After the Heartthrob Took the Cannon Fodder Script [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 15

Juezhou bit down on the back of Zhou Chenyu’s hand.

His thick, curled eyelashes were dampened by tears, and the color of his earlobes was a vivid, gorgeous crimson.

The game was about to start, and Zhou Chenyu finally withdrew his hand, lightly sniffing it.

“Did you drink milk before bed?” he asked in a tiny, breathy voice.

On the other end, Shi Du thought Zhou Chenyu was speaking to him and asked in confusion, “What?”

Zhou Chenyu: “I’ll take the marksman (ADC) role.”

“Okay,” Shi Du replied, selecting the jungler.

To boost hype, the livestream platform had specifically arranged for the gaming section’s top streamer, Shi Du, to duo with Zhou Chenyu.

The veteran fans in the room all felt that Shi Du’s performance had been poor lately, and he was practically relying on Zhou Chenyu to carry him.

The result of this round was the same as the last: Zhou Chenyu had the highest damage output on the field, while Shi Du was second to last.

“Zhou-ge, I’m sorry.” The youth lowered his head, dejectedly apologizing to Zhou Chenyu.

Zhou Chenyu smiled: “It’s okay.”

Juezhou nestled in his arms, biting his lip and holding back whimpering sounds that resembled acting spoiled.

The scent of milk was too strong. It felt as if one could make him let out a soft groan just by lightly pinching his cheek, or suck out a faint milky taste by biting those fresh red lips.

People with bad tempers are most captivating when they shed tears; hot liquid fell onto the back of Zhou Chenyu’s hand, which the latter lightly licked clean.

At first, Juezhou could still manage to keep his voice down to avoid being heard by the person on the other end of the neural link. Later, it was as if he were engulfed by steam; he became dazed, his nose tip turning red, and he let out small, soft hums.

Zhou Chenyu: “Let’s stop here for today. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

After saying a few words to the audience, Zhou Chenyu shut down the livestream.

Juezhou immediately propped himself up on his legs, his eyes damp as he cursed: “Are you out of your mind?”

Despite the curses, his hand still loosely gripped Zhou Chenyu’s arm. Zhou Chenyu’s pajamas were made of cotton and felt very comfortable to rub against; he allowed Juezhou to nuzzle him without refuting the insults, eventually hooking his arms under Juezhou’s legs to carry him to the bed.

“Have you seen a doctor for this?” He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Juezhou’s ankle and tracing upward along the contours.

This was a setting granted to Juezhou by the original novel; seeing any doctor was useless. This illness was truly too troublesome and different from ordinary skin hunger; the original author seemed to have modified it to a certain extent to make the abuse of the Protagonist Shou more “logical.”

“Why don’t I help you with desensitization therapy?” Zhou Chenyu looked down, staring intently at Juezhou’s protruding ankle bone.

“Does it work?” Juezhou asked, simultaneously consulting the System. By the end of the sentence, because his craving was being filled, the end of his voice trembled slightly.

His biology grades in high school weren’t good, but Zhou Chenyu got full marks every time.

The System checked the data and said hesitantly: [Theoretically, it works. After all, the original author couldn’t write purely from thin air.]

Perhaps because Zhou Chenyu looked too persuasive and his movements were gentle, his words became more convincing: “I don’t know the cause of your illness, it should be psychological. I consulted a psychiatrist; for mental illnesses in the Interstellar Era, desensitization therapy is commonly used.”

“Then… okay.” Juezhou only had a slight understanding of desensitization—it meant constant stimulation, meaning keeping the skin in a state of continuous contact.

But remembering the feeling of being embraced, the spot where Juezhou had just been pinched felt a bit numb. If he couldn’t control his body’s reaction, would Zhou Chenyu think he was a pervert and kick him out?

Zhou Chenyu had already begun taking off his top. Seeing Juezhou motionless for a long time, he looked up: “Well?”

Juezhou felt like something wasn’t quite right.

But thinking carefully, this situation had a hundred benefits and no harms for him; the feeling of “clinging” was truly comfortable. Zhou Chenyu couldn’t use this kind of thing to harm Juezhou, nor could he gain any profit from it.

