From that day onward, Qin Siyu sometimes went to the ‘secret base.’ He always managed to find an excuse: he needed to deliver something, ask a question… and then they lost control.
At the end of August, classes finally resumed. Lin Suyu left for Yale, and Qin Siyu returned to Berkeley.
Between commissions from the laundry and the wages they had earned from assorted jobs during the summer, they had finally scraped together enough for Lin Suyu’s tuition at Yale.
She didn’t fly. She couldn’t afford it. She left a week early and spent seven days traveling by train from San Francisco to New Haven.
Although vacation was over, Qin Siyu didn’t intend to stop volunteering at the hospital. He continued on Sundays, adjusting his hours so that after finishing his Sunday evening shift, he could go straight to the Sunset District.
He didn’t stay overnight there. They still couldn’t completely put aside their barriers. But neither could they endure the distance, and they kept crossing further boundaries.
They were still in the habit of turning off the lights.
Aston liked kissing Qin Siyu’s neck. It was slender and supple, with smooth, fine skin, different from the necks of Westerners. He liked pressing Qin Siyu onto the bed and lingering with kisses along his throat. There was a small mole on the side of his neck; Aston liked smelling that spot, sucking and licking the skin around it until, when the lights came on, a reddened circle surrounded the little black mole on pale skin. The mole looked almost pitiful.
Aston often licked the back of his neck and his Adam’s apple too. Whenever he licked the latter, Qin Siyu let out a low moan. Qin Siyu found it madness: those unmistakably masculine features should have been deliberately ignored, but instead they seemed obsessed with them, actively seeking them out.
Qin Siyu hardly dared touch Aston. But once, after Aston had helped him find release, he took Qin Siyu’s hand and put a pair of pure-black leather gloves on him, exactly like the pair Aston himself had worn when they killed the bear. Then he grasped Qin Siyu’s hand and pressed it against himself, making him hold on firmly, while Aston did the rest. Qin Siyu was naked, his mind tingling and his whole body shaking.
The first time he touched Aston this way, Qin Siyu didn’t feel repulsed. Instead he was excited. There was a living pulse there, the rhythm of an adult male body. Qin Siyu wanted to give him pleasure and even… wanted to receive him.
Aston was just as excited. Holding Qin Siyu’s gloved hand, he moved it back and forth. At a certain moment he commanded, ‘Stick out your tongue.’
Qin Siyu obeyed. His tongue was sucked and entwined.
Qin Siyu brought some of his belongings to the secret base. At the same time, to avoid suspicion, he stopped making arrangements to see Aston at school.
After the semester began, they scarcely interacted on campus at all.
And Qin Siyu was busy. He had to attend classes, do homework, work for money, volunteer, help his professors with research, and visit the ‘secret base.’ Every day was packed.
About a month into the semester, the college held a lecture, guidance sessions, and several consultation meetings about choosing majors.
After one meeting, several students lingered in the classroom, discussing the matter anxiously.
‘I don’t know what to choose,’ said one student. ‘Whatever I major in, I’ll end up unemployed.’
‘And it’s harder to get into graduate school!’ said another. ‘I read a newspaper article recently. People who lose their jobs, and people who can’t find work after graduation, are all going back to school! A Harvard student who majored in mathematics lost his job at the end of ’29. He did a master’s in mechanical engineering and still couldn’t find work. Last year he took another master’s in aeronautical engineering… At Harvard, no less!’
Someone asked two young women, ‘What are you planning to study?’
One answered, ‘Political science. I want to help find a way forward for America.’
‘Hahahaha!’ Several people, some mocking and some sincere, told her, ‘Forget it… Everyone who goes into politics has connections, like Endicott Cliff, who chose politics last year. Don’t forget Roosevelt had a distant cousin who was president too.’
‘I know the future will be difficult,’ the young woman said. ‘But that’s my dream.’
The other woman answered, ‘Personally, I want to study economics. I want to understand… why everyone around me is struggling to survive. I’m so confused.’
