Chapter 71: Where’s My Leopard?

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

“Lu Yao, let go first.” Zhou Yunchen shifted the fingers caught between Lu Yao’s lips, brushing against the tip of his tongue. Lu Yao wrinkled his nose and, though reluctant, ended his feral behavior. He opened his mouth and released Zhou Yunchen’s hand. The light above made the saliva look like a pulled thread.

In the next instant, Lu Yao witnessed what it truly meant to face a beast. Compared to that, he himself had been no more than a playful kitten pretending to be fierce. In a flash, Zhou Yunchen pressed down on Lu Yao’s shoulder, flipped him over, and shoved him to the ground. Their positions reversed in an instant. A dark figure radiating scorching heat bore down on Lu Yao, blocking the wavering daylight above.

Burning breath sprayed across Lu Yao’s nose and cheeks. His lips were sealed before he could utter a sound, leaving only helpless whimpers to escape. Zhou Yunchen crashed against his mouth with no method, no restraint—like the assault of a wild beast, desperate to devour the fevered lips and tongue flushed with blood beneath him.

Startled, Lu Yao instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. Heat engulfed him, and a moment later his back lifted from the ground. Alarm bells rang in his mind, his breath growing short and panicked. He tried to brace against the floor, but Zhou Yunchen, half-kneeling and bent over him, held him too tightly. A broad hand supported his back, leaving his waist suspended in midair. His arms were pinned in front, useless for escape. All he could do was clutch Zhou Yunchen’s collar with desperate strength, relying on that one anchor in the chaos.

Never had Lu Yao been so close to another person. Never had he surrendered himself so completely. All the fleeting marks Zhou Yunchen had left on him in the past could not compare to the shudder that this kiss sent through his very soul. He did not know what to do, so he simply let go and accepted it.

Even his throat seemed to open. Zhou Yunchen’s sharp nose pressed against his cheek, leaving behind a flush of red. The blood that had dripped from Lu Yao’s lips mingled with spit and slid down the corner of his lips. He could not stop it. A glistening wet trail streaked down his face.

Neither of them had experience. It was all chaos and numbness. Lu Yao could hardly breathe. Tears, uncontrollable and purely physical, spilled under the rough attack. Suddenly, perhaps because of a drop of fluid that slipped down the wrong way, Lu Yao choked. He coughed, unable to stop himself.

Like waking from a dream, Zhou Yunchen broke away, teeth unclenching. He opened his eyes to see Lu Yao’s face flushed red, streaked with tears and spit, a complete mess. The ferocious beast from a moment ago looked instantly flustered. “Lu Yao, Lu Yao—”

Still coughing, Lu Yao could not speak. He lifted one hand and covered Zhou Yunchen’s mouth to silence him. With the other, he hooked around his neck, struggling to sit upright from his half-suspended state.

Zhou Yunchen reached to wipe away his tears, but Lu Yao pushed his hand aside and wrapped his arms around his back instead, pressing his chin against his shoulder as he steadied his breathing. “You won’t hold me?” Lu Yao’s voice was hoarse, almost out of control. “Hold me.”

Zhou Yunchen thawed from his rigid hesitation and, trembling, drew Lu Yao into his arms. His palms pressed against the sharp lines of Lu Yao’s back, and with the faintest shift, he could hold the omega entirely within his embrace.

The two of them breathed in unison. They could not see each other’s faces, but they heard the pounding of each other’s hearts. Words would have been meaningless. If love at first sight had not bound them, they would not have waited twenty years for an answer.

Actions spoke with more clarity and more heat. There was no longer any need for restraint or sorrow. Love flooded them, relentless and overwhelming, whether in their frenzied kiss or their quiet embrace.

Zhou Yunchen shut his eyes, caressing Lu Yao’s back, pressing his face into his long black hair, and breathing in the warmth and fragrance tangled in his strands. Time slipped by with the tilting shadows. They remained in their still embrace until Elaine’s knock sounded at the door.

“Lu Yao, General Zhou, is everything all right?” For some reason, they had cut off the receiver earlier. Elaine had no idea what had happened inside. Lu Yao loosened his hold just enough to answer through the door. “It’s fine. We’ll be out soon.”

Elaine’s heels clicked away down the hall. Zhou Yunchen turned back to Lu Yao. The tear stains on his face had dried, the blush faded with calm, leaving only faint red marks from their embrace. Zhou Yunchen brushed his fingertips over the heated imprint. Lu Yao’s face, always as cold and pale as frost, seemed now easily marked.

With a fingernail, Zhou Yunchen scraped gently along his cheekbone. Sure enough, a faint red streak appeared. The unmelting ice of years past had been only because no one had ever gotten close enough to leave a mark.

Lu Yao did not move, letting Zhou Yunchen poke and prod at his face. Sometimes his eyes flicked to follow the movements, as if amused. After reddening Lu Yao’s skin with a few more squeezes, Zhou Yunchen reluctantly let go. He dampened a tissue and carefully wiped away the dried stains of water and blood. Then he pulled Lu Yao up, and together they walked out of the room.

Elaine gave them a look full of nuance, then peered inside through the open door. The carpet was a mess, but the safety supplies remained untouched.

Once they had changed back into their clothes, Elaine stopped them. “I checked the readings. The results of this training were very good. I think next time we can begin scent-adaptation training. Will that be all right?”

“Fine.” Lu Yao nodded. They headed together toward the medical bay’s parking lot. Inside, aside from Elaine’s private craft, only their own two flyers waited.

