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Summary
Taerae dropped his cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and stepped into Zhang Hao’s space. One hand braced against the railing behind Hao, boxing him in. “Tell me to back off.”
Hao froze, eyes flicking from Taerae’s hand to his mouth. His own breath caught in his throat. “Fuck you.”
Taerae leaned in closer, nose brushing against Hao’s. “Not a no.”