Obsessed with a High-Ranking Esper (BL)-Chapter 239: NSFW 3

The look on Jian Ci’s face, the raw vulnerability, the shyness that was so utterly foreign on his usually composed features, made Yu Xi’s playful smile freeze for a fraction of a second.

His expression remained gentle, but his eyes sharpened, the alcohol-induced haze receding just enough to reveal focused, dark attention. ’He looks so cute,’ Yu Xi thought, the observation immediate and visceral.

"What is it?" The hairpin clinked softly as Yu Xi placed it in a small porcelain bowl on the dresser.

Jian Ci swallowed. The words felt like gravel in his throat. "Umm... I think... I think I am really impotent."

Yu Xi’s brows arched, a flicker of irritation crossing his sharp features. He hated Alarna for making up that fucking rumour. Now it was getting into Jian Ci’s head. "Forget those rumours. People talk shit. It means nothing."

"That’s not it," Jian Ci insisted, his voice tightening. He shuffled, sitting even more upright, as if the confession required perfect posture. "I tried watching porn. But nothing. It’s like it’s broken. Like the wiring’s just... fucked."

Yu Xi froze for a second. He turned his head, his dark eyes wide. "You watched porn."

"Yeah," Jian Ci said, the admission burning. "I had to test it out somehow. I had to know."

"And?" Yu Xi’s voice was flat.

"And nothing. I feel nothing. I have no... fucking... interest. It’s just... dead." Jian Ci’s knuckles were white where they gripped the sheet. "I stared at the screen and all I felt was cold."

Yu Xi could see it then, the genuine worry carved into the lines of Jian Ci’s face. This wasn’t vanity. This was a deep, chilling dread but Yu Xi knew. He knew with a certainty that heated his own blood. He looked away, focusing on the bowl. "You are not impotent."

"Why are all of you saying that?" Jian Ci’s frustration boiled over. "Even Wei-ge and Rui-ge don’t believe me! They just laughed and pat my shoulder!"

Yu Xi stared at the earring and hairpin in the bowl. "Trust me," he said, his voice dropping, low and certain. "You are far from it."

Jian Ci opened his mouth to argue, to list more evidence of his broken dick, but the words died. Yu Xi’s hands went to the hem of his fitted white shirt.

In one smooth, practiced motion, he pulled it up and over his head, tossing it onto the nearby chair. His back was revealed. It was toned, lean muscle shifting under smooth skin, marked here and there by the faint, silver lines of old scars. Jian Ci had seen it countless times so he didn’t pay much attention, at least not yet.

Yu Xi reached for his belt, the leather sighing as he unbuckled it. "When we go back, Jian Wei can test you. We will figure it out if you are that worried."

His voice was calm, logical, a contrast to the heat beginning to prickle under Jian Ci’s skin for reasons he couldn’t name.

Jian Ci wasn’t listening to the words. His gaze was locked, utterly arrested, on the bend of Yu Xi’s body as he leaned down to push his cream trousers down his legs. The fabric slid over the firm curve of his ass, the muscles clenching briefly as he stepped out of them.

The black cotton of his briefs hugged the shape, leaving nothing to imagination. The jut of his hip bones, the deep dip of his spine, the full, peachy swell of each cheek. Jian Ci stared. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath. He didn’t realise his mouth had gone dry.

Yu Xi tossed the trousers onto the chair with the shirt. "Did you hear me?" He turned around.

Jian Ci’s eyes snapped away, fixing on the window. "Yeah. I will get tested." His voice came out rough, strangled.

Yu Xi gave a single nod. His thumbs hooked into the elastic waistband of his briefs. He gave a slow, testing pull, the band stretching, dipping an inch lower.

A sliver of skin, the very beginning of the crease where his thigh met his torso showed. Jian Ci caught it in the very edge of his vision, a flash of intimacy that seared itself onto his brain.

Then Yu Xi stopped. He changed his mind, letting the elastic snap back against his skin with a soft thwack. "I am going to take a shower," he announced, turning toward the bathroom.

"Okay," Jian Ci managed. The word was a hoarse scrape.

The bathroom door clicked shut. A second later, the shower hissed to life.

Alone, the room seemed to shrink. The sound of the water was a white-noise roar in Jian Ci’s ears.

There was tightness. An unmistakable throbbing tightness. His heart slammed against his ribs. ’It has to be from the porn not Yu Xi. It has to be a delayed reaction from all that fucking porn,’ he tried to tell himself.

He yanked the covers up, pulling them over his lap to see the absurd evidence. It pressed insistently against the fabric, a hard, unmistakable ridge.

He was hard. Not just a little stiff. Hard. A thick, aching length tenting the soft cotton, the head straining against the seam. He could see the outline, the veined shape of it. His cock was alive, pulsing with a slow, deep beat he could feel in his fucking teeth.

’What the hell?!’ His mind raced, a chaotic scramble. It had to be the porn. A backlog of visual stimuli finally processing. It had to be the stress releasing. It had to be anything, anything other than...

His eyes drifted from his own aching erection to the chair. To Yu Xi’s discarded white shirt, the sleeves still curled from where they had been pulled off. To the cream trousers pooled on the floor.

The sight of Yu Xi undressing had been a punch to his gut. The smooth line of Yu Xi’s spine, the flex of his shoulders, the casual drop of fabric that left him standing in just his low-slung pants.

Jian Ci rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, trying to will the hard-on away. It didn’t work. It throbbed, a hot, needy pulse that made the hotel sheets feel like sandpaper.

Jian Ci squeezed his eyes shut, counting backwards from a hundred. He got to seventy-four before Yu Xi’s voice cut through the steam.

"Gege?"

It was muffled, but there. Jian Ci’s heart did a stupid, hopeful leap. "Yeah?"

The water kept running. Yu Xi said something else, the words lost in the spray.

"Shit." Jian Ci sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The movement made his erection, tenting the thin cotton of his sleep pants, bounce against his stomach. He looked down. "Fuck," he swore under his breath, the word a hissed, frustrated truth. It was a fucking monument. It was so obvious and impossible to hide.

He grabbed the hotel’s white robe from the foot of the bed, yanking it on and tying the belt in a tight, clumsy knot. The fabric was thin, but it was something. He padded to the bathroom door, the plush carpet muffling his steps. The bathroom lights were dim, casting everything in soft, forgiving shadows. It didn’t help. His dick still felt like it was broadcasting its own fucking signal.