… Don’t touch it anymore. (2)
No more official websites were popping up this time. All that appeared were forum posts.
But the answer to that question was still a mystery.
It seemed that no one understood this man or that he concealed himself too well, never revealing any of his preferences to the outside world.
But then, Shi An suddenly noticed one of the not-so-obvious posts.
“I don’t quite know what Chief Mu hates, but as a low-level member of the Bureau, I can conscientiously say that Chief Mu does not like physical contact.”
“I’ve also heard of this before. Is it true?”
“Could this be why Chief Mu always wears gloves? I thought it was because he was wounded…”
“It’s not a wound, you’ve overthought. Who could injure him? My friend in the Bureau said Chief Mu did this because he was oversensitive to touch, so he didn’t like to make physical contact with others.”
After reading the post, Shi An fell into deep thought.
Mu Heng did look like he wore gloves all the time…
But to hate physical contact?
It didn’t seem like it. At least he hadn’t noticed it the few times they had touched before.
Or could it just be that the other party was hiding his emotions too well?
Considering how normally Mu Heng was emotionless, Shi An thought it wasn’t impossible.
At this moment, Mu Heng walked out from the training ground.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Shi An nodded absentmindedly and the two walked forward side by side.
He thought about the post he had just seen and subconsciously lowered his head, his eyes falling on the other man’s palm hanging at his side.
The man’s palms were broad, his fingers long and slender, but every inch of skin was tightly wrapped in pitch-black combat gloves, looking stern and ascetic.
Shi An suddenly spoke, “By the way, can you take off your gloves?”
Mu Heng was stunned and stopped his pace, deeply glancing at the young man in front of him.
He didn’t answer, nor did he ask why, but he tugged at the fingertips of his gloves with his other hand and unhurriedly pulled the combat gloves away from his hands.
Mu Heng extended his hand over.
Shi An thought for a moment and raised his hand to take hold of the other man’s fingers.
Unlike his cold body temperature, the other man’s fingers were hot and burning. Although he had been prepared for it, Shi An was still slightly burned.
Shi An tugged the other man’s hand over and examined it.
The outline of Mu Heng’s knuckles was distinct and sharp, his fingers were long and slender, and green veins were faintly visible on the back of his pale hand.
Well, it’s not unpretty.
Shi An was a little disappointed.
There were no hard scales or sharp talons, not even the scars he had been somewhat expecting.
Still, it looked that much better than his own hands…
Shi An subconsciously spread out his own palm.
It was white, thin, and slender.
It always felt like it would break at the first touch, not half as impressive as a dragon’s.
Shi An was a little frustrated.
Mu Heng’s eyes dropped, his gaze falling on the young man before him.
The back of his neck was faintly visible at this angle, the soft flesh wrapped around the slightly convex vertebrae, the curves fragile and graceful, a few strands of dark hair stuck to the sweat-stained skin, causing one to feel the urge to imprint one's teeth on it and grind it with the tip of one’s teeth.
At that moment, there was a cool touch on his palm.
The other man seemed to be tentatively touching his palm, rubbing it delicately, the cold fingertips lightly touching the warm skin, bringing an odd slight tickle.
But more than that, it was hot.
Mu Heng’s eyes deepened and the knot in his throat rolled up and down involuntarily.
The hand that had been at his mercy a moment ago suddenly flipped, its strong knuckles gripping Shi An’s wrist backwards, its hot fingers burning into his wrist-bone skin.
The man’s voice came from overhead, seemingly suppressing some sort of emotion, his voice tense and husky. “… Don’t touch it anymore.”
Oh!
Shi An was happy.
It seemed the rumors were correct that Mu Heng didn’t like having physical contact with others!
Shi An was a bit gloating.
When I told you not to touch my tail, you didn’t listen, and now you’re getting your retribution!
Mu Heng let go of Shi An’s hand, looking away, his voice still a bit raspy.
“Let’s go. The car is just in front.”
After saying that, he turned around and walked straight toward the parking spot in front of him.
Mu Heng was tall and had long legs, pulling the distance between them in just a few seconds.
Shi An watched the other party’s bolting back, slightly curling his lips and revealing a winning smile.
Unexpectedly, in the end, it was Black Smoke’s advice that worked.
At this rate of progress, it should be a matter of time before the other party hates him.
By then, even if he didn’t take the initiative to say so, Mu Heng would still subconsciously stay away from him.
Plan made!
In the distance, Mu Heng, whose back was turned to Shi An, had his thin lips pursed, his dark eyes were frighteningly dark, and the heavy, devouring lust was finally no longer suppressed and concealed, tumbling wildly under his eyes.
Almost.
He almost couldn’t hold back.
It was a touch without any emotion, but his self-control seemed to collapse at the first touch.
But… Mu Heng knew well that it wasn’t time yet.
He could not frighten people.
He slowly took a deep breath and closed his eyes forcefully.
A few seconds later, Mu Heng opened his eyes and the usual calmness returned under his eyes.
He hesitated for a moment and lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on his splayed palms.
Somehow, at that moment, he seemed to pick up a piece of the broken fragment from his previous dream again.
It seemed… to be in that dream.
He had also touched something… cold and smooth, seemingly hard, but soft and tender.
What could it be?
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