Futile Devices Scans

Zhou Ruo An had his hands overlapped and pinned hard against the wall by Lin Yi.

He could barely stand, his body continuously sliding downward. Lin Yi caught him from behind, an arm around his waist, pressing tightly against his slender back as he enclosed him within his embrace.

Zhou Ruo An had always been adept at taking advantage of comfort. In front of others, he could put on appearances, but in private he was the type who would lean whenever possible rather than stand. Now, under the influence of the drug, he acted purely on instinct. Naturally, he leaned into the warmth behind him, tilting his head back to rest in the hollow of Lin Yi’s neck, finding a comfortable position.

The overhead white light was glaring, forcing him to squint. He turned his head slightly to avoid the direct brightness. His breath brushed against the prominent Adam’s apple before him—this piece of cartilage felt oddly familiar. Lifting his lashes, he looked again, somewhat surprised. “Lin Yi?”

Lin Yi lowered his head, gazing down at the person in his arms, and asked lightly, “Awake now?”

Zhou Ruo An’s eyes had adjusted to the light. He stared at Lin Yi for a moment, then broke into a smug grin. “Lin Yi, I beat you to it—I’ve already ‘opened up’.”

With his thoughts stripped of logic by the drug, he felt nothing strange about being restrained like this. The cells in his body seemed to swell and stack endlessly. A powerful sense of comparison and competitiveness surged within him. He pulled one hand free from the restraint and urgently reached for the expensive belt at his waist.

“Don’t believe me?” he said, beginning to undo it. “I’ll show you—”

But in the next moment, the impatient man abruptly stopped all movement. He thought seriously for a moment, then muttered under his breath, “I gave her fifty thousand… I need to get it back.”

“What did you take?” Lin Yi gripped Zhou Ruo An’s jaw, lifting his face. “Something illegal?”

There was no answer. Zhou Ruo An seemed to sink into another illusion. He swallowed, his nostrils flaring slightly, no longer able to suppress the restless desires surging within him.

His hand fumbled again at the belt buckle, but in his agitation, it wouldn’t come loose. After several failed attempts, he cursed under his breath, “Damn it!”

“Don’t move.” Lin Yi caught that wandering hand and returned it to its place. “I’ll do it.”

His broad palm first landed on Zhou Ruo An’s chest, pressing over the scar on his left shoulder. His fingertips traced the faintly raised contour before sliding slowly downward along the smooth fabric, reaching the hem of his shirt.

He lifted it upward and brought it to Zhou Ruo An’s lips. “Hold it.”

Zhou Ruo An froze.

He was still leaning in Lin Yi’s arms. The steady rhythm of the man’s heartbeat behind him seemed to strike through his bones, crashing loudly within his heated blood.

Amid that overwhelming sensation, Zhou Ruo An did something he would never have done while sober.

He parted his lips—and bit down on the fabric.

Lin Yi’s gaze shifted slightly. He lingered on those lips for a moment before his eyes moved downward, settling on Zhou Ruo An’s waist.

In the urban village, men often went shirtless in the height of summer. Especially in the evenings, roadside stalls would be filled with bare torsos—men drinking beer and scrubbing grime from their skin.

Zhou Ruo An might have been the only man in the urban village who never went shirtless in summer. It had nothing to do with refinement—he simply disliked wandering hands and the teasing remarks:

“Your skin’s so pale and smooth—it’s like a woman’s.”

Indeed, it was pale and fine—but not soft and delicate like a woman’s. Zhou Ruo An’s waist carried a resilient curve, like a supple bow; only when strung did one realize how much strength it contained.

Where the gaze fell, the fingertips followed. The force and rhythm were unhurried, steady—Lin Yi was like a storm pressing in from the edge of the city, advancing slowly, enough to set one’s nerves on edge.

But Zhou Ruo An was impatient.

The restless agitation within him made him uneasy. Countless impulsive urges surged through his mind, yet under those hands, they were forcibly slowed.

“Hurry…” His voice was muffled by the fabric clenched between his teeth.

Lin Yi indulged him. With a flick of his fingers, the metal buckle slipped free. The zipper slid smoothly—just a light pull, and what lay restrained was revealed, poised and ready.

