Lu Zhao was plunged into a deep and unsettling dream.
The flow of time became bizarre, and his senses were infinitely amplified.
A sudden autumn storm, lashing with hail, trapped them inside the wooden cabin. Howling winds tore through cracks in the walls, making the lone candle flame dance wildly, flickering uncertainly as if ready to extinguish at any moment. The damp, freezing air seemed to seep into their very bones. Even wrapped tightly in every scrap of fabric they could find, their teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Gu Xun's body gave out first. Already more frail than Lu Zhao, his recent severe injuries and drained supernatural abilities made him exceptionally sensitive to the cold. His lips drained of color, his face frighteningly pale, his body trembled faintly beneath the thick, still damp blankets. Even piling most of the available coverings on him did little to help.
"Gu Xun?" Lu Zhao touched his hand, finding it icy cold. In his dream, that chill seemed to carry sharp needles, piercing his heart with pain.
An unprecedented panic seized him—he wasn't warming him; he was snatching his fading soul from the void.
In the darkness, Lu Zhao's voice was hoarse with resolve: "This won't do... We need to get closer."
Without waiting for Gu Xun's response, Lu Zhao stiffly pulled back his own blanket and quickly slipped beneath Gu Xun's. From behind, he wrapped his arms tightly around him.
Both of them trembled.
Within the bizarre logic of the dreamscape, this embrace became the sole reality. Lu Zhao could distinctly feel the icy chill of Gu Xun's entire spine, and in the instant he held him, the unconscious, almost imperceptible tension in Gu Xun's body.
His own heart pounded madly within his chest, a surge of burning blood rushing to his head, his ears burning fiercely. This was the first time he had embraced another person—a man—so completely, so utterly without barrier.
The vague specter of homophobia that had once haunted his heart seemed utterly insignificant in the face of the far greater terror of "losing Gu Xun." It shattered instantly, vaporized, leaving not a trace behind.
As for Gu Xun, after his initial stiffness, the scorching warmth radiating from Lu Zhao's back—young and vibrant—felt like charcoal delivered in the snow. His nearly frozen body instinctively craved closeness. That warmth was too real, too overwhelming, banishing the bone-chilling cold while seeming to iron out the long-frozen lake of his heart.
Lu Zhao's arms wrapped around Gu Xun's waist, pulling him tighter against his chest. His chin rested unconsciously on the top of Gu Xun's slightly damp hair. His hands had initially rested politely on Gu Xun's cold abdomen, attempting to transfer warmth. But the sensation beneath his palms—that smooth yet icy skin—felt like an electric current, sending tingles through his fingertips.
In the darkness, the senses were magnified infinitely. He could smell the crisp scent in Gu Xun's hair, mingled with the scent of rain and earth; hear their intertwined, increasingly ragged breaths; feel Gu Xun's body in his embrace, shifting from initial icy stiffness to gradual softness, even... beginning to warm. This change filled him with wild joy, yet deepened his fear—he dreaded this warmth might be yet another illusion.
It was unclear who stirred first.
Perhaps it was him, unconsciously tightening his arms. His palm shifted slightly upward, brushing against an unexpectedly sensitive spot on Gu Xun's chest.
"Mm..." A faint, stifled groan escaped Gu Xun's throat, like a feather unexpectedly tickling Lu Zhao's eardrums and the tip of his heart.
That low murmur became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Lu Zhao felt a thunderous crash in his mind, every dam of reason collapsing in an instant. He needed proof—absolute, undeniable proof—proof that this person was alive, warm, his, and would never turn into a cold corpse.
He was no longer content merely to seek warmth.
His hands grew bold, exploring with a sense of discovery. His fingertips, calloused yet clumsy, brushed against Gu Xun's waist with an intensity that felt almost scorching. He felt the rising heat beneath the skin, the blood rushing faster beneath it. He lowered his head, his scorching lips pressing against Gu Xun's icy nape with an irresistible, almost desperate force.