‘Economics? You two…’ The others clicked their tongues. ‘Do you understand whom you’ll be competing with for jobs? Endicott Cliff in one field, Kingsley Aston in the other. People with family backgrounds like theirs! You’d have to be crazy…’
But the women shook their heads. ‘So what? They have their advantages, and we have ours.’
‘So naive.’
The conversation returned to Endicott Cliff and Kingsley Aston. A student said, ‘Still, Kingsley Aston really is extraordinary, isn’t he? The university just announced that Phi Beta Kappa has admitted him, and he’s only a junior.’
It was a prestigious academic honor society.
Watching the envy on their faces, Qin Siyu thought without changing his expression: My man.
‘Top grades, a paper in a leading journal. Normal enough, I suppose. He’s even a college champion in sports. Ugh, how can he have so much energy?’
Qin Siyu thought again: He’s mine!
Someone said, ‘He probably has very clear goals and never gets distracted. Incredible self-control. You know Evelyn Hart, don’t you? She’s becoming famous. She was an upperclasswoman in Berkeley’s theater society and once liked him. She was very forward, but he turned her down! Hollywood scouts discovered her in her senior year. She’s become famous over the last two years.’
Under the Great Depression, traditional ideas were collapsing. Marriage was becoming a distant, uncertain thing, and dating and marriage were increasingly viewed as separate matters. Not long ago the media had reported that more than half of those born after 1910 had engaged in sex before marriage in recent years. Dating in college was extremely fashionable.
Another person said, ‘I knew Evelyn Hart went to Berkeley, but I hadn’t heard that story. Maybe he just doesn’t like that type. Nobody knows what kind of person he likes.’
Qin Siyu remained expressionless, lowering his eyes to the desk.
What kind of person did Aston like?
Well—
He heard someone say, ‘But it’s Evelyn Hart! He probably just doesn’t want to date. Such strong self-control.’
No, Qin Siyu thought. When Kingsley falls in love, he’s incredibly proactive and passionate in a relationship.
The conversation returned to the original subject. A male student said, ‘Aren’t the fraternities about to choose new officers? I wonder if he’ll stay on. Junior year is demanding. His schedule’s already full. Could he really manage it? That would be superhuman.’
Then, quite suddenly, James slipped into the conversation. James had once hoped to write a paper with Aston, only to be ridiculed in the café. Later he’d tried to embarrass Qin Siyu at a masquerade. Now he said slyly, ‘Sean seems to know him. Maybe he knows. We were in the same class before, and Sean said he knew him.’
Two minutes earlier, Qin Siyu had noticed some mysterious stains on his desk, which had dirtied his notebook. He’d gone to the front, fetched a cleaning rag, returned to his seat, and was wiping the desktop. At James’s words, he looked up. ‘???’
Everyone turned toward him. Qin Siyu said calmly, ‘We’re not close.’
Everyone looked as though to say, Naturally.
Kingsley Aston always spent time with Endicott Cliff and people of their circle.
Some students now looked at Qin Siyu as though thinking, That Asian student probably boasts about knowing Kingsley Aston to raise his own status. But they aren’t actually connected. Now he’s been asked in front of everyone and can only admit they aren’t close.
Qin Siyu knew those looks well.
Berkeley was relatively progressive and open, yet discrimination remained commonplace. It was written into the laws and institutions, backed by the government itself, long ingrained in people’s bones.
After the incident in Yosemite, when Qin Siyu had rescued Lucy and Lily, the attitudes of his classmates who were there had genuinely changed. But white students weren’t about to spread tales of a Chinese hero far and wide, so people outside that group knew nothing about it.
Now that the students were splitting into separate majors, Qin Siyu would again have to ‘prove himself and change people’s minds.’ How ironic.
Thinking the matter finished, he folded the rag so the dirty side was tucked in and went back to wiping.
