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(1)
The auditorium buzzed with the low hum of conversation before the keynote address. Spotlights painted the stage a sterile white, too harsh, too clinical, but exactly the kind of place Sheng Shaoyou loved. He adjusted his cuffs, strode up to the podium, and smiled at the crowd as though they were all old friends.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, voice smooth, carrying just the right mix of charm and arrogance, “we stand at the cusp of rewriting recovery times for pheromone gland cancer. My team’s latest compound…well, let’s just say forty percent faster outcomes are no longer a dream.”
A murmur rippled through the audience. Shaoyou thrived on that sound. He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And for those of you betting against me, better start cashing out.”
The crowd laughed, but the warmth in the room fractured when a voice cut in, crisp and cold.
“Forty percent?”
People shifted as a man in the front row rose to his feet. Shen Wenlang. Impeccably dressed in slate-gray, expression neutral, and eyes unreadable.
Shaoyou’s smile faltered for half a second before sharpening into something predatory.
“Yes, Mr.Shen?” he drawled. “A problem?”
Wenlang adjusted his cufflinks before speaking. “Not a problem. Unless, of course, you’ve bypassed the inconvenient matter of control trials. Again.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the audience. Shaoyou felt his blood heat, but not entirely with anger. This man was the only person who kept things interesting and pushed Shaoyou to think harder, plan better, and make ripples in the business world.
He leaned against the podium. “Coming from the man whose last project has been stuck in phase two for, what is it now, almost two years? I’ll take that as applause.”
The audience laughed again, louder this time, but Shaoyou wasn’t watching them. He was watching Wenlang, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked, and stood with the composure of a man trying his hardest not to lose his temper. Their eyes locked, the faint scent of cool iris drifting across the space between them, meeting the heavier bite of rum and orange blossoms that clung to Shaoyou’s skin.
He shouldn’t have noticed, but he did anyway.
Wenlang inclined his head, lips curling the barest fraction. “Bold claims from a man whose research collapses under scrutiny. Let’s hope, for your sake, that this time it doesn’t.”
He sat down smoothly, as if the exchange hadn’t just set the room alight.
Shaoyou cleared his throat and continued his presentation, voice steady and smile dazzling, but every word he spoke after that was for Wenlang, and Wenlang alone.
(2)
The ballroom glittered under chandeliers, every surface polished to reflect wealth and power. Waiters in white gloves drifted among the crowd, carrying trays of champagne, as laughter rose and fell like waves. These annual parties were not meant for genuine celebration. It was a stage, a battlefield of mind games.
Sheng Shaoyou played his part to perfection. He stood at the bar, jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder, tie long since discarded, and hair artfully mussed. Investors loved him this way. Reckless, brilliant, and untouchable. He laughed too loudly at some joke an older CEO had told him, flashed his teeth, and soaked in the attention.
“Underdressed, aren’t you?”
The voice at his side cut through the noise like glass breaking.
Shaoyou turned his head and, of course, there was Shen Wenlang. Not a hair out of place, midnight-black suit pressed within an inch of its life, tie knotted so tightly it was almost choking him. His glass of champagne caught the light, golden and precise, just like him.
Shaoyou smirked. “I was going to ask why you’re so overdressed. Tell me, Wenlang, do you polish your shoes twice a day, or do they just come that shiny?”
Wenlang sipped his drink, unfazed. “Some of us believe professionalism is not optional.” His gaze flicked over Shaoyou’s open collar and the curve of his throat. “But then again, you’ve always preferred to sell spectacle over science.”
Shaoyou leaned against the bar, closer than he needed to be. The air between them grew taut, heavy with pheromones. “Spectacle sells,” he murmured. “Not everyone enjoys being the world’s most boring man.”
A faint line appeared between Wenlang’s brows, the smallest crack in his perfect composure. “And yet,” he said, voice low, “boring men don’t tend to run companies that outpace yours in three consecutive quarters.”
Shaoyou barked a laugh, startling the bartender polishing glasses nearby. He leaned in, breath grazing Wenlang’s ear. “Careful. Sounds almost like you’re keeping count.”
For the first time that evening, Wenlang’s eyes snapped to his, sharp and unguarded. Shaoyou froze, his pulse stuttering. Wenlang’s gaze was steady and calculating, but underneath, something flickered. Something dangerously close to interest.
It lasted only a heartbeat before Wenlang turned away, addressing a passing investor with smooth courtesy.
But Shaoyou had caught that flicker.
