what if that night Gaotu became the slut, Wenlang accused him of??
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*BANQUET NIGHT*
*X HOTEL*
Shen Wenlang was continuously tapping his feet on the floor, impatiently waiting for his secretary to come back.
"What's taking him so long??"
He muttered while checking his watch.
Having enough, he began striding towards washroom. To find Gaotu himself.
The more deeper he went through corridors, the more hotter he felt.
"Is air conditioning, not working??"
He grumbled while loosening his tie.
____________
*Meanwhile with Gaotu*
He had managed to excuse himself with a strained smile and a mumbled excuse about a headache, but the moment door of the main hall clicked shut behind him, the mask shattered.
His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. A wave of heat, so intense it was almost a physical blow, crashed over him.
He staggered, one hand bracing against wall. His vision blurring. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.
He couldn't let HIM see him like this.
The distant sound of approaching footsteps and laughter sent a frantic burst of adrenaline.
He shoved himself off the wall, stumbling blindly down a quieter side corridor. His legs felt like they were made of jelly, his body screaming for release.
Any room.
Just any room.
A door, slightly ajar. He practically fell through it, collapsing into the darkness of what felt like a staffroom.
He fumbled for the light switch, his hand shaking so violently he couldn't find it.
It didn't matter. The darkness was safer. With the last of his strength, he pushed the door shut but the thought of locking it was a distant, fleeting concern, lost in the throbbing need that clouded his mind.
He sank onto a small, lumpy daybed in the corner, his body trembling.
"Suppressants" The thought cut through the fog.
His blurry eyes scanned the room, landing on a small medical rack in the corner. He pushed himself up, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. Just as his fingers reached them, a voice, smooth as poisoned, sliced through the silence.
"Gaotu?"
His blood ran cold, a shock that went through in his veins.
It was him.
He was here.
Gaotu's heart hammered against his ribs. He held his breath, every muscle freezing.
Don't find me, please don't find me. Not like this.
He scrambled back, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. He ducked behind the tall metal rack, his body a tight knot of terror and need. The door swung open.
"Gaotu? R U in here?" Wenlang's voice was low, a little slurred. He was drunk.
He stepped into the room, the door swinging shut behind him, plunging them both into near-total darkness.
Gaotu could only make out his silhouette as he moved.
"I saw u leave, u looked unwell."
He was getting closer. Gaotu could smell him now, the familiar scent of iris and whiskey, intermingled with the sharp, commanding musk of an Alpha. It was intoxicating. Torturous. His own scent, laced with the sweet, cloying desperation of his heat, was surely filling the room.
