thin blanket, they didn’t feel the chill; the heat of their bodies was enough to keep them warm as they slowly drifted into sleep.
And in that room, in that moment, there was only peace.
[To be continued…]
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Author’s Note:
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The Red Ribbon 