‘So you aren’t close after all.’ James looked at him again and suddenly smiled. ‘Hey, Sean! What are you doing there?’
James knew that the two hadn’t been seen together at all lately. Last semester he’d spotted them walking side by side, but this term there was no contact. Perhaps Qin Siyu had offended Kingsley Aston. One day in the dining hall, Qin Siyu had entered with a tray, noticed Aston sitting alone, paused, and chosen a seat as far away as possible.
Perfect. James had wanted to teach him a lesson for a long time. Once they had all chosen majors, his opportunities would dwindle.
Qin Siyu looked up again. ‘???’
He’d only just wiped down the desk.
‘Practicing how to polish shoes?’ Discriminating against people like Qin Siyu was considered ‘right.’ Some people at least disguised it for appearance’s sake, but there were plenty like James. He laughed. ‘Sean, are you still polishing other people’s shoes? Are you so bad at it that you have to practice now? You’ll polish anything, huh? Want me to ask if anyone here would like to let you earn a little money?’
He often used remarks like this to win others over. Racism against Chinese people was widely accepted, and plenty of white students who preferred to seem respectable still enjoyed listening to such jokes.
He’d always played to the crowd this way. Qin Siyu was thinking that today he really had to put James in his place, and had begun to rise, when a subtle stir spread through the classroom. Everyone turned toward the door, even straightening in their seats.
‘?’ Qin Siyu looked over too, and saw Kingsley Aston walking in, long legs carrying him forward, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
He was habitually cold, but Qin Siyu had never seen that expression on his face before.
No, wait. He’d seen something even more frightening once, on the day in Yosemite.
Aston picked the rag off Qin Siyu’s desk, his movements slow and his fingers long. Before anyone could react, he slapped it onto James’s handsome face, raised a long leg, and kicked him hard!
His foot drove into James’s face through the rag, knocking him backward, chair and all. A tremendous crash rang out in the silent classroom!
James hit the floor with a cry. ‘Ahhhhh!’
The entire classroom was utterly silent. Everyone stared wide-eyed, holding their breath.
James sat up, his voice stuck in his throat. His face showed terror and uncertainty as he stared at Aston and kept scrabbling backward along the floor.
Aston stepped elegantly and easily over a chair, took two more paces, and stood before him. He bent down, picked the dirty rag off James, then raised his eyes. This time he laid the rag lightly over James’s face, lifted his foot, and stepped on that face, slowly grinding the sole of his shoe against the rag, hard.
Clearly, he wanted his shoes ‘polished.’
His soles, to be precise.
James was stunned. For a moment he didn’t dare move.
The classroom was taut with tension. A student leaned slightly in the opposite direction; his chair creaked. Everyone snapped their gaze toward the noise. The student froze.
After several strokes, Aston finally withdrew his foot. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead, giving him a dangerous, almost bewitching appearance. His icy blue eyes looked down at James. James stammered, ‘I… I… you…’
Aston ignored him and returned to Qin Siyu’s side. Taking a pocket watch from his coat pocket, he set it down before him. ‘Sean, you left your watch at my place.’
‘Oh.’ Qin Siyu looked up at him. ‘Thank you.’
Aston smiled faintly. ‘You’re welcome.’
Before leaving, Aston glanced once more at James, then swept his gaze casually over the other faces in the room, withdrew it, and walked out.
The classroom atmosphere was like a cemetery. Qin Siyu turned his head, met the eyes of a student across the aisle, and smiled. ‘See? We’re really not close.’
He was certain now that he’d sensed correctly. At heart, Kingsley Aston was mad.
That night they returned to the little rented house together.
Aston went back first. Qin Siyu was busy until evening.
The instant Qin Siyu stepped inside, Aston pinned him against the entrance, met his eyes, and demanded, ‘We’re not close? In what way aren’t we close?’
‘…’ Qin Siyu wrapped his arms around Aston’s shoulders, stroked the back of his neck with one hand, caught his lips, and licked his tongue. ‘I don’t know… Does this count as close?’