And when he turned back to his drink, grinning into the rim of his glass, the taste of victory felt strangely hollow.
(3)
Shaoyou hated this. His board pushed for a collaboration with Wenlang’s company, seeing as they were the two biggest and most successful pharma companies, which is why Shaoyou was here at Wenlang’s lab when he could have been spending time with a pretty omega.
The air inside Shen Wenlang’s private lab was sterile but spoke of order and perfection. Not a file was out of place, not a counter marred by fingerprints. The scent of disinfectant clung faintly to the walls, but beneath it, Shaoyou caught the cool, unmistakable note of iris. Sharp and elegant, just like its owner.
“Try not to break anything,” Wenlang said dryly as he led him past a glass partition. His tone suggested he was escorting a wild animal through a museum rather than a rival CEO through a cutting-edge facility.
Shaoyou shoved his hands into his pockets and whistled. “Relax. I’ll try not to steal your toys. No promises, though, some of these look… fun.”
“Fun,” Wenlang repeated, lips curving faintly as if the word offended him. “That’s not exactly the point of multi-million-dollar biotech equipment.”
Shaoyou smirked, leaning casually against a workstation. “Depends who you ask.” He tilted his head, scanning the shelves of meticulously labeled vials, the tidy stacks of research reports. He hated to admit it, out loud or to himself, but the precision was impressive.
And Wenlang knew it.
“You might learn something,” Wenlang said smoothly, sliding a tablet into Shaoyou’s hand. His fingers brushed Shaoyou’s knuckles, light and incidental, but enough to send a crackle of something sharp through the air. Both men froze.
Shaoyou’s grin faltered for a split second. Wenlang’s composure didn’t break, but Shaoyou caught the subtle tightening at the corners of his eyes. The scents between them surged, rum and orange blossoms thickening, iris as sharp as a knife’s edge.
He cleared his throat, flipping through the files on the tablet as if nothing had happened. “Well, well. Thorough. Who knew you were hiding all this behind your stiff suits and scowls?”
“Thoroughness keeps people alive,” Wenlang replied, voice low. “A concept I’m not sure you’re familiar with.”
Shaoyou’s grin returned, wider, deliberately mocking. “Ah, there it is. The lecture. I was starting to think you might actually enjoy showing me around.”
Wenlang’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
And yet, as they walked deeper into the lab, side by side, their shoulders nearly brushing, Shaoyou couldn’t shake the feeling that Wenlang had wanted him here. That under all the disdain, there was something else—respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
But if it was curiosity, it was a dangerous kind.
(4)
The conference hall was buzzing even before the panel began. Journalists jockeyed for position at the front, cameras ready. The Bio-Pharm World Forum drew international attention every year, but this panel was already the headline.
Because Sheng Shaoyou and Shen Wenlang were seated side by side.
Shaoyou lounged in his chair, jacket open, shirt collar undone, the very picture of ease. He toyed with the microphone as though he might flick it away at any moment, smirk firmly in place. Wenlang, in contrast, sat with his back straight, suit immaculate, hands folded neatly on the table.
The moderator cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, the question before us is the future of genetic therapy. Mr. Sheng, perhaps you’d like to start—”
“Gladly,” Shaoyou interrupted, leaning forward. His voice carried easily, smooth and edged with arrogance. “The future belongs to those willing to take risks. Playing it safe will only keep us ten years behind where we should be.”
Wenlang didn’t so much as blink. “Risks,” he said, his tone cutting through the room like a scalpel. “An elegant word for recklessness. But recklessness costs lives. Patients are not pawns in your endless chase for attention.”
Shaoyou’s grin only widened.
“Attention?” he echoed, tilting his head. “Tell me, Wenlang, are you speaking from genuine concern, or are you bitter that no one remembers a man who plays it too safe?”
The crowd tittered nervously. The moderator tried to interject, but the duel was already underway.
Wenlang turned his head slowly, finally meeting Shaoyou’s gaze. His voice was calm, measured, but the heat beneath it was unmistakable. “Better forgotten than a fraud.”
Shaoyou leaned in, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed, his voice low but still caught by the mic. “You’d know if I were a fraud, wouldn’t you? You’ve been watching me long enough.”
For the briefest second, Wenlang’s composure cracked. His pupils dilated, and his lips pressed tighter. And the audience noticed.
On the livestream chat, comments flooded in
“Why does this feel like sexual tension?”
“Are they going to fight or kiss?”
“Rivals to lovers speedrun???”
