Lu Zhuonian was a man of his word—completely unlike Chen Zemian, who could never stick to anything he promised.
So when Chen Zemian did as he was told and turned over, Lu Zhuonian gave him exactly what he wanted.
Of course, the cost of that obedience was a pair of bright red thighs.
Chen Zemian might’ve been thin, but the tops of his thighs still had a bit of flesh—just enough that even pressed together, they couldn’t quite hold firm.
So he had to use his hands.
He cupped the base of his thighs with his palms, forming a small, half-sealed space.
This time, everything felt different for Chen Zemian—more intense, more vivid, incomparable to the first two times.
The first time had been done in secret while Lu Zhuonian was unconscious—an act of quiet, trembling nerves under the guise of treatment. He hadn’t let his mind go anywhere inappropriate; he’d been too anxious to feel anything else.
The second time, Lu Zhuonian had made a new request, which Chen Zemian had flatly refused—only to be ambushed moments later. And after that mind-numbing, line-erasing pleasure, he’d reluctantly “treated” him again.
But this time—this time there was no fear, no hesitation, no before or after. They moved in perfect sync.
When Lu Zhuonian was gasping behind him, Chen Zemian was gasping even harder.
In that blur of chaos and inversion, both of them lost any remaining thread of clarity.
They were too focused on seizing the moment to remember such minor things as grabbing tissues in time.
The air thickened with the scent of heat and sweat, laced with the faint undertone of cedarwood.
All of Lu Zhuonian’s clothes were scented with cedar essential oil, soaked into every thread. It clung to him like a second skin, making even his sweat smell expensive.
Maybe it was that scent—or maybe it was just him—but somehow, to Chen Zemian, Lu Zhuonian never felt dirty. And that made accepting all of this much easier.
When it was over, the two of them, both spent and satisfied, used the blanket to cover the sheets and squeezed into the last bit of clean space to rest.
Chen Zemian felt like his soul had ascended. Utterly, gloriously wrecked.
Lu Zhuonian, on the other hand, had already begun his usual spiral into self-recrimination.
He thought himself disgraceful—pulling Chen Zemian into this with pleasure, with want, exploiting his weakness just to force him to yield.
It wasn’t love. It’s manipulation. It was using arousal and gratification to make Chen Zemian submit—spiritually submit.
The lengths he was willing to go to for this man… it was more shameless than anything he’d ever imagined. Despicable, even.
But he couldn’t help it.
Even now, after achieving this momentary satisfaction, the restlessness in his chest only grew worse.
He wanted more.
All his morals, his ideals, his principles—they were just ornate shells. Outward appearances. No one could see the filth, the hunger, that festered underneath.
Lu Zhuonian stared at Chen Zemian with a kind of quiet grief, thinking: To be liked by someone like me… really might be the unluckiest thing that’s ever happened to you.
Chen Zemian, still dazed from pleasure, turned his head—only to catch sight of that familiar look again in Lu Zhuonian’s eyes: mournful, cold, self-loathing, as if he were already halfway to dying.
“…”
Oh come on, Chen Zemian thought. You were just going at it like a beast—and now you want to die again?
He licked his dry lips, his spine tingling with aftershocks—already starting to feel… tempted.
He couldn’t help but wonder—was sex addiction contagious?
Because before this, he’d honestly been pretty ascetic. When work got busy, he’d be too exhausted to even think about stuff like this. He could go for long stretches without desire, without even noticing it.
But now? After just two rounds of “mutual assistance” with Lu Zhuonian, all it took was eye contact for his whole body to overheat.
It had to be contagious.
But god—it felt so good.
Lu Zhuonian really was the walking embodiment of a pleasure-fueled male lead. Everything he did, every skill he possessed, maxed out. Not just his mouth—his hands were insane, too.
How is this even possible?
It’s nothing like doing it yourself…
Should they go another round? The night was still young, after all.
Chen Zemian wrestled with himself for a full thirty seconds, brain clouded with desire, before jolting back to reality—and mentally cursing himself out.
You absolute scumbag.
Your friend just had a full-blown episode. His body’s barely calmed down, and now his emotions are crashing—and there you are, ready to fool around again?
You are such a bastard.