He parted his lips to let Aston enter. Their mouths pressed together, their tongues twining. Aston breathed quietly and asked, ‘Are we really not close?’
Qin Siyu reached for Aston’s hand and threaded their fingers together, holding tight. ‘I don’t know… Is this enough?’
Aston pressed against another part of him. With Qin Siyu pinned to the door, he pushed against him again and again. ‘What about now? Is this enough?’
Qin Siyu gave a muffled moan.
‘I—’ Suddenly Qin Siyu took control, clasped Aston’s head and neck, and plunged his tongue into Aston’s mouth, exploring wildly without any technique until he was pushed back. They kissed for a long time. Then Qin Siyu said, ‘Of course “we’re not close”… is a lie. I’ve heard the only “I love you” you’ve ever said, Kingsley. I was the only person who heard it. You said it to me.’
‘Only once?’ Aston asked.
‘Mm.’
Aston kissed him again, then suddenly said, ‘I love you.’
Qin Siyu froze.
Then he heard Aston repeat it. Aston laughed gently. ‘That’s three times now. And you’re the only person who has heard them all.’
His voice was beautiful: low, captivating. After the soft sound of love, even the following you carried a breathy quality.
Such a beautiful voice. Surely no one else had heard this, Qin Siyu thought. He couldn’t stand it. In the faint moonlight he stroked the corner of Aston’s eye and at last spoke those words in the official language of the country: ‘I love you, too, Kingsley Aston.’
He’d said it aloud too.
When they switched the lights on, Aston noticed a fashion magazine on the cabinet near the entrance. He looked at Qin Siyu. ‘What’s this?’
‘Ah.’ Qin Siyu’s gaze fell on it. ‘I passed a newsstand and happened to see an interview with Evelyn Hart. Everyone says you couldn’t possibly want to date anyone if you even rejected her. I wanted to see how pretty she is.’
Aston: ‘…’
He said, ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘No. The magazine was farther inside the stand, and I even got some newspaper ink on my shirt reaching in to buy it.’ Qin Siyu carried the magazine into the living room, turned to the interview, and was struck by her beauty.
He opened to the page, held it up to Aston, and said, ‘She’s so beautiful.’
No wonder she’d become a Hollywood star.
But Aston didn’t look at the picture even once. He stared only at Qin Siyu’s face over the top of the magazine.
Qin Siyu turned a page and was amazed again. He held the magazine up once more. ‘Really gorgeous.’
Aston was still staring at Qin Siyu. Slowly and deliberately he stretched out a hand, grasped the magazine, pulled it aside, shut it one-handed, and tossed it into the distance. Then he seized Qin Siyu’s tongue again.
They fell onto the sofa, switched off the floor lamp, kissed, and kissed along each other’s necks. Qin Siyu turned his head. Aston licked the tendons at the side of his throat. Qin Siyu nudged him. ‘Um, not yet… The college explained some things about choosing majors today. I want to write up my notes as soon as possible.’
He was afraid he’d forget something. He needed to organize it all, and afterward he was usually exhausted.
Aston shut his eyes and restrained himself. After a few seconds he got up. ‘All right.’
His clothes were disheveled.
Qin Siyu straightened his clothes, went into the room, pulled out his notes, and began organizing the information.
Sure enough, medicine had quotas, and Chinese students had great difficulty getting a place.
First-year grades mattered most, especially mathematics, physics, chemistry, and biology. Language grades mattered too, such as English composition. Qin Siyu ranked first in all of them.
Relevant electives could earn extra credit. He had those now.
Research papers helped, naturally. He had one.
Laboratory experience also counted. After he’d helped Professor Watson catch cockroaches, Watson had taken a liking to him and brought him into several additional projects involving viruses.
Thank goodness cockroaches existed! At the time Professor Watson had struggled to find anyone willing to do the work. He’d asked everywhere. Professor Brown knew Qin Siyu needed money and had plenty of relevant experience, so he introduced them. Watson was delighted with him and included him in later projects.