The moderator managed to drag the panel back on track, but the damage was done. For the rest of the debate, every word they exchanged dripped with the kind of tension that no one could unsee.
Later, Shaoyou found Wenlang at the hotel bar, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, a glass of whiskey in hand. He slid into the stool beside him without asking.
“Can’t stop thinking about me, huh?” Shaoyou murmured.
Wenlang didn’t look up. “You’re impossible to ignore.”
The words should have been venom. Instead, they sounded like admission.
And for once, Shaoyou had nothing clever to say.
(5)
It was almost midnight when Sheng Shaoyou shoved the stairwell door open and stepped onto the hospital rooftop. The city stretched out below him, all glass and neon, the air thick with summer heat. He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled, trying to scrub the scent of antiseptic from his lungs.
He hadn’t planned on seeing Wenlang tonight. Hell, he hadn’t even realised Wenlang was in the same building. But when the door creaked open again, and that familiar iris scent swept across the night air, Shaoyou swore under his breath.
“Of all the roofs in all the city,” he muttered, not bothering to turn. “You had to be here.”
Wenlang’s voice came calm and tired, not sharp for once. “I could say the same of you.” His footsteps approached, steady, until he was standing a few feet away. He loosened his tie, let it dangle from his fingers. The sight was jarring. Wenlang undone, if only slightly.
They stood in silence, the city hum filling the gap. Both of them had been inside the ICU ward for hours. Shaoyou visiting his father, and Wenlang checking on his assistant’s sister, whom he supported quietly. Neither of them had mentioned it, but the exhaustion clung to their shoulders the same way.
Shaoyou broke first. “Didn’t think you cared about people outside your boardroom spreadsheets.”
Wenlang’s jaw tightened. “Not everything needs to be advertised to be real.”
That stung more than it should have. Shaoyou stepped closer, eyes flashing. “Careful, Wenlang. You almost sounded human for a second.”
Wenlang turned to face him fully, the rooftop lights painting sharp angles across his cheekbones. “And you,” he said quietly, “hide behind jokes because you’re afraid someone might see the parts of you that still care.”
Shaoyou’s breath caught, irritation rising like fire. He moved closer again, close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough that rum and orange blossoms curled thick around Wenlang’s iris.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he bit out.
Wenlang’s eyes didn’t waver. “I know enough.”
The silence stretched, taut and unbearable. Then Shaoyou shoved him, hard, against the low brick wall of the roof. Wenlang’s hand shot up, fisting in Shaoyou’s shirt, dragging him forward. Their foreheads knocked together.
“You—” Shaoyou growled.
“You,” Wenlang snapped back.
And then it broke. The fight, the tension, the years of unspoken things. Shaoyou crushed their mouths together in a kiss that was all teeth and fury. Wenlang answered with equal force, pulling him closer, bruising, breath ragged. Their scents tangled, burning the night air until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
When they tore apart, gasping, Wenlang’s grip still anchoring him in place, Shaoyou’s laugh came low and hoarse.
“This doesn’t change anything.”
Wenlang’s answering smile was sharp and dangerous. “No,” he murmured. “It changes everything.”
(+1)
The air between them crackled with unspent frustration and desire. Shaoyou’s heart raced, the kiss still burning on his lips as he pulled back slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. “So, what now, Wenlang? We just kiss and then what?”
Wenlang’s grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him closer again. “I think it’s time we find out who really runs this game.”
A smirk curled on Shaoyou’s lips as he leaned in, brushing their foreheads together. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
Wenlang’s eyes darkened, the cool composure melting away, replaced with something raw and hungry. “I’ve never backed down from a challenge.”
With a swift motion, Shaoyou spun them around, pressing Wenlang against the wall, his body a solid weight against him. The city lights flickered in the distance, but here, on this rooftop, it was just the two of them.
“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Shaoyou taunted, his breath hot against Wenlang’s ear. He pressed against him, their bodies fitting together perfectly, a clash of heat and cool precision.
Wenlang responded by tilting his head, exposing more of that delicate skin Shaoyou had longed to taste. “You talk a big game. Prove it.”
With a growl, Shaoyou captured Wenlang’s lips again, more forcefully this time, his hands roaming down to grip Wenlang’s hips. He could feel the shiver that ran through Wenlang as he pressed him against the wall, the moment thrillingly dangerous.
Shaoyou’s grin was predatory. “Beg for it.”
The challenge was met with a tense silence, but Wenlang’s resolve was stronger than Shaoyou anticipated. “I won’t beg,” he said, voice steady but edged with desire.
