Chapter 8: Finally Over
He Siming used a bit of force, biting down on the back of Jiang Rong’s neck and leaving a row of teeth marks. Once he was sure Jiang Rong wasn’t pretending not to know, he bit again at the side of his neck.
“Mmh.”
Jiang Rong’s eyes welled up with tears from the pain. It hurt, but no pheromones entered his gland.
He Siming wasn’t a true Alpha. Even if he bit him, it was useless. People in this world didn’t have canine fangs and couldn’t pierce the skin over an Omega’s gland to inject pheromones. They couldn’t suppress an Omega’s active pheromones through a temporary mark—only reach the highest level of physical intimacy with him.
Seeing Jiang Rong frown in pain, the corners of his eyes reddening, He Siming asked, “Did I bite you too hard?”
For his convenience earlier, Jiang Rong had rested his forehead against He Siming’s shoulder to expose his gland. After He Siming bit the side of his neck, Jiang Rong turned his head and leaned against that same shoulder. His shoulders were broad, no different from the top-tier Alphas in Jiang Rong’s original world.
Blinking his watery eyes, Jiang Rong said, “Yeah, it hurts a bit.” He also kissed the side of He Siming’s neck.
Every place Jiang Rong kissed was incredibly sensitive to He Siming. He had never known that after being kissed, every cell in his body would clamor to “ruin him,” “make him cry,” make him cry and beg him to stop.
“Then why did you bite my Adam’s apple?”
The thought flashed through his mind, but his body’s reaction was brutally honest. He prided himself on strong self-control, yet Jiang Rong only had to kiss him a couple of times for his body to lose control.
Jiang Rong looked at him with eyes that were clear black and white yet brimming with desire. “Don’t you like it when I kiss you like this?”
He Siming sighed. “Do you really not know, or are you pretending not to?”
Jiang Rong kissed his lips again. “Hm? I just want to make you happy.” If you’re happy, you’ll secrete more pheromones for me—that part he didn’t dare say out loud.
Jiang Rong had once read a very blunt book describing heat. It said that during heat, an Omega would instinctively try to please their Alpha. Everything Jiang Rong did to He Siming came from instinct—hugging him, kissing him, rubbing against him, pressing close skin to skin.
He leaned closer to He Siming and rubbed against him. Would this make him like it more? If he didn’t like it, what should he do?
“Don’t you like it?” Jiang Rong asked.
Seeing Jiang Rong about to worry again, He Siming said, “It’s not that I don’t like it.” He was truly straightforward.
He proved it with action, taking the initiative to kiss Jiang Rong’s soft, fragrant lips. One hand pressed the back of his neck, the other gripping his waist, pulling him against his own equally burning body. In truth, he really liked how Jiang Rong clung to him.
After countless moments of closeness the night before, Jiang Rong’s body had memorized He Siming’s preferences. He liked Jiang Rong’s kisses—when Jiang Rong kissed his lips or bit his Adam’s apple, He Siming would go harder, and the fresh lime scent on him would be released even more. Just like now, his pheromones were gradually wrapping around Jiang Rong.
Jiang Rong loved it.
He could feel that He Siming was fully prepared, and he tightly wrapped himself around him.
Jiang Rong’s eyes were full of pleading. “He Siming…”
Seeing his own reflection filling Jiang Rong’s eyes, He Siming felt not only his body heat up, but also his heartbeat quicken, his breathing grow heavier.
He was completely unable to escape Jiang Rong’s constant advances. Every move hit his pleasure points precisely. He had no control at all, like a hunter using the most fragrant meat to lure the beast deep in his heart out of its dark cave.
He Siming knew there were many posts about him on the forums, and he’d heard from Ding Yan the labels people stuck on him:
Cold male god.
Ascetic campus heartthrob.
Emotionally detached.
Of course He Siming had desire. He never thought of himself as some detached, worldly-transcendent “pure soul.” He was an ordinary man with desires. He never put himself on a pedestal, nor did he deliberately craft a persona. He disliked the labels stuck to him. A normal person naturally had needs. He had suppressed himself for years—first, because he wouldn’t be casual, and second, because he was afraid that once he opened that door, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
He had a secret even his closest friends didn’t know: his needs were strong. In other words, he might be somewhat lustful. Before meeting Jiang Rong, he practiced abstinence, afraid that once he started, he’d lose control.
Before, he had never met someone he truly wanted to touch. He didn’t dislike them, but there was no reason to accept them either.
He could always see through the naked desire people had for him—toward his family background, his looks. Seeing it too much only strengthened his control, because he didn’t want to become someone else’s prey.
And now, Jiang Rong had become the exception.
He had become the prey.
One consumed by heat, one a “fake ascetic” who ignited at the slightest spark. Dry wood meeting raging fire, nearly burning them both to ashes.