Gu Xun's body jerked violently, yet he did not push him away. Instead, as if drained of all strength, he sank deeper into Lu's embrace. He tilted his head back, exposing his vulnerable Adam's apple, his breathing completely derailed, silently consenting to this intimacy that transcended all boundaries.
It was a signal, an invitation to let go at the edge of the cliff.
Lu Zhao's kisses grew urgent and deep, spreading from the nape to the shoulder blades, leaving wet, hot trails as if marking his territory. His hands urgently traced Gu Xun's flat abdomen, exploring every inch of skin growing scorching hot. Gu Xun writhed in unbearable agony, unconsciously yielding, his throat spilling more stifled whispers—more arousing than any encouragement.
Clothing became a superfluous hindrance, hastily shed. Two young bodies lay utterly naked against each other, intertwined in a blend of cold and heat. There was no experience, only instinct and surging emotion, along with Lu Zhao's deep, almost mad drive to confirm his existence through union.
When he finally entered, both of them let out a muffled groan. Gu Xun curled his toes in pain, his fingernails digging unconsciously into Lu Zhao's arm. In this dream, the sharp, clear pain strangely brought Lu Zhao a sense of relief—the pain meant he was still alive, still able to feel, not just a hallucination.
That initial sharp ache was soon drowned by deeper, unfamiliar waves of pleasure. Lu Zhao's movements were clumsy and restrained at first, but upon sensing Gu Xun's acceptance and gradually passionate response, he lost all control. He followed the most primal rhythm, deeply possessing and demanding, as if striving to knock their souls from their bodies only to fuse them completely together.
Outside the wooden hut, wind and rain still raged, hail pelting the roof. Inside, the candle had long since gone out. The darkness held only stifled breaths, tangled bodies, and the mingled scent of sweat. The cold was utterly banished, replaced by a heat intense enough to ignite their very souls.
When the final wave subsided, Lu Zhao still clung tightly to Gu Xun, burying his face in the sweat-damp hollow of his neck as his frantic heartbeat steadied. Gu Xun lay limp in his arms, utterly drained, his fingertips still trembling faintly.
Neither spoke. An overwhelming exhaustion and fleeting sense of completeness enveloped them.
In that profound silence, a clear voice—whether from Gu Xun or his own mind—echoed in his ear:
"Hold me tight... or I'll vanish."
His arms tightened suddenly, only to grasp empty air!
That instant of weightlessness felt like plummeting from a thousand-foot cliff.
Lu Zhao jolted awake amid violent palpitations, his heart nearly leaping from his chest.
Outside the wooden hut, storm clouds gathered thick and dark. The sound of hail pounding the roof wrenched him from a dream too fiery, too violent. He snapped his eyes open, his first instinct a panicked tightening of his arms—
Gu Xun lay perfectly safe in his arms. Her body was slightly cool, but nowhere near the bone-chilling cold of the dream. Her breath was steady and long, and she even unconsciously brushed lightly against his chest in response to his sudden movement.
It was a dream...
Just a dream...
He exhaled a long, trembling breath, only then realizing every muscle in his body was taut and aching, cold sweat soaking his back. The panic of impending loss from the dream still clung to his heart like icy tendrils. He lowered his head, gazing at Gu Xun's peaceful sleeping face amidst the fading sound of wind and rain. A complex, indescribable emotion churned within him, boiling the embers of the dream and the anxieties of reality into a scalding porridge.
And now, the real, pervasive chill was creeping in from all directions. His arm around Gu Xun tightened involuntarily.
Life on the farm was woven from repetitive labor and extreme frugality.
Two months were enough to bring subtle yet solid changes to this small plot of land. The log cabin no longer let in drafts from every crack; Lu Zhao had carefully sealed the most obvious gaps with mud and scraps of wood he'd found. The dry well still yielded no water, but they discovered half a buried rainwater collector. After cleaning it out, it now gathered precious water with every rainfall. A small vegetable patch had been carved out in the corner of the yard. Wild potato tubers and seeds of several cold-hardy wild greens had been planted, and now timid green shoots were beginning to emerge.
