bound by instinct

chapter 7

Gu Rong stayed still for a long moment, his senses still reeling from everything that had just happened. The heat of Chen Xin's body pressed against him, the slick wetness still clinging to his pants, the taste of Chen Xin's scent on his tongue—it was all too much. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The need to touch, to claim, was unbearable, but he had resisted.

Slowly, carefully, Gu Rong loosened his grip on Chen Xin's waist. He lifted him gently, laying him down on the bed, making sure the sheets covered him before standing. His own body trembled with restraint, the scent of Chen Xin still thick in the air, but he knew he had to leave. If he stayed any longer, he wouldn't be able to hold back.

Gu Rong wet his lips again, the taste of Chen Xin lingering on his tongue as he turned away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The hunger gnawed at him, every instinct screaming at him to return to the bed, but he forced himself to walk away. His steps were heavy, his body filled with tension as he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

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Chen Xin woke to the pale light of morning filtering through the window. His body felt heavy, exhausted, and as his mind slowly cleared, the memories of the previous night came rushing back—every touch, every plea, every desperate moment. His breath caught in his throat, and shame washed over him like a cold wave.

He sat up slowly, the sheets tangled around his legs, his skin still slick with the remnants of his release. Gu Rong was gone. Chen Xin's eyes flicked to the door, but the room was empty, the air still thick with the scent of what had transpired.

Guilt, shame, and regret surged through him in waves, twisting in his chest until it felt like he couldn't breathe. What had he done? How could he have let himself fall apart like that—so desperate, so exposed? His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the memories away, but they clung to him, mocking him.
He had been weak.
He had let himself break, had begged Gu Rong for something he should never have asked for. And Gu Rong—Gu Rong

The room was suffocating. Every shadow seemed to press down on Chen Xin, the weight of the previous night crashing over him in waves. His chest felt tight, each breath shallow and ragged as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. The same hands that had clung to Gu Rong, that had begged and pleaded in a way he never thought possible. The memory of it twisted like a knife in his chest.

His fingers clenched into fists, knuckles white as a tremor ran through him. Shame, guilt, anger—it all churned inside him, leaving him raw, exposed. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable, and now... now it was all he could think about. The way Gu Rong had resisted him, even when Chen Xin had all but thrown himself at him. The way his body had betrayed him, the way he had begged.

Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them back, trying to force the emotion down. He couldn't—wouldn't—let it out. But the pressure inside him built, an unrelenting force he couldn't contain. His chest heaved, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he tried to steady himself, but it was no use.

A broken sob escaped him, and before he knew it, tears streamed down his face, his body trembling as he collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, each one tearing through him like a wound reopened. He hated this—hated how weak he felt, how utterly lost he had become.

He had always been the Sword Douluo, cold, composed, untouchable. But now, he was nothing more than a mess, crumbling under the weight of emotions he had buried for so long. Every tear that fell was a reminder of his failure, his weakness, and it burned.

For what felt like hours, Chen Xin cried, his body shaking as the weight of everything poured out of him. When the tears finally slowed, he was left feeling hollow, empty. The shame still lingered, gnawing at him, but there was nothing left to give. Slowly, he pulled himself together, wiping at his tear-streaked face with trembling hands.
But this would be the last time.
He would never allow himself to break like this again.

Chen Xin stood, his legs unsteady beneath him, and walked to the mirror. His reflection stared back, pale and drawn, but there was a coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. It was the coldness he would need to survive. To protect himself from ever feeling this way again.
The Sword Douluo.

Stoic. Emotionless. Unbreakable.

He straightened his back, his expression hardening as he pushed every shred of vulnerability back behind the wall he had built so carefully. Whatever had happened with Gu Rong, whatever had been broken, would be mended. He would never let his emotions control him again.

Meanwhile, Gu Rong paced in his own quarters, his thoughts a storm of guilt and desire. He couldn't shake the memory of Chen Xin from his mind—the feel of him, the heat of his body, the desperation in his voice. He could still feel him, pressed against him, and the scent of Chen Xin's slick haunted him, lingering on his skin like a brand.

His body ached with unfulfilled desire, but it was the guilt that gnawed at him the hardest. He had let it go too far. He should have stopped it sooner, should have pulled away when Chen Xin had first started pleading. But he hadn't. He had let Chen Xin straddle him, touch him, use him, and now... now he couldn't stop thinking about it. About how much he had wanted to give in, to lose himself in the heat of the moment.

But he hadn't.

He had held back, because he knew that if he had given in, Chen Xin would have hated him. And yet, that didn't make the guilt any easier to bear.

Gu Rong ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath. He couldn't face Chen Xin now, not after what had happened. He didn't trust himself to be near him, not when the memory of last night was still so fresh in his mind, still so present in his body. He had promised to protect Chen Xin, but now, he felt like he had failed him in the worst way.

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