He Siming’s movements were no longer as gentle as at the start. Jiang Rong asked for it, and he gave it—gave him plenty.
Jiang Rong’s heat today was even more intense than yesterday. Likewise, having tasted desire and gained experience, He Siming no longer held back.
The not-so-soft leather sofa slowly sank under them, waves rising and falling, like dragons roaring and tigers howling.
Heat was simply pheromones accumulating in the gland to a critical point—like a bottle that could only hold 500 milliliters of water. Once it overflowed, the solution was to use an Alpha’s pheromones to neutralize the excess.
It was a physically demanding activity. The neutralized pheromones mixed with sweat and dripped onto the sofa, soaking a small section.
Jiang Rong was scorched by his own pheromones. When what belonged to He Siming entered him, his pheromones were soothed, and his body trembled with pleasure.
After the first round that night, Jiang Rong lay on his side with his back to He Siming, panting. His brows relaxed, and his vulnerable nape was fully exposed.
He Siming realized that Jiang Rong especially liked having his nape bitten. Without needing to be taught, he bit down on that area—pink and tender skin at the back of the neck—grinding it gently with his teeth. This time, he bit harder.
“Mmh,” Jiang Rong groaned. “He Siming, it hurts.”
Yet that pain stopped the pheromones inside Jiang Rong from running wild. It felt as if a tiny bit of He Siming’s pheromones had truly entered him—very faint, but effective. Aside from the pain, it was actually quite comfortable.
So this was what a temporary mark felt like?
He Siming felt Jiang Rong’s grip on him tighten, his whole body taut.
He kissed his beautiful shoulder, soothing him. “You like this?”
Jiang Rong pressed closer to his chest. “Mmh, it’s not me… it’s the pheromones that need it…” It was all the heat controlling him—this wasn’t how he normally was.
He Siming couldn’t understand him again. Perhaps Jiang Rong’s memory was muddled from the drugs. If he wasn’t better by tomorrow, he’d take him to the hospital for an injection. This couldn’t go on.
Seeing that He Siming had stopped biting him, Jiang Rong turned over and pressed close again. “He Siming, shall we continue?”
He Siming: “…”
Now he seriously suspected that his so-called strong libido had been a misconception.
He was at an age of abundant energy and no longer needed restraint. He could truly do whatever he wanted.
Since Jiang Rong had invited him, how could he refuse?
And so, again and again, He Siming accepted Jiang Rong’s invitations, agreeing without any bottom line. This indulgence continued all the way until Monday night.
Aside from leaving briefly on Saturday afternoon to calm himself down for a few hours, neither of them left the hotel. Later, He Siming thought—thank goodness he’d gone out to rest for a bit, or his stamina really might not have held out.
Novel protagonists who could go seven times in one night were impressive—but he was a hundred times stronger. He had fought continuously for three days and three nights!
Jiang Rong’s heat lasted a full three days. When he woke up, it was already Tuesday morning.
There was no sticky discomfort on his body. Every time he rested, He Siming would carry him into the bathroom to clean him and replace the sheets and covers, again and again.
His heat was finally over.
Sunlight slipped through the gap in the not-quite-drawn curtains. Hugging the blanket, Jiang Rong sat up, feeling a little dazed.
All the memories of the past three days flooded back. He clutched the blanket and buried his face in it, not daring to recall the things he had said to He Siming, the things he had done.
After calming his embarrassment and helplessness, Jiang Rong realized He Siming wasn’t there. These past two days, every time he woke up, he’d been in He Siming’s arms. Sometimes, when his pheromones surged, he would half-dreamingly pin He Siming down himself.
He was so bad—damn these pheromones.
Still, he had truly and completely become an Omega, the secondary gender his parents had always hoped for.
He jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. The marks on the back of his neck were the deepest—He Siming’s teeth marks were still there.
His body was covered in traces left by their battles—there wasn’t an inch of skin without marks.
The more Jiang Rong looked, the more embarrassed he became.
He had spent three full days of heat with a not-so-familiar classmate, acting completely unlike himself. He couldn’t even imagine that he could do such things or say those words.
Help—he really had no face left to show anyone.
Jiang Rong tried hard to get over that mental hurdle. What would He Siming think of him?
He had slept with Qin University’s campus heartthrob, after all.
But… where was He Siming?
Wrapped in a bathrobe and wearing an utterly lifeless expression, Jiang Rong came out of the bathroom—only to see the man he’d been naked with for three days push the door open, a paper bag in his hand.
Jiang Rong’s eyes lit up. It was He Siming.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but He Siming seemed a bit less energetic than before—there were dark circles under his eyes.
Jiang Rong guiltily thought: That shouldn’t be because of me, right?