“We should—”

“Take yours first,” Lu Yao cut in, halting Zhou Yunchen’s hesitation. He opened the craft, and Lu Yao slid into the passenger seat. Zhou Yunchen fastened the safety harness and activated the navigation system, about to ask where they were going.

“Zhou Yunchen.” Lu Yao suddenly spoke his name.

“What?”

In a sudden motion, Lu Yao leaned in once more, their lips pressing together. Lu Yao’s lips brushed against Zhou Yunchen’s, and just as Zhou Yunchen thought he meant to end the day’s chaos with a fleeting kiss, Lu Yao leaned in again.

But almost immediately, he pulled back. He studied Zhou Yunchen’s face, glanced at the sharp lines of his lips, then tried again from another angle.

He repeated the process several times. Each time he pressed their mouths together, only to retreat and think for a moment before trying a different angle or pressure. Before long, their lips had grown swollen from the repeated contact, like some strange docking test between spacecrafts. Zhou Yunchen gradually relaxed, easing from his initial tension—until Lu Yao gave him a surprise.

“Lu—” Zhou Yunchen barely opened his mouth to call his name when Lu Yao’s lips closed in again. This time there was no fleeting touch. The spacecraft seemed to find its perfect angle, the docking finally successful.

Carefully, he experimented. Each touch and entanglement sent tingles racing straight to his head, leaving his body weak and pliant. Unable to hold himself upright, Lu Yao leaned forward, pressing Zhou Yunchen into the pilot’s seat while bracing against his shoulder for support. Yet even through his haze, Lu Yao forced his half-lidded eyes open, staring intently into Zhou Yunchen’s.

It was as if he were conducting a kiss experiment—serious and earnest, determined to observe his subject despite the dizziness. But he himself was also part of the experiment, incapable of standing apart.

When those cold, inorganic eyes flickered with irrepressible desire, nothing could have excited Zhou Yunchen more. He gripped Lu Yao’s waist, tugging him closer.

“Mm—” Lu Yao let out a muffled sound at the sharp pinch. He clutched blindly at Zhou Yunchen’s uniform collar and adjusted his angle again.

By the time their mouths finally parted, his lower back throbbed from the awkward strain. Kneeling sideways in the co-pilot’s seat was hardly a position suited to healthy posture. The Chief Engineer, it seemed, had forgotten to think. Most couples would never kiss continuously for a quarter of an hour.

Once satisfied with his “experimental results,” Lu Yao released Zhou Yunchen’s hand and steadied his breath. “I’m leaving.” He gave a small nod, climbed out of the craft, and strode toward his own flyer.

Meanwhile, General Zhou sat strapped into the pilot’s seat, uniform disheveled, a response stirring within him that he barely noticed. His mind was too blank, too stunned, as he watched Lu Yao abandon him without hesitation—sliding smoothly into his flyer, starting the engines, and vanishing like the wind.

Lu Yao thought bitterly: even after feeding Torque, he would still reward the poor kitten with treats and pats, comforting it after the struggle. Why, when it came to people, did things have to be different?

When Lu Yao returned home, the AI informed him that the snow leopard had gone to play in the mountains and was not inside the villa. So he called for Torque instead. The lovely white kitten, taking advantage of the leopard’s absence, mewed sweetly at him. Lu Yao could not resist, slipping it a few extra treats.

Torque rolled around his feet as he opened a light screen to start a new document. But after a moment’s thought, he closed it again and asked the robot for a paper notebook. He wrote the date on the first page, then began recording today’s kissing session—duration, angles, pressure, every detail.

Lu Yao was hardly ignorant. His Federation citizen education had included courses in physiological experience, even the most discussed topics between alphas and omegas. Technique was critical in intimacy. Progress required practice, yet practice alone was not enough. Reflection and refinement were essential.

Though his specialization was theoretical mecha design, Lu Yao was adept at practical skills too—welding, cutting, machining. He already had a system for honing technique. After the final period, he reviewed his notes on the kiss experiment, then shut the notebook with satisfaction.

He had considered setting up a practice plan according to the Ebbinghaus curve, but some things could not be forced. His practice partner was often busy anyway. By then, the snow leopard bounded back from the mountains, panting, his long fur tangled with leaves. Lu Yao picked out the debris before letting him clean himself.

That night, the leopard was unusually clingy. Long before lights-out, he hopped onto the bed, curling his tail as he waited for Lu Yao to join him.

Well enough. The weather was cooling, and a warm leopard made for a fine sleeping companion. Lu Yao gazed into his round gray eyes, scratched beneath his chin, and tugged him down onto the mattress. His arm curved over the leopard’s belly, the two of them curled together like a pair of nested spoons.

And Lu Yao wondered—did hugging require practice, too? He rolled the leopard this way and that, trying different angles and pressures.

“Awwooo?” The leopard blinked, raising his paws and tail in confusion, but remained obedient—like an oversized plush toy beneath Lu Yao’s touch.

Only late into the night did Lu Yao finally fall asleep from exhaustion. But sometime past midnight, he stirred awake. Reaching out automatically, his arm did not find soft fur. Instead, he touched something smooth and warm.

Groggy, he opened his eyes. In the darkness, on the pillow beside him, a familiar face appeared. The snow leopard was gone. In his place lay… Zhou Yunchen. Lu Yao squeezed his eyes shut. He had to be dreaming!

Author’s Note:

General Zhou, what great fortune you have!

 

 

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