But what made sex addiction truly tormenting wasn’t just the physical symptoms. It was the emotional aftermath.
That was why psychological care and comfort were just as crucial as physical relief.
Maybe it’s even more important than anything else.
Chen Zemian gathered himself and gave Lu Zhuonian a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
Lu Zhuonian’s lashes fluttered slightly. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.” Chen Zemian scoffed. “You’ve got that ‘I want to die’ look on your face again. Don’t tell me you’re beating yourself up—again.”
Lu Zhuonian was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft “Mm.”
“How exactly do you do it, huh? The self-blame thing—can you walk me through it?” Chen Zemian was like an energetic cat with boundless curiosity, quickly losing track of any prior conversation. He poked at Lu Zhuonian’s head with genuine interest. “You’re always saying you can’t sleep, you’re always brooding and criticizing yourself, your moods are a mess—but how come you’re not balding?”
Lu Zhuonian: “…”
“I haven’t had insomnia lately,” he admitted, lips pressing into a thin line. “After you helped me, I’ve been sleeping fine for a few days now.”
“Then what are you so unhappy about?” Chen Zemian frowned.
Lu Zhuonian’s lashes trembled again. In a voice so low it was barely a whisper, he said, “Because I’m taking advantage of you.”
Chen Zemian, who was still basking in the afterglow, froze.
He stared at Lu Zhuonian in disbelief, the sentence so out of the blue it felt like someone had dropped a brick on his head.
Lu Zhuonian… is taking advantage of me?
Since when?
How come I didn’t notice?
I thought I was the one getting all the benefits here!
Unbelievable.
Lu Zhuonian knew Chen Zemian was staring at him—but he didn’t look back.
He was afraid of seeing disgust on his face.
But Chen Zemian, seeing his lack of response, simply leaned forward and brought his face right up to Lu Zhuonian’s.
Out of the darkness, a fair, strikingly handsome face appeared—flushed, bright-eyed, and far too close.
Lu Zhuonian’s breath hitched.
Chen Zemian had always had a stunning face. His bone structure was flawless, and his skin-deep features even more so—almost too beautiful to be real.
But now, up close, he looked… different from before.
Perhaps it was age, sharpening the angles of his youthful features. Or maybe it was the transformation of temperament—that subtle shift in how a person’s spirit shaped their face.
He didn’t look like he used to.
His brows had become sharper, his black eyes still crystal clear, but no longer like gentle autumn waters. Now they resembled a deep, cold pool—still, but unfathomable. Dangerous.
His jawline had grown more defined. Even when he wasn’t smiling, the corners of his lips were faintly upturned, giving him a confidence bordering on cockiness—like someone who owned the world and knew it.
Maybe it was all the exercise and weight training, but he also seemed taller than before. His shoulders had broadened, his waist trim and tight, legs long and lean. His skin was so pale it practically glowed, and his muscles were evenly toned, his lines clean and precise—built for strength, but sculpted like art.
He was still slender, but no longer frail or delicate. Instead, he resembled a taut bow—relaxed on the outside, tightly coiled within. Tall and poised, there was something unrestrained and striking about him, like a presence that refused to be ignored.
Lu Zhuonian had seen countless beautiful faces in his life.
Delicate ones, seductive ones, graceful, glamorous, elegant, charming—every kind of beauty imaginable.
He never thought of himself as shallow, and had never been easily swayed by a pretty face.
Yet now, his mind faltered. Something inside him jolted—subtle but jarring—as if some strange, inexplicable switch had been thrown.
Chen Zemian had always been in front of him. Every day.
But at that moment, at that very second, Lu Zhuonian felt like he was truly seeing Chen Zemian’s face for the first time.
So this is what he looks like.
He was… really, undeniably beautiful.
Chen Zemian noticed him staring and tilted his head in confusion. “What are you spacing out about now?”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze flickered for a moment, but he quickly steadied it. He said firmly, “What I did to you before wasn’t right. I won’t do that again.”
Without thinking, Chen Zemian blurted out, “Don’t.”
Lu Zhuonian paused. “…What?”
He turned slightly, locking eyes with Chen Zemian for a few seconds.
Chen Zemian gave a soft, awkward cough. “I just mean… if it’s for treatment, what’s right or wrong about it? And all that stuff about ‘bullying’ me—where did that even come from?”
