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    Summary

    “What?”

    Lan Zhan blinks at him, the heat of a moment ago fading fast, and somehow that pisses Jiang Cheng off even more—enough for him to slam the glass on the counter and jab a finger into Lan Zhan’s chest. Enough for him to demand, “What the fuck’s your deal? Seriously—if you’re gonna get so fucking judgmental about how I grab a goddamn cup, then at least get the balls to say it to my fucking face!

    Lan Zhan’s eyes get wider and wetter and wildly confused with each word; his stupidly nice lips part, just for a second, like maybe he’s gonna say something—like maybe he’s going to do exactly what Jiang Cheng said, but—shit. Fuck—balls.

    Jiang Cheng didn’t mean to look.

    There’s not even a chance to get mad at himself for it, not when Lan Zhan’s eyes go flinty and hard, when his hand wraps around the back of Jiang Cheng’s head in the blink of an eye—

    —not when Lan Zhan’s kissing him about it.

    Don't ask about the cabinets; don't ask about anything at all.

    Just roll with it.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
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