Lu Zhao's skin had deepened to a richer wheat color under the autumn sun, which remained as fierce as ever. The muscles on his arms and shoulders had grown more defined and sharp through the daily grind of chopping wood, digging, and repairing. Like a tenacious plant taking root, he swiftly adapted to this land, instinctively embracing the duty to protect this small domain and the people beside him.
Gu Xun's transformation was more subtle. His complexion, once translucently pale upon arrival, had gained a faint flush, though his frame remained slender. Most of his time was spent managing internal affairs: identifying and processing gathered food, ensuring water safety, and using scarce resources to improve their lives. His light-element abilities recovered slowly, now used primarily for basic first aid—stopping bleeding and easing pain when Lu Zhao accidentally injured himself—or, extremely rarely, purifying a handful of particularly murky water. It was a meticulous energy management, survival being the paramount concern.
An unspoken understanding had formed between them. Lu Zhao handled all physically demanding external tasks, while Gu Xun managed the internal "operations." A glance, a gesture, was enough to grasp the other's needs. At night, they usually slept on straw-and-old-hide-covered pallets, separated by a single step. That invisible boundary seemed like the last vestige of their former identities and some lingering inner hesitation.
Late autumn weather shifted unpredictably. Moments ago, the sky had been clear and blue; now, ominous leaden clouds rolled in from the horizon. The wind arrived first, whipping up dust and dead leaves, lashing against the log cabin's flimsy doors and windows with a mournful howl.
"A heavy rain's coming," Lu Zhao hurried inside from outside, clutching the last bundle of firewood he'd rushed to gather. He tossed it by the hearth, brushed the dust from his clothes, and frowned at the sky darkening rapidly beyond the window.
Gu Xun was gathering the few clothes drying indoors. Hearing this, he nodded. "Judging by the clouds, it might be a big one." He walked to the window and reinforced the gaps with a relatively transparent piece of plastic sheeting he'd found.
Soon, pea-sized raindrops began pelting down in rapid succession, clattering against the roof and windows. Immediately after, the wind carried a new sound—finer, more distinct, and more frequent—hailstones.
The temperature plummeted. Damp cold seeped in like invisible snakes, slipping through every tiny crack in the walls and doorways, swiftly devouring what little warmth remained indoors. Lu Zhao immediately lit the firewood in the hearth. Orange-red flames leapt to life, struggling to dispel the darkness and chill.
Yet the fury of this hailstorm exceeded all expectations. Gusts of wind whipped rain into the room, occasionally forcing water back up the chimney. The fire flickered erratically, spewing choking blue smoke. The temperature inside continued to drop, turning every breath into white mist.
Lu Zhao added several thick logs, trying to make the fire burn brighter. He rubbed his hands together and glanced at Gu Xun. Gu Xun had already wrapped himself in every piece of fabric they could find—including the largest, tattered yet cleanly washed animal hide they used as a blanket—and sat closest to the hearth. Even so, his lips were visibly losing color, turning slightly blue, his complexion growing pale once more, his body trembling imperceptibly.
Lu Zhao's heart sank. He knew Gu Xun was sensitive to the cold. His previous severe injuries and the exhaustion from overusing his abilities seemed to have permanently weakened his resistance to the chill. This bone-damp, biting cold was especially hard on him.
"Cold?" Lu Zhao moved closer and sat beside him, his voice naturally softening.
Gu Xun lifted his eyes to meet Lu Zhao's. Long lashes cast small shadows in the firelight. He gave a soft "Mm," offering no pretense about his discomfort. Between them, weakness was no longer something to hide.
Lu Zhao reached out and touched the hand resting on Gu Xun's knee. It was ice-cold to the touch, like holding a piece of frosted jade. He wrapped his large hand around the icy one, trying to generate warmth through friction, but the effect was minimal. Gu Xun's hand lay in his palm—slender, cold, and trembling slightly.
