Axolotl Translations

The heavy curtains extinguished every last sliver of light. Ruan Zhao’s world turned pitch black—his vision useless. All he could register was the large, firm hand on his waist, kneading with a strange, aimless pressure.

His legs and waist went weak, and he clung to Qi Xingchen’s arm, desperate to stay upright. Deprived of sight, every other sense sharpened to an unbearable degree. A sudden, quickening breath filled the air, shallow and uneven.

Qi Xingchen’s fingers lightly pinched his chin, his thumb teasing the soft, parted edges of his lips. Trapped in the darkness, Ruan Zhao had no choice but to tilt his head back in surrender.

Then, a voice, calm and cold, cut through the silence. “Am I your dog? Something you summon and dismiss at will? Want me one moment, reject me the next… Do you think playing with me is amusing?”

Ruan Zhao frowned. “But you took my money. That means you have to do what I say.”

Qi Xingchen gave a low chuckle, as if the statement genuinely entertained him. Ruan Zhao’s face flushed. “…What are you laughing at?”

Qi Xingchen didn’t answer immediately. His tone turned unreadable. “Have you ever actually listened to a word I’ve said?”

“What…?”

“Do you remember what I told you before? That when you ask a man for his pheromones… it’s the same as extending a very particular kind of invitation.”

Those last three words were whispered directly against his ear. Warm breath ghosted over his sensitive skin, and his entire ear burned scarlet. Qi Xingchen’s voice dropped an octave. “You can’t expect me to have endless self-control… to pretend I don’t understand exactly what you’re implying.”

“You know, Ruan Zhao… I like you.”

“Every word you say affects me. Even when you don’t mean to—even when there’s no hidden intention—I still can’t help but react…”

“Zhaozhao… this is all your fault.”

A sharp nip landed on his ear, and Ruan Zhao flinched. The man’s teeth grazed his earlobe, biting down on the softest part—just enough to tug, to sting ever so slightly. His body trembled, and a soft sound escaped his throat.

Qi Xingchen paused. Perhaps he thought he had hurt him, because the next moment, his tongue flicked over the same spot, soothing it before finally letting go.

Ruan Zhao pressed a hand against his chest, forcing some space between them. His voice carried a clear warning. “Talk if you want—but no biting.”

Qi Xingchen’s voice was cool. “No biting? Then licking is fine, right?”

Ruan Zhao snapped. “What are you, a dog?! No licking either!”

Qi Xingchen exhaled, his tone low and unreadable. “You really think… after all this, I’ll still listen to you?”

Ruan Zhao, still indignant, didn’t back down. “This isn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Why do you think I keep asking for your pheromones? It’s because every time I need them, I can’t even smell you.” His frustration built. “All those Alpha pheromones mixing together—it’s suffocating. I just wanted yours to block them out, to make it a little easier to breathe. It’s not like I did something horrible. What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re the one with no self-control. Just a few words and you react, and now you’re blaming me?”

Qi Xingchen’s gaze sharpened. “So by your logic… does that mean I can ask for your pheromones anytime, anywhere?”

Ruan Zhao froze. He had walked straight into his own logical trap. If he argued now, he’d contradict himself, losing his leverage to blame Qi Xingchen. He had no choice but to press on. “O-Of course you can. I’m not as petty as you.”

A soft tearing sound broke the silence.

Rip.

Qi Xingchen had pulled off his scent-blocking patch. The faint fragrance of lilies seeped into the air, a whisper at first, barely noticeable. Then, his calloused fingers pressed lightly against the gland on Ruan Zhao’s neck. The scent deepened instantly, thicker, sweeter, filling the entire room.

“So sweet.” Qi Xingchen’s voice was hoarse. “Zhaozhao… are you made of sugar? Why are you so sweet?”

Panic flashed across Ruan Zhao’s face. He hadn’t expected Qi Xingchen to rip the patch off like that. He reached out blindly, grasping for Qi Xingchen’s hand, trying to snatch the discarded patch back.

Qi Xingchen opened his palm, looking amused. “I already threw it away.” Then, with a lazy grin, he added, “Zhaozhao is so much more generous than me. So, of course, you’ll let me take my time, right?”

Ruan Zhao: “……?” He had never so clearly understood the meaning of digging his own grave.

The air felt charged, heavy. And then, Qi Xingchen moved closer. Like a hunter closing in on its prey, he pressed his nose against the back of Ruan Zhao’s neck.

The sweet, cloying scent filled Qi Xingchen’s lungs, thick and intoxicating, and his breath grew heavier. Ruan Zhao’s entire body trembled, his eyes rimmed bright red. The stimulation was overwhelming.

He wasn’t in heat, so his mind remained clear, acutely aware of Qi Xingchen’s hot breath spilling over the sensitive gland at the base of his neck. Scalding. Overwhelming. Suffocating.

A deep, instinctive urge to flee surged through him. He wanted to run, but the door was locked. Without the key, there was no escape. His legs felt like jelly, his entire body shaking so violently that, without Qi Xingchen’s arm supporting him, he would have collapsed. Even if he desired to escape, he was physically incapable.

