Hate, Hate, Love

Mu Qing couldn't do a thing to fight back, his legs trembling in Feng Xin's grip as rough, searing kisses met his lips. No, it's not that he couldn't, it's that he didn't want to. His arms found themselves wrapped around Feng Xin's neck, allowing the kiss to deepen and Feng Xin's tongue to invade his mouth.

But he hated it.

He hated Feng Xin. He hated his lips and tongue. He hated his kiss, his hands as they gripped his thighs. He hated his broad shoulders and strong arms. He hated it. But more than anything, he hated himself for enjoying it.

OR: Mu Qing being in denial that he loves Feng Xin ft. the loss of his virginity.