A powerful urge to protect him and an indescribable ache seized Lu Zhao. Seeing Gu Xun's vulnerable state, he recalled countless times before when this man had stood in front of him, using his calmness and wisdom to lead them out of dire straits... An impulse surged within him.
The single step separating them now felt absurdly vast and distant.
Outside, the storm raged fiercer. Hail pelted the roof in a frantic, unsettling rhythm. Another cold draft seeped through the door crack, causing the fireplace flames to flicker violently downward. The room dimmed, the chill deepening. Gu Xun couldn't suppress a shiver, his shoulders hunching inward.
That single, subtle movement shattered the last remnants of hesitation within Lu Zhao's heart, erasing the invisible barrier between them.
He drew a deep breath, as if preparing for a momentous decision, his voice dry with tension: "This won't do... It's too cold."
Avoiding Gu Xun's eyes, he stiffly, almost awkwardly, pulled back the old blanket covering his side. Then, turning sideways, he stretched out his arms and drew Gu Xun—still wrapped in the animal hide and trembling slightly—into a tight, full embrace, holding him completely within his own embrace.
It was a complete embrace. His chest pressed against Gu Xun's back, his arms circling around him, holding him firmly in place. His chin could almost touch the top of Gu Xun's head.
Both of them froze in that instant as the embrace happened.
Lu Zhaoneng could distinctly feel the icy line of Gu Xun's spine and the instinctive, almost imperceptible tension that rippled through his body the moment he held him. His own heart pounded wildly and chaotically within his chest, thumping against his ribs with a volume that seemed to drown out the storm raging outside. A rush of blood surged to his head and cheeks, making his ears burn instantly.
This was the first time in his life he had embraced another person—a man—so completely, so utterly without reservation. The vague shadows and instinctive aversion labeled "homophobia" that had once lurked in his heart melted away instantly, like ice exposed to direct sunlight, leaving not a trace behind in the face of his overwhelming fear that the person in his arms might lose body heat and fall ill. Now, his heart was filled with nothing but a primal, overwhelming desire to warm him, to protect him.
As for Gu Xun, after the initial, instinctive stiffness, the young, vibrant heat radiating from Lu Zhao's body behind him felt like discovering a sudden source of warmth in the frozen wilderness. His nearly frozen body instinctively let out a sigh of longing. That warmth was so real, so overwhelming, penetrating layer upon layer of clothing and animal hides to press against his icy skin, banishing the bone-chilling cold. It didn't merely affect his body; it was like a warm current, silently seeping into the depths of his heart—a place he usually kept cool, composed, and even somewhat closed off—stirring ripples he hadn't anticipated.
Lu Zhao's arms encircled him with an unquestionable sense of protection. He didn't move, simply holding him like this in silence, as if determined to transfer every ounce of his warmth to the other. His palm, at first, lay properly placed over the fur, pressed against Gu Xun's icy abdomen, striving to convey its heat.
In the darkness (the hearth fire dimmed by damp wood), the only sounds beyond the storm raging outside were their own breaths, growing clearer and more audible. Lu Zhao's breath was heavy and warm, brushing against Gu Xun's nape and tangled hair. Gu Xun's breath was much lighter, yet no longer trembling faintly from the cold as it had at first, gradually becoming steady and drawn-out.
After an unknown span of time—perhaps mere minutes, perhaps far longer—Lu Zhao felt Gu Xun's body relax within his embrace. The stiffness faded, and even... she began to lean back ever so slightly, drawing closer to press against his chest.
This subtle, almost unconscious movement felt like a pebble tossed into Lu Zhao's heart, stirring waves far greater than the storm raging outside the window. His arms wrapped around Gu Xun's waist tightened involuntarily. His palms, no longer content with the barrier of the animal hide, seemed to take on a will of their own. With an almost imperceptible tremor, they moved slowly and tentatively, slipping through the edge of the hide's seam.
