"Is it not strange…" Ningyan frowned, taking a step back, hostility rising around him like dark smoke. "…to feel jealous of myself?"
His violet eyes narrowed. "And this is the second time you—"
His words never finished.
Lan Meishan moved so fast Ningyan barely saw it. And then, warm lips crashed against his, hard, deep and possessively.
Lan Meishan's hand cupped the side of his face, fingers threading into his white hair as he kissed him like a man who had restrained himself for far too long.
Ningyan froze.
His mind went blank. His body stiffened.
But only for a breath.
Then instinct took over.
His fingers clenched Meishan's robes, one hand gripping tightly at his waist, the other twisting in his sleeve.
And he kissed back without hesitation and thought as though his body remembered what his mind could not.
Heat exploded through him.
His chest tightened. His skin burned.
He pressed closer, almost desperately, touch-starved in ways he had never realized until now.