He slowly lowered his head to unbutton his shirt, tossed it aside, and proactively hugged Zhou Chenyu’s waist.

It was just a light hug.

Juezhou’s fingers felt limp, his eyes were wet and red, and he let out small whimpers while holding Zhou Chenyu. Realizing that large-scale physical contact was so comfortable, he temporarily forgave Zhou Chenyu’s previous transgressions and rubbed back and forth in his arms.

The presence of his trousers became redundant and obvious. He reached out to tug at Zhou Chenyu’s waistband but was held down.

“Don’t move,” Zhou Chenyu said hoarsely.

“Mmm…” Mist rose in his eyes, and Juezhou’s thoughts fell into a dazed chaos. He grabbed Zhou Chenyu’s finger and began to lightly nibble on it.

He didn’t have the strength to use his teeth; he was like a month-old kitten, holding that section of cold white finger and slowly grinding on it.

Even though it was Zhou Chenyu who had bullied Juezhou in front of the livestream camera earlier, he was now acting more upright than anyone. He remained motionless, even helping Juezhou pull up the pants that had slipped to his knees.

If Juezhou had looked up at that moment, he would have noticed Zhou Chenyu’s eyes were slightly dark, with a bottomless gloom in his deep pupils. Even though the room’s lights were bright and brilliant, he looked as if he were hidden in the shadows.

Zhou Chenyu remained sitting upright; this posture helped him hide many unseemly things. It wasn’t until Juezhou was rubbing against him with red-tipped ears and a clouded consciousness—looking like he had inhaled too much catnip—that he held Juezhou by the waist and pulled away: “That’s enough.”

Juezhou looked pathetic right now, a thin layer of sweat covering his snowy, delicate neck, his gaze falling blankly on Zhou Chenyu. His eyes were red, his nose was red, but his gaze was clean and clear—a kind of “pure yet lustful” allure.

Zhou Chenyu watched him quietly for a while, his Adam’s apple bobbing: “Let’s stop here for today.”

Juezhou sniffled and put on his own pajamas.

He heard that the results of the first desensitization session usually aren’t very good; Juezhou wanted to be held more, but after being embraced for so long, it was already quite a transgression. He hoped that after a few more sessions, his skin hunger symptoms would be alleviated.

“Thank you,” Juezhou said.

—The little fool, having been taken advantage of, thanked the person who bullied him with red eyes.

For some reason, Zhou Chenyu’s eyes seemed to grow even darker. He smiled very gently. “Mm. Staying here tonight?”

Juezhou shook his head; he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself and would pounce into Zhou Chenyu’s arms. In the original work, Zhou Chenyu’s setting was “straight-to-gay”—he was straight until he fell for Xie Wenchen, and he still was now.

…Juezhou imagined it: if a man rubbed against his chest asking for hugs, he would definitely chase him away. As a former classmate and arch-rival, Zhou Chenyu was already being very kind to help with the desensitization.

Zhou Chenyu didn’t show any regret. He lowered his head, revealing the smooth and firm contours of his waist and abdomen, his laughter deep and slightly raspy.

Juezhou stepped into his slippers and said “Goodnight” very quickly.

When he returned to his room, the robot vacuum had already shut down automatically due to lack of power, slumped in the corner. Juezhou climbed into bed and realized a long time had passed. He had actually lingered on Zhou Chenyu’s bed for over half an hour.

But it was truly too comfortable; Juezhou, never having experienced such stimulation, let out a sigh.

Rolling around on the bed, Juezhou suddenly froze. He was extremely flexible; lying on his side and sticking out his bottom, he could look back at his own pants. He found a small wet patch on the back of his pants, right where his tailbone would press against.

Juezhou’s face instantly exploded in red, thinking he had rubbed it on himself.

“This, this—what happened?” Juezhou pulled his pants down to his knees and found that his underwear was not wet.

He hadn’t been conscious earlier and couldn’t even remember exactly what happened.

The System, however, remembered: [Host, you just leaned on the Protagonist Top and rubbed against him. The Protagonist Top didn’t touch you; he even helped you pull your pants up.]