His fingertips first touched the cool fabric of Gu Xun's thin inner garment. Then he paused, as if waiting, or gathering courage. He could sense Gu Xun's breath catch for a moment, yet her body showed no sign of resistance.
Lu Zhao's fingertips pressed forward, finally meeting a patch of warm, smooth skin—the skin at Gu Xun's waist.
Both of them trembled almost simultaneously, a faint shiver running through them.
Lu Zhao's fingertips felt as if they had been burned by that delicate touch, yet he couldn't bear to pull away. His fingertips bore the calluses of recent labor, yet his movements were as light and gentle as a feather's touch. He stroked that cool, smooth skin with infinite care and reverence. He could distinctly feel the blood beneath that skin begin to flow faster under his touch, its warmth rising gradually and tangibly.
It was a silent communication, more direct than any words could ever be.
Lu Zhao's heartbeat quickened, nearly bursting from his throat. He lowered his head, his lips accidentally brushing against Gu Xun's nape. The skin there was smooth and slightly cool.
Gu Xun's body visibly tensed in his embrace for an instant. A breath, so faint it was nearly drowned out by the wind and rain, reached Lu Zhao's ears. It didn't sound like refusal, but rather an uncontrollable, instinctive reaction to an unexpected touch on a sensitive spot.
Lu Zhao's movement halted. He didn't proceed further, merely maintaining this close proximity, his hot breath washing over Gu Xun's neck as he waited, sensing. He waited for a clear signal, or... a push to move him away.
Instead, what he received was Gu Xun slightly turning his head, exposing more of his neck to Lu Zhao's breath. Then, Gu Xun raised a hand and placed it over the arm that was wrapped around his waist—an arm tense and slightly stiff. He didn't push him away, only resting his hand there lightly, his fingertips cool yet carrying a quiet, soothing strength.
This gesture was like a key, instantly unlocking all the emotional gates within Lu Zhao that had been sealed shut by reason and restraint.
Without hesitation, he lowered his head. His scorching lips, bearing unmistakable desire and an almost reverent solemnity, pressed once more against Gu Xun's nape. This time, it was no accidental brush, but a deliberate, purposeful kiss. His kisses were dense and fiery, spreading from the sensitive skin of the nape down to the slender shoulder blades.
Gu Xun tilted his head back, his Adam's apple involuntarily rolling up and down as his breathing fell completely out of rhythm. The fingers draped over Lu Zhao's arm tightened unconsciously, his fingertips sinking slightly into the other man's taut muscles. He made no sound, but every line of his body spoke of his arousal and silent consent.
Lu Zhao received the clearest response. His kiss deepened, driven by an urgent exploration yet filled with clumsy tenderness born of reverence.
Lu Zhao's palm, carrying a scorching warmth, lingered briefly on Gu Xun's smooth skin at his waist before finally gathering the courage to explore upward with unquestionable gentleness.
Clothing became the most unnecessary barrier in this moment. Lu Zhao's fingers fumbled somewhat awkwardly for the source of the simple knot at Gu Xun's waist. His movements were slightly frantic with urgency, his heavy breaths falling on Gu Xun's sensitive neck. Gu Xun did not stop him. He merely lifted his arm slightly, like a silent invitation, making it easier for Lu Zhao to proceed. When the final barrier fell away, when Lu Zhao's scorching palms touched Gu Xun's cool, supple waist without obstruction, both men let out a suppressed sigh that seemed to come from the depths of their souls.
The sensation of skin touching skin was so real it sent shivers down his spine. Lu Zhao could distinctly feel the fine texture of Gu Xun's skin beneath his palm, the gradually rising warmth, and the faint tension in the lines of his abdominal muscles, whether from nervousness or anticipation. This mere touch alone brought an unbearable, scorching weight, mixed with an overwhelming urge to protect him, nearly drowning him.
He lowered his head, kissing his way down the hollow of Gu Xun's spine, leaving wet, hot trails across that smooth, sensitive skin. Gu Xun's body trembled slightly beneath his lips, no longer from cold, but from an unfamiliar, surging wave of pleasure. He shifted his hips restlessly, as if seeking escape yet craving more, until a faint, broken whimper finally escaped his throat.