Volunteer experience added to the application. He had Professor Watson to thank again for offering a helping hand. And a physician’s recommendation would count for additional points.
Qin Siyu thought: Dr. Sterling?
The hospital’s emergency department was most closely connected to surgery. Dr. Sterling headed the surgical department, held a senior title, and carried considerable authority. He’d once had prejudices, but after several incidents, especially the discovery that Pearl actually had systemic lupus erythematosus, his attitude had changed. They now got along pleasantly.
Sometimes Qin Siyu felt there was such a thing as ‘destiny’ in the world.
For example, he hadn’t made a living in Cantonese opera, but because he’d once studied it, he’d met Professor Brown in the theater. Professor Brown had introduced him to Professor Watson, which led to research projects, volunteer work, and even his paper with Kingsley… The path was extraordinary. It was as though the world refused to let certain experiences go to waste.
Qin Siyu didn’t believe he and Aston could spend their entire lives together, but couldn’t help wondering: What would this experience of his mean?
What awaited him?
By the time he’d organized everything, it was eleven.
Aston came in. ‘Have you sorted it all out?’
‘More or less,’ Qin Siyu replied.
‘I chose my major last year,’ Aston said earnestly. ‘Can I help with anything?’
Qin Siyu considered a moment, opened a drawer, and took out his notebook. ‘Could you help me remember whether I’ve missed anything?’
‘Of course.’
Qin Siyu had a very good memory and his notes were thorough, so Aston had little to add. Instead he provided some inside information and advice. For example: ‘At the interview, don’t focus entirely on wanting to become a doctor. The interviewers are professors of biology and chemistry. You can say that you want to be a doctor, but emphasize wanting to study biochemistry. For instance, you want to become a doctor, and that’s why you’re interested in researching viruses.’
Qin Siyu wrote it down carefully. ‘Mm-hmm.’
When he finished, he put his notebook back in the drawer.
They shared this desk. Beneath its left side stood a cabinet; on the right were two drawers of equal size. The upper drawer was Qin Siyu’s and the lower one Aston’s.
As the drawer opened, Aston suddenly noticed a bulging folder tucked against the inside. His own name was written across it: Kingsley Aston.
He bent slightly, pulled the drawer fully out, and looked at the folder. ‘What’s this?’
Qin Siyu craned his neck to glance at it, fell silent for a second, and tried to close the drawer. ‘Nothing.’
Aston caught Qin Siyu’s hand, met his eyes, reached in with the other hand, and took out the file.
Lowering his gaze, he opened it and drew out the contents. ‘…’
Everything inside concerned Aston himself.
School yearbooks, campus magazines, society publications…
Profiles of outstanding students, reports on intercollegiate competitions…
He raised his eyes again. ‘What is all this?’
Their gazes scraped against each other. Qin Siyu finally spoke. ‘I bought it in April.’
‘Why?’
Qin Siyu took a deep breath. ‘Because I wanted to know you.’
Aston sat in the chair by the desk, drew Qin Siyu sideways onto one thigh, embraced him, and said, ‘There are some details behind these things that I’d like to tell only you, Sean. No one else knows them. Only you will. Would that be all right?’
Still held carefully within Aston’s arms, Qin Siyu treasured the material. ‘Of course.’
These publications had sold many copies; countless people at school had them. But very soon the stories behind them would contain details nobody else knew, known only to him.
Sean is different, Aston thought. He should know more about everything in my life. Every single thing.
Especially the important moments. Qin Siyu wasn’t allowed to know merely as much as everyone else. He had to know as much as Aston, the one who’d lived through them.
Aston disliked Qin Siyu’s declaration that ‘we’re not close.’
He spread the stack in front of him, looked down, and began telling the old stories one by one.