“Then I guess you’ll just have to watch,” Shaoyou teased, pulling back a fraction to give Wenlang a view of the city spread out beneath them, and himself standing there, the tent in his pants unmistakeable.
Wenlang’s composure shattered in an instant, frustration boiling over. “You’d better not underestimate me.”
Shaoyou relished the spark of defiance in Wenlang’s eyes. In one swift movement, he captured Wenlang’s wrists, pinning them above his head against the cold brick. “You think I’m underestimating you?”
Wenlang’s breath quickened as Shaoyou leaned in, his body pressing into Wenlang’s, the heat radiating between them. “Then let’s see how you take it.”
With that, Shaoyou released Wenlang’s wrists, hands roaming down to the front of his trousers, fingers deftly undoing the buttons. Wenlang gasped, the sound caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation.
Shaoyou’s fingers teased over the outline of Wenlang’s arousal, the heat radiating from him intoxicating. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against Wenlang’s neck, where the scent of iris intensified, mingling with the sharp tang of anticipation. “You’ve always been so composed. Let’s see how well you hold it together.”
Wenlang inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat as Shaoyou’s fingers slipped inside, teasing over the fabric. “I won’t break that easily,” Wenlang managed, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
“We’ll see,” Shaoyou murmured, his voice a low growl of delight. He pulled back just enough to meet Wenlang’s gaze, eyes flashing with mischief. Then, with a swift motion, he pushed Wenlang’s pants down, exposing him completely.
Wenlang’s breath caught, a mix of surprise and desire flickering across his features. “Shaoyou—”
“Shh,” Shaoyou silenced him with a finger over his lips, his other hand tracing the length of Wenlang’s arousal, enjoying the way Wenlang’s body responded beneath his touch. “Just enjoy it.”
With that, he dropped to his knees, the coolness of the rooftop contrasting sharply with the heat emanating from Wenlang’s body. Shaoyou looked up, locking eyes with Wenlang as he wrapped his lips around the tip, teasing, swirling his tongue in slow, deliberate circles.
Wenlang gasped, his fingers tangling in Shaoyou’s hair, though he fought against the impulse to push him further. “This isn’t fair,” he murmured, voice strained yet filled with a tantalising edge.
Shaoyou only smiled against him, taking him deeper into his mouth, savouring the weight and taste of Wenlang’s dick on his tongue. Wenlang’s breathing quickened, the cool, collected demeanour beginning to slip as Shaoyou worked his magic.
“God, Shaoyou,” Wenlang hissed, eyes fluttering open and closed as he fought to maintain his composure, each flick of Shaoyou’s tongue driving him closer to the edge. “You’re going to pay for this.”
“Is that a promise?” Shaoyou teased, pulling back just enough to drive Wenlang mad with anticipation. He could feel the urgency in Wenlang’s grip, the way his body was begging for more.
“Don’t stop,” Wenlang breathed, voice a mix of desperation and command. “I swear—”
Shaoyou, spurred on by Wenlang's desperate plea, intensified his efforts. He took Wenlang deeper, his head bobbing with a rhythm that had Wenlang's hips bucking forward, seeking more.
Wenlang's grip tightened in Shaoyou's hair, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control. But Shaoyou could feel the moment Wenlang snapped, his hips thrusting forward, a low groan escaping his lips as he released down Shaoyou’s throat. Shaoyou pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he looked up at Wenlang, his eyes glazed with need.
"Not so composed now, are you?" Shaoyou taunted, standing up and capturing Wenlang's lips in a fierce kiss. Wenlang could taste himself on Shaoyou's tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through him.
Shaoyou's hands roamed over Wenlang's body, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He took a moment to admire the lean muscles and the smooth skin before leaning in to bite gently at Wenlang's collarbone. Wenlang's breath hitched, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.
Shaoyou took the opportunity to spin Wenlang around, pressing him against the wall, his body covering Wenlang's from behind. He ground his hips against Wenlang's ass, his cock hard and insistent. Wenlang let out a low moan, pushing back against him, seeking more friction.
Shaoyou reached around, his fingers wrapping around Wenlang's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Wenlang's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his body trembling with need. Shaoyou leaned in, his breath hot against Wenlang's ear.
"Is this what you want, Wenlang?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to fuck you right here, against this wall?"
Wenlang's response was a low groan, his body pushing back against Shaoyou's, begging for more. Shaoyou smiled, a feral grin, as he undid his own pants, freeing his cock. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of lube he always had with him, tearing it open with his teeth.