Ruan Zhao sniffled, his small nose twitching. Amidst the overwhelming lily fragrance, he caught a faint trace of mint—Qi Xingchen’s scent. He had claimed he didn’t want it, but now that it permeated the air, his body reacted on its own, his emotions spiking uncontrollably. His pupils tightened slightly.

“Zhaozhao, you’re amazing.” Qi Xingchen’s fingers circled lazily around the gland at his nape, as if coaxing out even more of the intoxicating scent. “You’ve drawn out all of my pheromones too.”

“A scent only you can smell—meant just for you. We were born for each other.”

Ruan Zhao’s face flushed red as he snapped, “Nonsense.” Who was a perfect match with him? Shameless.

……

Qi Xingchen might have seemed dangerous—always stealing kisses, sneaking licks, pulling him into his arms when he wasn’t paying attention. But he never crossed the line.

His gaze lingered on Ruan Zhao’s rosy lips, eyes dark with hunger, his Adam’s apple bobbing—like he was barely restraining himself, like he might lose control in the very next second. Like a predator about to devour its prey. His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, fighting back the overwhelming urge.

In the end, he still asked—obediently, carefully—for permission. “Can I kiss you?”

As time passed, Ruan Zhao’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. He could just barely make out the vague outline of the person in front of him. But he didn’t respond right away.

Qi Xingchen didn’t move either. He just stood there, breath growing more erratic, eyes growing deeper, as if struggling to suppress something dangerous. And yet—even now—he still didn’t kiss him outright.

Ruan Zhao let out a soft scoff. He had found the man’s weakness. “Just now, you spoke so righteously—about seduction, about invitations, acting as if I’ve been toying with your feelings, treating you horribly, refusing to take responsibility…”

“You even said you’d never follow my orders again. And yet—”

“You don’t even dare to kiss me.” His lips curled slightly. “Guess you’re all bark, no bite.”

Qi Xingchen: “…”

At that moment, Ruan Zhao finally felt like he had regained control of the situation. He grabbed Qi Xingchen’s shirt and yanked him down, then kissed him.

The first attempt completely missed—his lips landed on Qi Xingchen’s chin instead. And because he had used too much force, his teeth bumped against his lips, sending a sharp sting through his mouth. Ruan Zhao winced, hissing in pain.

“Can’t you lower your head a little? Didn’t you see I was trying to kiss you?” Even though he was the one who miscalculated the angle—he was the one who moved too roughly—he still found a way to blame Qi Xingchen for not lowering his head in time.

Qi Xingchen took a second to process. Only when Ruan Zhao tugged at his collar again did he finally lean down.

Ruan Zhao’s night vision was terrible. Afraid of missing a second time, he carefully traced his fingertips along Qi Xingchen’s face, searching for his lips. Once he found them, he stood on his toes and kissed him.

Qi Xingchen froze—completely stunned by Ruan Zhao’s sudden initiative. He was motionless, like a computer that had just crashed—as if his entire system had shut down from sheer shock.

Ruan Zhao thought back to how Qi Xingchen had kissed him before. Right—he licked first. Like tasting jelly, he stuck out the tip of his tongue, carefully licking Qi Xingchen’s lips, coating them with a soft, dewy sheen.

Then what? Right—he bit after. So he did the same. A small, experimental bite, leaving behind a faint mark—one that belonged only to him.

That should be enough, right?

He really was a genius. Even something like kissing—he picked it up so fast. Satisfied, Ruan Zhao took a half-step back, ending the brief kiss.

But in the very next second—he was pulled back in. Soft lips pressed firmly against his once more, sealing together perfectly, leaving no space between them. Ruan Zhao’s breath hitched.

“You—”

The moment he opened his mouth, a hot tongue slipped inside.

……

The cramped space filled with the sound of ragged breathing and wet, intimate noises.

Qi Xingchen kissed hungrily, like he was devouring him. Licking, biting, sucking—treating him like a piece of candy he refused to let go of. His tongue tangled with Ruan Zhao’s, coaxing, pulling, taking. He swallowed every breath, every shiver, every drop of him. His rough tongue swept across the sensitive flesh deep inside Ruan Zhao’s mouth, leaving behind a burning trail.

Ruan Zhao couldn’t take it. It was too much—too intense. He tried to pull away, to breathe, to slow down. But Qi Xingchen wouldn’t let him. One arm locked around his waist. The other pressed against the back of his head, leaving him no escape. He could only endure it.

This kiss—like a storm, wild and relentless—overpowered him completely.

……

No one knew how long had passed. By the time Qi Xingchen finally let go, Ruan Zhao was dazed.

His lips were red and swollen, plump from all the biting and sucking. It looked like even the lightest touch might press out something sweet.

The skin around his lips was flushed pink, raw from friction, tingling with a dull ache every time he exhaled. It was obvious—Qi Xingchen had kissed him with everything he had.

Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between them. Qi Xingchen’s voice was low and hoarse. “Zhaozhao, aren’t we meant to be?”

Ruan Zhao’s watery eyes glared at him fiercely. Without hesitation, he spat out his answer. “No—”

“Mmph—”

Before he could even finish, a firm hand grabbed his chin—and he was kissed again.

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