That sound acted like the most potent catalyst, completely igniting Lu Zhao's carefully maintained restraint. He was no longer content with this slow exploration. He tightened his arms slightly, drawing Gu Xun's body closer with a force born of mutual desire, pressing their naked lower halves together without a single gap. That burning, hard desire pressed directly against the supple cleft of Gu Xun's buttocks, its presence unmistakable.
Gu Xun's body froze instantly, his breath catching. In the darkness, Lu Zhao couldn't see his expression, but he felt the sudden tension in his back muscles and the fists clenching tightly. A shiver, a mix of fear and intense desire, shot through Gu Xun's entire body like an electric current.
Lu Zhao's movements halted. Panting heavily, his forehead pressed against Gu Xun's sweat-dampened back, his voice raspy beyond recognition, laced with a tremor of uncertainty and immense restraint: "...Gu Xun?" He was asking, but also confirming. He could stop if Gu Xun showed even the slightest hint of resistance.
In response, Gu Xun loosened his clenched fist, his arm sweeping backward. His fingers, carrying a faint chill, grasped Lu Zhao's tense forearm with a touch of weakness yet unwavering resolve. Then, he spread his legs slightly, pushing himself deeper into Lu Zhao's embrace. Simultaneously, he tilted his head, searching for Lu Zhao's lips in the darkness. With a kiss that was awkward yet deliberate, he silenced all unspoken questions.
This kiss was the final permission, the signal of a dam breaking.
All of Lu Zhao's restraint crumbled in that instant. He kissed back deeply, pouring in every emotion pent up for so long—dependence, trust, the urge to protect, and that fiery passion buried deep within, now bursting forth. His arms tightened around Gu Xun's waist, while his other hand reached forward with an irresistible force. Yet the instant it entered, sensing the extreme tightness and warmth, it softened into something incredibly gentle, even trembling with a hint of reverence.
"Ugh...!" Gu Xun gasped sharply in pain at the moment of union, his body arching backward violently. His nails dug deep into Lu Zhao's arm muscles, leaving clear crescent-shaped marks. The pain was sharp and real, the tearing sensation making his vision go white.
Lu Zhao froze instantly, holding him tightly without moving. Scorching kisses rained down on his sweat-dampened shoulders, neck, and back, offering silent comfort as he waited for the initial sharp pain to subside.
As the wave of pain receded, an unfamiliar, filling sensation of fullness surged in its place, accompanied by a deeper, burning heat ignited from within his body. Gu Xun's tense muscles gradually relaxed. He released his grip on Lu Zhao's arm, instead clinging weakly to his sturdy limb, letting out a faint, breathy sigh tinged with a sob.
That gasp was like a command. Lu Zhao began to move slowly, his initial motions tentative and cautious, each thrust seeming to gauge the limits of the person beneath him. His rhythm was deliberate, yet carried a steadfast, mutually aligned force, embedding itself deep within Gu Xun's body.
At first, Gu Xun endured passively, biting his lower lip to suppress every sound deep in his throat. But as Lu Zhao found his rhythm, the slow, deep thrusts began to pinpoint and grind against a hidden, untouched spot within him. A wave of intense, almost soul-shattering pleasure shot like lightning up his spine, straight to the top of his head.
"Ah...!" He could no longer hold back, a cry-laced moan escaping his lips as his body convulsed violently, toes curling tightly.
That moan ignited Lu Zhao's primal instincts. His movements lost all slowness, becoming fierce and rhythmic, like surging waves repeatedly thrusting Gu Xun toward the peak of desire. The simple wooden floorboards creaked under the intensity, their strained groans mingling with their heavy breaths, stifled moans, and the sticky slaps of flesh colliding. Together, they wove a primal, passionate symphony that strangely drowned out the storm still raging outside.