‘This horse is named Comet. She’s trained specifically for show jumping. She’s still at Hillsborough; we can visit her another day. She’d had a previous owner, and when she first arrived she wouldn’t eat. Later I bought her best friend as well, and she finally became happy again. She’s sensitive, very delicate in her feelings, and cared for by a female groom. If she thinks her owner’s affection has diminished, she becomes depressed. Her parents were both fierce, bad-tempered horses, but she’s gentle. You can’t see it in the photograph, but she shows a little more white around her eyes than most horses…’
Qin Siyu listened attentively.
So the horse he’d ridden that day was Aston’s most beloved mount, both ride and companion. He also had horses specifically for jumping, cross-country riding, polo, hunting…
‘As for this boxing match…’ Aston smiled. ‘Before it began, I think he wanted to unsettle me. He suddenly lowered his voice and said—’
Qin Siyu looked at him. ‘What?’
‘He told me, “If the Paralympics had a dance contest, you ought to enter. You don’t use your fists, only those soft, floppy legs.”‘
Elio’s Notes: The quoted insult mentions the Paralympics, but the Paralympic movement’s precursor, the Stoke Mandeville Games, began in 1948; the first Paralympic Games took place in 1960. The period-inaccurate reference is present in the original Chinese and is retained rather than rewritten. Source: International Paralympic Committee, history.
‘And then?’
‘He was knocked out in less than fifteen seconds.’
‘Hahaha! Served him right.’
They went through each item in no hurry. Qin Siyu realized that even though countless people had read these publications, only he knew the fuller stories and details: that the horse was named Comet; that the boxing opponent had tried to provoke Aston before their match…
Even Kingsley’s emotions and thoughts at the time.
Nobody else knew them.
Qin Siyu suddenly asked, ‘Not even Cliff?’
Aston shook his head slowly. ‘Why would I tell my friends such things?’
In the warm yellow light, Qin Siyu lowered his eyes toward Aston.
After a moment he shifted to sit astride Aston’s thigh, used his fingertips to tilt Aston’s chin up, and kissed him.
Darkness or light, it no longer mattered.
They rubbed and tangled tongues, drawing moisture and stealing each other’s breath. Aston held Qin Siyu’s waist and lightly scratched his lower-back dimples. Qin Siyu felt ticklish and aroused, squirming a little on Aston’s thigh while kissing him. When he extended his tongue, Aston caught it between his lips, slid along it, drew it in again, and teased it.
Qin Siyu lowered his eyes but kept watching. Apart from that one time when they’d been ‘confused for a moment,’ they’d never kissed in the light. Now they watched each other openly. Sometimes they separated and leaned nose to nose, studying the unfocused look in each other’s eyes, seeing their own reflections, then kissing passionately again.
Unmistakably, he was entwining his tongue with another man’s.
Their bodies pressed together. Qin Siyu couldn’t bear it. He straightened his waist to brush Aston, but the moment they touched, the sensation overwhelmed him and he retreated. Seconds later he sought the contact again while kissing him, then withdrew once more.
Aston could bear no more either. When Qin Siyu leaned close again, Aston gripped the muscles of his backside and suddenly pressed him forcefully against himself. Qin Siyu let out an involuntary loud ‘Ah!’
Knowing that being completely naked together was still more than Qin Siyu could accept, Aston hooked his arms under Qin Siyu’s knees and carried him into the bathroom. He twisted the tap, and shower water poured down over them.
Qin Siyu made a soft ‘Mm.’
The stream soaked their shirts, trousers, hair, and skin. They kept entwining their tongues while water ran around their four tightly pressed lips. Their chests were drenched. They embraced, upper bodies together, hands wandering over each other’s bodies, feeling every tightening of the muscles.
Those at the waist, those along the back.
Turning off the water, Aston took a bar of soap and rolled it around in his palms several times. He slipped his fingers inside Qin Siyu’s shirt and touched the back of his neck, then rubbed soap in circles across his entire back.
He moved to his waist, then forward, tracing one collarbone and sliding down to circle over his chest. At last his fingers reached the valleys of Qin Siyu’s abdominal muscles, pressing down and cleaning one section after another.
