Hot flashes

As night deepened, the candlelight inside the main tent flickered, casting the shadows of two people onto the tent wall, overlapping and swaying.

Zhou Heng, dressed in a brand-new plain-colored undergarment, lay stiffly on the outside of the main bed, his body pressed against the edge of the bed, wishing he could turn himself into a piece of paper.

Since recovering from his injury, he had tried various methods—pretending to snore, claiming that he was a bad sleeper and would kick people, and even subtly suggesting that he could sleep on the low couch in the outer room—all of which were dismissed by Xiao Jue with excuses such as "it doesn't matter," "I sleep soundly," and "there is not enough charcoal in the outer room."

Thus, "sharing a bed" became a regular occurrence every night.

For the first few days, Xiao Jue was relatively "well-behaved," only his arm would wrap around him, forcing him to fall asleep against that furnace-like chest.

After several nights of stiffness, Zhou Heng realized that apart from being held a bit too tightly and having a strange but not unpleasant smell on the tip of his nose, it seemed... he hadn't lost a piece of flesh?

Moreover, Xiao Jue was genuinely warm. In the frigid spring nights of the northern frontier, having such a human heater made my sleep quality strangely improve.

Okay, go ahead and hug me. Consider it an extra premium constant-temperature pillow.

However, he soon discovered that Xiao Jue's "pillow" seemed to have too many functions.

First, his hands started to wander.

The hand that was around his waist initially just rested loosely, but later began to caress the fabric of his clothes on his side, with the fingertips occasionally brushing against his sensitive skin through the thin undergarment.

Zhou Heng shivered from the tickling sensation and tried to pull away, but the hand followed, becoming even more aggressive.

Then came the legs. From some unknown night, Xiao Jue's leg squeezed in, clamping his cold calf, warming it with its own warm and powerful leg muscles.

This was quite comfortable; Zhou Heng, half-asleep and half-awake, even unconsciously rubbed against the heat source.

But as he rubbed against it, he felt something was wrong—it seemed like there was something there.

Zhou Heng instantly snapped out of his daze, too frightened to move. But Xiao Jue seemed oblivious, simply pulling him closer, nuzzling his head with his chin, his breathing even and deep.

Zhou Heng: "..." Never mind.

Later, even the clothes started to suffer.

Xiao Jue seemed to be very keen on checking whether the ties of his inner garment were sturdy. As he slept, his fingers would reach down to his collar and slowly, one button at a time, unbutton his inner garment.

When Zhou Heng was awakened by the chill that rushed into his chest, he was often already half-clothed, with most of his chest exposed.

Protests are useless.

Every time he tried to grab the mischievous hand or pull his clothes back, Xiao Jue would snort in dissatisfaction, tighten his arms, lock him firmly in place, and give him a light bite on the nape of his neck or collarbone, leaving a mark, until he gave up struggling and resigned himself to his fate.

Night after night, Zhou Heng felt like he was getting worn out from all the handling.

From the tips of his ears to his ankles, almost every inch of his skin had been touched by Xiao Jue's hands or lips. Except... for the last step.

Xiao Jue seemed exceptionally patient, like a beast enjoying the hunting process. He wasn't in a hurry to swallow his prey whole, but instead used his claws to slowly paw and lick it, watching the prey tremble, stiffen, and gradually become numb under his claws.

At this moment, Zhou Heng was in a state of "numbness". He closed his eyes and felt Xiao Jue's warm palms moving across his back, sliding from his shoulder blades all the way down to his tailbone.

The technique... was almost like kneading a perfect dough, with just the right amount of pressure, even possessing a strange, drowsy rhythm. The skin felt slightly warm where it had been kneaded, yet the muscles relaxed uncontrollably.

"Alright, keep massaging it. Anyway, my back has a lot of surface area, I should be able to sleep after a while." Zhou Heng thought drowsily, and even hummed softly in comfort because of the massage-like technique.

As if in response to his groan, Xiao Jue stopped and then changed direction.

The hand traced his spine, slid down his lower back, and landed...

Zhou Heng's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment, but he quickly relaxed. This wasn't the first time... This wasn't the first time.

Xiao Jue seems to have a special fondness for that; it's almost become muscle memory for him.

At first, he was filled with shame and indignation, but now... well, he'll just consider it a free massage, even though the masseur is a bit of a scoundrel.

Zhou Heng didn't even blink, silently commenting in his mind: Hmm, the technique seems a bit lighter tonight than yesterday, the left side was massaged for longer than the right... Almost done, right? Time to sleep...

Just as his consciousness was drifting away and he was about to fall asleep, the hand that had been lingering on him suddenly made a new move.

Instead of stopping or moving away obediently after kneading for a while as usual, it...

Zhou Heng jolted awake, his drowsiness instantly vanishing!

"!!!"

An alarm bell rang in Zhou Heng's mind, like a rusty spring suddenly taut, or a cat whose tail had been stepped on. His hair stood on end, and he almost jumped off the bed!

"What are you doing?!" he cried out, his voice trembling with shock, anger, and disbelief.

At the same time, he used all his strength to suddenly pull his right arm, which was wrapped around Xiao Jue's arm, out of his arms. The arm was still a little numb from being held down for so long, and he pulled it out quickly and forcefully, his elbow hitting Xiao Jue's firm abdomen with a "thud".

Xiao Jue seemed to grunt, loosening his grip on his arm.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zhou Heng scrambled out of Xiao Jue's arms, jumped barefoot onto the cold carpet, and hurriedly gathered up his torn and tattered undergarment. His face was flushed red, his chest heaving violently, and he stared at the person on the bed, still in shock.

The candlelight inside the tent was dim. Xiao Jue propped himself up, his dark hair disheveled and draped over his shoulders. The collar of his inner robe was open, revealing his muscular chest.

His face was expressionless, except for his eyes, which appeared particularly deep in the dim light, as he quietly watched Zhou Heng, who stood on the ground like a frightened little animal with its fur standing on end.

"Don't make a fuss." Xiao Jue's voice was slightly hoarse, calm and unwavering. "It's just a look."