Lu Zhao leaned down, drawing Gu Xun deeper into his embrace. Their chests pressed tightly together, their heartbeats seeming to merge into one, pounding like drums against each other's eardrums. Against Gu Xun's ear, he called his name over and over, his voice hoarse: "Gu Xun... Gu Xun..." As if he were carving that name into his own flesh and bone.
Gu Xun's consciousness drifted amidst waves of pleasure. He tilted his head back, staring blankly at the pitch-black ceiling, responding to Lu Zhao's thrusts purely on instinct, his fingers weakly clawing at the coarse animal hide beneath him. All composure, all restraint shattered completely in this moment, leaving only the most primal reactions and the truest version of himself.
As the final climax arrived, Lu Zhao let out a low, beast-like growl, pouring every ounce of heat and life into the depths of Gu Xun's body. Gu Xun reached his peak too, his body tensing like a bowstring as he emitted a long, stifled moan. A white light exploded before his eyes, as if he witnessed stars being born and then extinguished.
After the storm, a deathly silence fell, broken only by their heavy, uneven breaths.
Lu Zhao collapsed exhausted atop Gu Xun, sweat binding their bodies together. He remained locked in their embrace, reluctant to withdraw, as if only this intimate connection could confirm their shared experience wasn't a dream. Burying his face in the crook of Gu Xun's neck, he greedily inhaled the crisp scent of his skin mingled with the potent, arousal-laden hormones he'd left behind.
Gu Xun lay utterly limp, lacking the strength to lift even a finger. Eyes closed, he felt the lingering aftershocks within him and the heavy weight of the person above. That weight wasn't suffocating; instead, it brought a strange, comforting sense of being filled.
After a long while, Lu Zhao slowly propped himself up, gazing down at Gu Xun beneath him by the faint, dying light of the fireplace. Gu Xun's face still glowed with the lingering flush of passion, his lashes damp and clumped together, his lips slightly swollen. His usually cool expression had been replaced by a rare, languid vulnerability.
Lu Zhao felt as though his heart had been struck by the softest thing imaginable, swelling until it ached. He reached out, using the pads of his fingers to wipe away the physiological tears that had spilled from the corners of Gu Xun's eyes, tears born of the most intense pleasure.
"...Does it hurt?" he asked hoarsely, his voice carrying the post-coital anxiety and an indescribably deep tenderness.
Gu Xun slowly opened his eyes. Even in the dim light, his gaze remained clear, reflecting lingering desire and a watery tenderness Lu Zhao had never seen before. He didn't answer whether it hurt or not. Instead, he lifted his limp arm, hooked it around Lu Zhao's neck, and pulled him back toward himself. A soft, lingering kiss replaced all words.
This kiss was unlike any before. It held no lust, only endless tenderness, affirmation, and belonging.
When the kiss ended, Lu Zhao finally withdrew from Gu Xun's body, carefully cradling him in his arms. He wrapped them both tightly in a nearby, still-clean animal hide. Gu Xun nestled obediently against his chest, listening to the still slightly hurried beat of his heart, feeling the steady, warm heat radiating from his chest.
Outside, the wind and rain had ceased at some point, leaving only the sound of water dripping from the eaves—drip, drip—clear and tranquil.
The cold had been completely banished. Inside the wooden hut, the air was thick with the unique, warm, and ambiguous scent that followed intimacy, along with a deeper, more profound atmosphere called "peace of mind."
Lu Zhao tightened his arms, resting his chin on Gu Xun's soft hair.
"Sleep," he murmured, his voice carrying an unprecedented sense of contentment and calm.
Gu Xun gave a soft "mhm" in his embrace and closed her eyes.
That night, the final barrier between them vanished completely. The breakthrough in their physical connection was merely the ultimate, most direct validation in reality of souls that had long been inextricably intertwined. Upon this brutal wasteland, they were no longer solitary individuals. They had truly become each other's flesh and blood, each other's fortress, each other's eternal, unyielding beacon of warmth in the endless night.