As if Burned

Except for tracing the young man's lips with her tongue in particular, Yu Xi did not actively engage in any more in-depth movements beyond that.

The touch of the young woman's lips on his is unexpectedly so light and delicate, in spite of the large force that she put forth to drag his body down from a standing position, to the point that it is almost as if he had simply been dreaming of it.

Yet the foreign warmth is undeniable.

Yet the foreign warmth said otherwise: the pliant indent of her bottom lip, every bit as soft as he had pictured it to be, every bit as soft as it had been last night; the lovely sweetness of her breath; the gentle movement of her lips beneath his own—all of these are all things that are far too beautiful to have come straight out of his own thoughts.

He was not creative nor imaginative enough to create something so real like this with his mind alone.

And then it was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

Like a dream.