So embarrassing. Juezhou buried his face in the quilt and let out several “whimpers.”

Juezhou usually didn’t wake up until 8:00 or 9:00 AM. He climbed out of bed clutching his pillow.

While brushing his teeth, Juezhou discussed with the System; he felt it wasn’t good to call the Protagonist Shou over to bully him right after moving in. He should first memorize Zhou Chenyu’s work schedule and find the perfect timing. That way, he wouldn’t be kicked out by Zhou Chenyu and could still farm a large wave of Oppression Points through the Protagonist Shou.

He lifted his pajama top in front of the mirror and suddenly found a bruise on his waist. It was particularly painful to the touch right at the small of his back. It must have been from Zhou Chenyu’s grip last night.

“How is his strength so great?” Juezhou complained indistinctly with his toothbrush in his mouth.

He left the bedroom and found breakfast kept warm by a constant-temperature device on the table, with a note stuck next to it:

[I’ve gone to work. Remember to eat breakfast. — Zhou.]

Juezhou hadn’t brought his painting tools, so for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. After breakfast, he turned on the TV to catch up on the variety shows Zhou Chenyu had participated in over recent years.

His hair wasn’t combed, with a single curly strand sticking up. He casually draped Zhou Chenyu’s nearby jacket over himself and put on a pair of plain-glass, anti-near-sightedness gold-rimmed glasses.

Back when he lived in a dorm with Zhou Chenyu, Juezhou often wore Zhou Chenyu’s clothes—not because he liked wearing other people’s things, but because he was simply too lazy. His things were always piled together, and by every Friday, his clothes would even spill over onto Zhou Chenyu’s bed, waiting for Jiang Henian to come help him tidy up once a week. In the meantime, it was easier to just borrow Zhou Chenyu’s clothes.

Zhou Chenyu’s frame was larger than Juezhou’s; the jacket that was a perfect fit for him was a bit oversized on Juezhou, making it perfect for warmth. Juezhou hugged his knees, tilting his head to watch the variety show, catching the faint scent of men’s cologne and cigarettes on the jacket.

[System, why do I feel like something is a bit off?] Juezhou suddenly said while watching.

The System scanned his entire body. Juezhou was wearing the youth’s jacket, wearing the youth’s glasses, sitting on the youth’s sofa, and watching the youth’s variety show. There were even marks left by the youth on his waist from last night.

It was as if he were marked from the inside out.

The System, being an AI without human thought, scratched its head: [I don’t know what’s off either.]

[Okay.]

At the filming base.

“Is Zhou-ge in?” A new staff member in charge of props knocked on the door of the exclusive lounge.

Ten seconds later, a response came from inside: “In. Come in.”

The new employee hurriedly carried the props into the room, only daring to steal a glance at the handsome youth resting alone. There was a faint scent of cigarettes in the lounge. The youth held a cigarette between his fingers, his head slightly lowered, his eyelashes and slightly long hair casting a small shadow.

Having just entered the industry, the employee’s knowledge of stars at Zhou Chenyu’s level only came from gossip magazines, so he had always thought Zhou Chenyu was gentle and polite. After actual contact, he discovered that the youth possessed a coldness that soaked into his very bones. Zhou Chenyu loved to smile, but there wasn’t much genuine feeling in those smiles.

The employee finished tidying the props and quickly left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Zhou Chenyu sat up straight, his neck—which had been stiff for too long—letting out a slight creak. His gaze remained fixed on his phone screen.

On the screen was surveillance footage.

In a room with warm yellow wallpaper, a youth with a slender waist was rolling around wrapped in a quilt. The thin quilt outlined rounded curves, and occasionally an exquisite chin would be revealed to the camera.

The well-placed audio equipment could even record the youth’s slightly heavy breathing and light nasal sounds after he fell asleep.

Zhou Chenyu looked down and tapped a few keys; the robot vacuum lying on the floor began to slowly work again. The cigarette butt poked against his arm, leaving a scar; he seemed unable to feel the pain, lightly stroking the back of his phone.