One entire side of Qin Siyu’s body tingled.
Throughout, they stopped now and then to suck at each other’s lips.
Aston asked, ‘You got newspaper ink on your shirt when you bought the magazine, didn’t you?’
When he reached Qin Siyu’s shoulder, the shirt got in his way.
So Aston unfastened its buttons and removed it.
‘Have you ever used bath salts?’ Aston asked.
‘What are those?’ Qin Siyu replied.
Aston didn’t answer. He put a little bath salt on his fingers and stroked Qin Siyu’s other collarbone, then the chest beneath it.
‘It hurts!’ Qin Siyu protested.
As Aston moved in circles, Qin Siyu felt both tingling and pain. He slid down the tiled wall, but Aston kept hold of him and crouched too, not neglecting the muscles of his chest or abdomen.
Afterward Aston took down the showerhead, turned on the water, and rinsed him.
As the spray struck his chest, Qin Siyu twisted his neck and closed his eyes, his pale throat exposed. He gritted his teeth a little as the water washed him clean.
At last the water stopped and the showerhead was hung back in place. Aston asked, ‘Now your upper body is clean. How does it feel?’
Qin Siyu: ‘…’
He glanced at his own wet trousers, strained tight, then at Aston’s. Finally he raised his gaze to Aston’s eyes and smiled.
Struggling to his feet, he stepped through the water, clasped Aston around the neck, and kissed him.
Aston could no longer restrain himself. As he kissed back, he suddenly lifted one of Qin Siyu’s legs and pinned it against the wall.
Then the other leg.
Qin Siyu’s knees pressed against the wall, his back held there, while Aston pressed close through Qin Siyu’s soaked trousers.
Their necks twined; they rubbed against each other’s ears.
They’d gone too far.
Qin Siyu knew Aston was unfastening the buttons of his expensive suit trousers. He didn’t dare look, so he simply clung to him, lost in the sensation.
Qin Siyu was the first to reach his limit. His waist tightened, and he… released.
But at the sound of Qin Siyu’s cry, Aston did too—
Still holding Qin Siyu’s knees, Aston slowly lowered him. Qin Siyu landed on the floor, panting heavily in the dark.
Aston fastened his trousers, went outside, turned on the light, and returned.
Qin Siyu saw him come back, looked confused for a moment, then raised his eyes toward him. The little mole was reddened again.
His knees were spread, and his trousers were soiled both inside and out: inside by himself, outside by the other man.
Aston took down the showerhead, turned on the hot water, and slowly crouched. He directed the warm spray over his own fluid on the outside of Qin Siyu’s trousers, washing it inward.
Into the fabric, bringing together the substances that the inner and outer layers had kept apart.
With his knees parted, Qin Siyu watched the material on the outside of his trousers slowly seep inward in the running water. His skin below the waist and along his thighs felt warm as the water entered. And there was something else—
Both his legs trembled and didn’t stop for a very long time.
Once it had soaked through, Aston drew Qin Siyu up. Qin Siyu knelt on the floor as well, his legs sticky and his trousers wet. They kissed again.
Both men knelt before each other, embracing and kissing.
I really am beyond saving, Qin Siyu thought.
This kiss was very gentle.
Aston licked him with care. His tongue traced the seam of Qin Siyu’s mouth, lingered in the hollow of his lower lip, teased the little fullness of the upper lip, and outlined the corners of his mouth. He slipped between the lips, gently explored the palate and the corners on either side of the frenulum, and finally encircled Qin Siyu’s tongue, drawing gradually deeper.
The bathroom was warm and short of fresh air, so their breathing grew quicker, each drawing in the breath the other had just exhaled.
They remained kneeling on the floor before one another, kissing for a long time.
Author’s Note: James: ‘I’ve had enough. In this two-man show of yours, every time you want to slap someone, you drag me out again, don’t you?’