He slicked his fingers, sliding them between Wenlang's cheeks, teasing at his entrance. Wenlang's body tensed for a moment before melting into the touch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Shaoyou worked him open, his fingers scissoring, stretching, until Wenlang was a panting, desperate mess.
Then, with a swift, sure movement, Shaoyou lined up and pushed into Wenlang, a low groan escaping his lips as Wenlang's tight heat enveloped him. Wenlang's hands scrabbled at the wall, his body stretching to accommodate Shaoyou, the burn intense but so, so good.
Shaoyou started to move, his hips snapping forward, his cock driving deep into Wenlang. Their breaths came in sync, harsh and ragged, their bodies moving together in a brutal, desperate dance.
Shaoyou's hand snaked around, wrapping around Wenlang's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Wenlang's body tensed, his breath hitching, and Shaoyou knew he was close. He leaned in, his teeth finding Wenlang's shoulder, biting down as he drove into him, hard and deep.
Wenlang came with a cry, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing in Shaoyou's hand. Shaoyou followed him over the edge, his body shaking with the force of his release, his cock pulsing deep inside Wenlang.
They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Then Shaoyou pulled out, a soft, satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he turned Wenlang around, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
"Well," Shaoyou murmured, pulling back just enough to meet Wenlang's eyes. "That was certainly one way to end the night."
Wenlang’s breath still came in sharp gasps, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “You think you can just take without giving back?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, filled with a newfound confidence.
Shaoyou’s brow arched, curiosity piqued. “You want a turn, then?”
Wenlang stepped back, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “I’m not one to back down from a challenge, remember?” He reached between them, fingers wrapping around Shaoyou’s cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Oh,” Shaoyou breathed, his body responding eagerly to Wenlang’s touch.
Wenlang’s grip tightened, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against Shaoyou’s ear. “Get ready,” he murmured, his voice a sultry whisper. “I’m going to show you just how well I can keep up.”
Wenlang turned Shaoyou around, pushing him against the wall. Shaoyou could feel the coolness of the brick against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Wenlang’s body behind him. Wenlang’s hands found Shaoyou’s hips, steadying him as he pressed against him, his breath warm against Shaoyou’s neck.
“Trust me,” Wenlang said, his voice smooth and commanding. “You’re going to love this.”
Shaoyou felt a rush of anticipation as Wenlang positioned himself, slicking his fingers with the remnants of the lube. He could feel Wenlang’s breath against his skin, their bodies close, electric with tension.
“Ready?” Wenlang asked, a hint of challenge lacing his tone.
“Always,” Shaoyou replied, his heart racing.
Wenlang pressed in slowly, his grip firm as he entered Shaoyou, filling him with a deliberate slowness that made Shaoyou gasp. The sensation was intense, and he let out a low groan, pushing back to meet Wenlang’s thrusts.
“Good,” Wenlang murmured, his voice a low growl. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Shaoyou breathed, surrendering to the feeling as Wenlang found a rhythm, thrusting deeper with each movement. The building heat between them was intoxicating, each push and pull driving them closer to the edge.
Wenlang leaned over Shaoyou, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear, his breath hot and tantalising. “You’re so tight,” he growled, his pace quickening, each thrust punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin.
Shaoyou’s fingers curled into the wall, his body arching back against Wenlang, seeking more with every thrust. “Harder,” he gasped, the pleasure coursing through him as Wenlang claimed him, the power dynamic shifting with each stroke.
Wenlang’s grip on Shaoyou tightened, his thrusts becoming more demanding, more urgent. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To be taken?”
“Yes,” Shaoyou replied, breathless, the heat pooling deep within him, pushing him closer to his release.
“Then let go,” Wenlang commanded, his voice a mix of authority and desire.
With a final thrust, Shaoyou’s body tightened around Wenlang, the pleasure crashing over him in waves as he came, calling out Wenlang’s name. The sensation sent Wenlang spiralling over the edge alongside him, filling Shaoyou with a deep, satisfying warmth.
They stayed pressed against each other for a moment, breathless and spent, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Finally, Wenlang pulled back, a satisfied smile softening his features as he looked down at Shaoyou.
“Now that was a turn worth taking,” he said, brushing a thumb across Shaoyou’s cheek.
Shaoyou chuckled, still catching his breath. “I think we’ll have to take turns more often.”
Wenlang raised an eyebrow, an enticing challenge glimmering in his eyes. “Oh, I plan to.”