In the next instant, a broad hand settled over it.

Zhou Ruo An’s body trembled suddenly, his breathing turning erratic. His legs weakened, and he swayed, unable to stand steady.

Lin Yi pushed him forward slightly. “Hold yourself up.”

The freed hand pressed against Zhou Ruo An’s waist.

When the thumb sank into the hollow of his lower back, the trembling finally stilled.

The movement of the other hand matched the rhythm of Zhou Ruo An’s breathing—tightening, loosening—pulling him deeper and deeper into it.

But through the barrier of clothing, it felt like an itch not quite reached.

Zhou Ruo An grew irritated. He reached back and hooked an arm around Lin Yi’s neck, his voice rough, as if scraped by glass. “Are you even capable?”

As he spoke, the fabric slipped from between his teeth, leaving a dark, damp mark of saliva.

Lin Yi glanced at the stained cloth, then leaned closer. Warm breath brushed against Zhou Ruo An. “Did I tell you to let go?”

Grabbing his hair, he pressed him back against the wall, pulling the fabric aside and handling him roughly a few times.

Calluses on his fingers heightened the sensation manyfold. Zhou Ruo An’s entire body swayed—his back and shoulders rising and falling like cresting waves.

The near-punishing force brought a trace of pain. Instinctively, Zhou Ruo An curled inward, trying to evade the sharp intensity.

A strong arm hooked around him again, pulling him back into an embrace. Warm breath swept past his ear as Lin Yi spoke close against him:

“You want it, yet you’re afraid of pain. Zhou Ruo An… you really are shameless—wanting everything while pretending otherwise.”

Amid the intense rise and fall, threads of pain wove through the sensation. Under the combined effects of the drug and his own craving, Zhou Ruo An was no longer capable of rational thought. He reached back, cupping Lin Yi’s head, and with effort turned his neck, trying to dissolve the tension between them with a kiss.

Their lips drew closer, their breaths hotter and hotter—yet at the final moment before contact, Lin Yi frowned and turned his face away.

He pushed Zhou Ruo An back and asked, “Zhou Ruo An, do you even know who I am right now?”

When their eyes met, something surged beneath the surface. Somehow, Zhou Ruo An seemed to catch onto a thread of clarity amid the chaos in his mind. He paused slightly, and a faint, fragile “Lin Yi” slipped from his lips.

As if recalling what he had just done, Zhou Ruo An’s expression changed instantly.

“Damn it!”

Lin Yi’s anger finally surfaced. He shoved Zhou Ruo An into the corner of the stall, his movements rough and unrestrained.

Zhou Ruo An struggled—but only for a moment. The overwhelming sensation surged back over him, his consciousness once again clouded. With reason gone, only raw, growing desire remained.

Amid the forceful motions, he found both pain and pleasure. Breathing in the faint scent of smoke clinging to Lin Yi, his body gradually softened, his bones seeming to melt. At some point, he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck again, cautiously brushing against the dry edge of his lips.

“Zhou Ruo An—though you’re one of a kind in how rotten you are,” Lin Yi said, looking down into those unfocused eyes, “you’re also…” He paused, voice low and blunt. “…like this.”

The pace quickened again. After several forceful, unrestrained movements, a strained exhale finally echoed within the narrow space.

Without giving Zhou Ruo An any time to recover or linger in the aftermath, Lin Yi withdrew and stepped away.

Deprived of support, Zhou Ruo An slid slowly down along the partition, collapsing into the corner of the stall, disheveled.

Lin Yi glanced at his hand, then bent slightly. Reaching out, he wiped it across Zhou Ruo An’s face.

He studied him for a moment, then took down the camera that had been slung behind him. Pulling up the photos he had taken earlier in the parking garage, he snapped copies with his phone and sent them to the man in front of him, who was no longer fully aware.

When Zhou Ruo An’s phone chimed with a notification, Lin Yi raised the camera again, looking through the lens at the man—clothes in disarray, posture collapsed, utterly undone.

His finger pressed the shutter. In that instant, Zhou Ruo An was captured in an indecent frame.

Then the stall door was pushed open. The man with the camera stepped out calmly.

The door swung shut behind him, creaking with a harsh, grating sound…

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