“I was trying to control you, Chen Zemian,” Lu Zhuonian said quietly. His eyes were dark, and his voice carried a cold, impersonal edge. “You’d be safer staying away from me.”
“I never felt like you were controlling me,” Chen Zemian replied, frowning slightly in confusion. “Besides, like I said—if I really couldn’t take it, I could’ve broken free.”
At that, Lu Zhuonian’s eyes trembled—just slightly, but enough.
If I really couldn’t take it, I could’ve broken free.
But he hadn’t.
The implication was obvious.
Chen Zemian hadn’t wanted to resist.
Everything Lu Zhuonian had done to him—he had accepted. Maybe even welcomed it, deep down.
When Lu pinned his wrists down, the rush of heat and helpless excitement had surged like a wave. That strange tension—the kind that comes from being denied—only made the eventual release feel rarer, more precious.
And when it reached its peak, when all that pressure could no longer be contained, it didn’t burst. It crashed—like an avalanche breaking loose from a mountainside, thunderous and overwhelming.
It was, in a word, exhilarating.
Chen Zemian wasn’t known for his self-control. He’d never experienced that kind of drawn-out, edge-of-the-blade pleasure before.
And having someone else completely control the rhythm—someone powerful, unrelenting, and certain—just once in a while?
The experience was… unforgettable.
Even now, the aftertaste lingered—deep and long, nothing like the dull, perfunctory encounters he was used to.
Of course, Chen Zemian wasn’t about to go into detail about any of that. He offered only a vague summation of his stance.
With feigned nonchalance, he said, “Letting everything that built up pour out in one burst… honestly? Felt kind of good.”
Lu Zhuonian looked at him, something dark and unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“What’re you staring at?” Chen Zemian grew flustered under his gaze, immediately snapping, “Haven’t you ever heard of delayed release for greater impact?”
Lu Zhuonian turned his head away, voice laced with faint realization. “So that’s what that phrase means. Duly noted.”
Chen Zemian rubbed his nose and awkwardly changed the subject. “What happened to you today anyway? Weren’t you out drinking with Ye Shao? Why another flare-up?”
Lu Zhuonian was silent for a moment. “Don’t mention those two things in the same breath. It sounds… weird.”
Chen Zemian shrugged, unconcerned. “So your mood’s bad… is it because of the whole studying abroad thing?”
Lu Zhuonian gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment.
Just as Chen Zemian was about to say something else, Lu Zhuonian suddenly reached out and covered his mouth.
“No need to talk me into it again,” he said flatly.
Chen Zemian knew Lu Zhuonian didn’t want to hear it—but going to Harvard wasn’t just any plot point in the original novel. It was pivotal.
At Harvard, Lu Zhuonian would meet key figures, and later, when expanding his business empire, many of his overseas ventures would trace back to those connections.
Chen Zemian didn’t think Lu Zhuonian had to follow that same path to success. He just worried that Lu’s deviation from the original story… might be because of him.
Worse still, since the “treatment” began, Lu Zhuonian’s episodes seemed to be happening more often, not less.
In just two months, there had already been three flare-ups. That frequency didn’t seem right no matter how he looked at it.
Chen Zemian pushed Lu Zhuonian’s hand away. “I was going to ask—why are your episodes happening so frequently lately?”
“I haven’t been taking the meds anymore,” Lu Zhuonian replied calmly. “Before, it only counted as an episode if paroxetine couldn’t suppress it. But now? These milder ones can be handled with a single pill.”
Chen Zemian nodded slowly, visibly relieved. “Oh, I see. I thought maybe I’d made things worse instead of better.”
“You haven’t,” Lu Zhuonian said.
“Then do you feel like there’s been any improvement?” Chen Zemian asked.
Lu Zhuonian’s dark eyes dimmed. He lowered his gaze, thinking for a moment. Then he gave a slow smile.
“There’s been progress,” he said. “But what I want… is more.”
At those words, Chen Zemian’s heart skipped a beat.
He remembered what the doctor had said—behavioral cravings in sex addiction often escalated over time.
And considering what had already happened this time…
What would it take next time?
Chen Zemian didn’t even dare to imagine.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
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