After Alpha Discovered Pheromone Hunger - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 — “Unbutton Me… Please Punish Me”

Hua Che served the wine gracefully, every motion fluid and practiced.

This was the finest wine Ling Pavilion had to offer—reserved only for VIPs who paid top price. Its rich fragrance lingered in the air, turning the room heavy with intoxicating warmth, like the first hint of summer heat clinging to the skin.

After pouring a glass for himself, Hua Che rose slightly and leaned forward to pour for Pei Yu.

The sheer fabric of his robe shifted with his movement, cascading gently and revealing the elegant lines of his chest—suggestive without being blatant, offering just enough to spark the imagination.

As he lifted his arm, the backlight poured through the gauze, outlining the curves of his lithe frame.

Once the glasses were filled, Hua Che sat back down, his posture composed and alluring.

He lifted his glass with a soft smile and asked, “Shall we drink?”

Pei Yu clinked his glass politely, his glass slightly lower in deference, and drank in one smooth motion.

The cold sake cooled the dryness in his throat, though the heat in the room remained.

Hua Che tilted his head, licking the remnants of wine from his fingers before finishing the rest in one effortless tilt.

He reached for the wine jug again, but Pei Yu gently stopped him with a hand.

“You’ve had enough for tonight, haven’t you?” Pei Yu’s voice was low and warm, carefully measured. “Flushed cheeks are a sign of slowed alcohol metabolism. No need to keep drinking—it’s not good for you.”

That soft, deliberate tone carried a kind of intimacy. It landed heavy in the dim room.

Hua Che raised a brow in mild surprise. He touched the back of his hand to his warm face, then smirked. “You think I’m flushed from drinking? I don’t blush from alcohol.”

He didn’t say what was causing the heat in his cheeks.

He left the silence open—for imagination to fill.

His fingers idly traced the rim of his glass as he asked, playfully, “If we’re not going to drink… then what would you like to do, dear guest? Care for a game?”

Pei Yu’s voice rasped slightly, lower than before. “Sure.”

The fox’s smile deepened. He pulled a clean glass from a tray beside him and placed it on the table between them. “A simple game,” he said. “We take turns tapping the glass. The moment one of us removes it, the other has to slap the table.”

He demonstrated with a quick knock of his fingers.

Pei Yu nodded. “Got it.”

“Usually the loser drinks,” Hua Che said, eyes glinting. “But since you’re not interested in alcohol tonight, let’s raise the stakes.”

He leaned forward just slightly, his voice light and teasing. “The winner gets to remove one item of the loser’s clothing. Personally.”

Pei Yu’s gaze flickered, but he answered without hesitation. “Fine.”

The rhythm of the game picked up quickly. Their hands moved in tandem, tapping, pausing, reaching—the glass was passed, taken, slammed. Focused, competitive, almost childlike in their intensity.

Neither backed down.

Hua Che leaned closer, his fox tail swaying with barely restrained glee, laughter dancing in his eyes. He was quick, smooth, almost instinctive—like he’d played this dozens of times. Because he had.

But at a sudden change in pace, Hua Che swiped the glass and Pei Yu hesitated for a second too long.

Smack.

Pei Yu’s palm landed on the table.

Hua Che grinned. “Too slow.”

The tail behind him swished again in victory.

Pei Yu’s expression didn’t change, though his fingers tapped the table softly—just once.

Thinking he might be displeased, Hua Che explained, “Most guests haven’t played before. You’ll get the hang of it. I’ve played it a lot—that’s why I’m so good at it.”

He was good. Too good. The rhythm, the flow—it was clear he’d played this same game, with this same seductive routine, many times before.

Pei Yu took a sip of tea, the porcelain cool in his hand.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “you’re very experienced.”

There was a trace of something in his voice. Not quite anger—just an uncomfortable tightness. A sliver of displeasure.

He didn’t like it.

Just like he hadn’t liked how Zemura Koichi had spoken about Hua Che. Just like he hadn’t liked the lewd, careless remarks from the crowd.

Placing the cup down, Pei Yu leaned back and said calmly, “I lost. I’ll accept the punishment.”

Hua Che smiled, slowly rising to his knees. He reached across the low table, pressing a palm to the surface as his robe slid down one shoulder—revealing pale, flawless skin.

His fingers reached for Pei Yu’s shirt.

“Then I’ll begin,” he murmured, his breath warm and sweet with wine and roses.

He moved closer, shifting across the table on his knees. The sheer fabric of his robe trailed behind him and gathered at the edge of the table.

His hand stopped at the top button of Pei Yu’s shirt. With one finger under the chin, he tipped it up gently.

“May I?”

Pei Yu tilted his head slightly, throat bobbing.

One button.

Then another.

Hua Che’s fingers moved slowly, not just unbuttoning, but trailing deliberately down the line of Pei Yu’s chest, leaving a ghost of heat in their wake. The air grew thick with tension, their breaths the only sound in the room.

When his hand reached Pei Yu’s lower abdomen, he paused—pressing gently.

The muscles beneath twitched in response.

Hua Che raised a brow, amused. “Holding back?”

He traced a small circle on Pei Yu’s abs, smiling as if he had the upper hand. This was familiar territory—he knew how to make Alphas crack.

He could already see the dark fire in Pei Yu’s eyes, the sharp edge of desire behind the calm.

But that was it.

Pei Yu shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. His fists clenched behind him, shoulders rising and falling with effort.

Still, he didn’t move.

He didn’t act on it.

Even with his shirt half open, his skin warm, and Hua Che kneeling just inches away, Pei Yu sat there—still, silent, controlled.

“Not going to continue?” he rasped.

Hua Che blinked, surprised. Most guests would’ve pounced by now—grabbed him, pushed him down, tried to bite, tried to take.

That was when he’d usually press the emergency call button and end the session.

But not this time.

Pei Yu hadn’t taken the bait.

Intriguing.

With a smirk, Hua Che slid his fingers around the side of Pei Yu’s shirt and unhooked the arm straps, pulling the shirt off completely.

A lean, muscular frame came into view. Toned, but not bulky. Strong, but not showy. Every line honed by discipline, not vanity.

A body not meant for display—but for function, for control.

It was… restrained. Pure in its own way.

Hua Che stared longer than he meant to.

“What’s on your mind?” Pei Yu asked softly.

Startled, Hua Che’s eyes darted back up. The foxish allure in his gaze faltered for a moment, ears twitching.

He retreated slightly, putting space between them again.

“I was just thinking,” he said with a grin, “your arms are stronger than I thought. No wonder it felt so good when you choked me earlier.”

Pei Yu responded evenly, “I wasn’t even using force.”

Hua Che laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Then I wonder what it would feel like if you did.”

The air crackled between them.

They held each other’s gaze for a long second.

“Shall we keep playing?” Pei Yu asked, voice low.

“Wait.”

Hua Che leaned down and retrieved the two leather armbands that had fallen to the floor. He slipped them back onto Pei Yu’s arms—tightening them slightly, just enough to leave red marks.

Against bare skin, the leather looked even more provocative. A hint of restraint. An edge of danger.

Hua Che smiled. “Not bad, right? I’m fair—I play by the rules.”

The bands dug into Pei Yu’s arms, already making his muscles ache. But he made no complaint.

“Continue,” he said.

So they played again. Faster now.

This time, Pei Yu moved quicker. Hua Che slapped the table.

A loss—one that felt intentional.

He straightened with a soft hum, his body angled just so beneath the gauze, as if offering himself up again.

“Guest…”

His voice lowered, sultry and smooth, as intoxicating as the wine.

“…Please punish me.”