Golden Temptation – A Yuri Story - Chapter 13

Jing Xuan gently carried Lan Qing to the center of the expansive bed, the room bathed in the soft amber light of the bedside lamp. Her delicate figure looked even more fragile against the backdrop of crisp white sheets. Jing Xuan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment—there was something sacred about this vulnerability, this moment between two people who had waited far too long.

She shrugged off her shirt in one fluid motion and embraced her, bare-chested. The warmth of their skin touching made Lan Qing tremble ever so slightly, her breath hitching in anticipation. Jing Xuan leaned down, her lips grazing the curve of her shoulder with reverent gentleness, leaving behind traces of warmth like petals scattered across porcelain. Each kiss was light yet deliberate, igniting ripples of emotion that

Lan Qing could not suppress.

A soft moan escaped her lips as Jing Xuan’s mouth traced a trail along her collarbone. “Ah… Xuan… don’t… it tickles…” she whispered, laughter trembling on the edge of her breath, her hands instinctively tightening around her. Her face flushed as she gently nuzzled her earlobe, the sensation sending shivers down her spine.

“I love how you react,” Jing Xuan murmured, the smile in her voice unmistakable. She moved slowly, reverently, as though memorizing the map of her body with every brush of her fingers, every press of her lips.

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to still.

Her lips found hers again—warm, searching, tender. At first, the kiss was slow, exploratory, but it quickly deepened as Lan Qing parted her lips, inviting her in. Their tongues met and danced, not in conquest, but in a rhythm forged from mutual longing. For Lan Qing, it felt as if a dam of emotion had finally burst. She had dreamed of this connection, imagined it for so long—but reality, she realized, was far more intoxicating.

Jing Xuan’s hands moved with practiced care, never rushing, never demanding—just giving. She worshipped her with every touch, drawing forth gasps and whimpers from her lips. As she explored the softness of her form, Lan Qing’s world narrowed to the warmth of her hands, the press of her body, the intensity of her gaze.

Her fingers tangled in her hair, her heart pounding as waves of unfamiliar sensation coursed through her. She felt herself surrendering, not in fear, but in profound trust. She clung to her, her body arching instinctively as she guided her through every new moment. It was overwhelming, yet grounding. Raw, yet gentle.

“Xuan…” she whispered her name like a prayer.

When the moment of union finally came, it was both delicate and shattering. A sharp jolt of pain crossed her face, and Jing Xuan stilled immediately, her face filled with remorse and concern.

“I’m sorry… does it hurt? Qing, I didn’t mean—”

She stopped her with a kiss, eyes filled with emotion. “It doesn’t hurt. Really. Don’t blame yourself. I’m willing… I wanted this. I want to be yours, completely. Xuan, I’ve never been happier.”

Something in Jing Xuan broke open at her words, her heart filling with awe and protectiveness. She didn’t respond with words—she simply kissed her again, more tenderly than before. Her fingers moved once more, this time with greater care, and Lan Qing clung to her as a flood of unfamiliar sensation overtook her.

She felt as though she was floating, every nerve alive. The rhythm between them grew stronger, more connected. She didn’t know how long it lasted—only that when it ended, she collapsed into her arms, utterly spent and completely content.

Their bodies, sticky with sweat and love, lay tangled together. Jing Xuan gently brushed the damp hair from her face, wiping away the fine sheen of perspiration from her brow. She held her tightly for a moment, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You did so well,” she murmured.

Lan Qing barely nodded, her eyes heavy with sleep. But even as exhaustion overtook her, she couldn’t stop looking at her. “Xuan,” she whispered, “You called me Qing… just now.”

She smiled, voice low. “I did. Qing… my Qing.”

A fragile laugh escaped her lips, quickly turning into something more serious. “Tell me this is real. Please. Tell me I’m not dreaming. I’ve waited for this moment for so long, and now that it’s here… it feels too sudden, too perfect. I’m scared it’ll all vanish come morning.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and Jing Xuan’s heart twisted. She reached out, pulling her closer, her palm resting protectively on her back.

“It’s real,” she whispered firmly. “Everything you feel is real. I promise, when you wake up, I’ll still be here. This happiness—it belongs to you. Always.”

Moved by his words, Lan Qing buried her face in her chest, her tears soaking her skin. She stroked her hair soothingly, her lips brushing the top of her head.

“Don’t cry, silly girl. My Qing doesn’t cry like this. Come on, let’s sleep now. We both need rest.”

Lan Qing let out a soft chuckle through her tears, finally letting go of her worry. She snuggled into her embrace, her body fitting perfectly against her, and closed her eyes. Jing Xuan kissed her gently one last time.

“Good night, my baby Qing.”—

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden light across the room. Lan Qing stirred first. Her eyes fluttered open and settled on Jing Xuan’s sleeping form beside her. A smile curved her lips as memories of the previous night replayed in her mind, her cheeks turning a shade pinker by the second.

She reached out and gently traced the contours of Jing Xuan’s face—her brows, nose, lips, and strong jaw. Her fingers then moved down to the muscles of her chest and arms. She marveled silently at the changes in her. Once so thin and fragile, Jing Xuan now exuded strength and vitality. What had she missed in all those years apart?

She was still lost in thought when Jing Xuan cracked open one eye and looked at her with mock annoyance. “You’re staring,” she said with a playful pout.

Startled, Lan Qing’s hand froze mid-air. “Y-you’re awake?”

“Hard not to be,” she replied, stretching. “You’re practically dissecting me with your eyes.”

Lan Qing’s face turned beet red. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” she interrupted, grinning. “And I don’t mind.” Her tone then softened. “But… does anything hurt? Are you alright?”

The concern in her voice made her heart flutter. She nodded shyly. “It’s okay… I’m okay now…”

The mischievous glint in Jing Xuan’s eyes returned. “Really? You’re sure?”

Seeing the teasing in her smile, she realized she had walked right into her trap again. “Jing Xuan!” she protested, turning away in mock anger. She laughed and quickly hugged her from behind.

“Alright, alright. I was wrong. I’ll be gentle next time, promise.”

“You better be!” she mumbled, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement.

Then her expression turned serious. “Xuan… tell me… how have you lived all these years? And who is Movis?”

The room grew quiet.

Jing Xuan’s smile faded, and her eyes darkened for a moment. “Qing… I won’t lie to you. There are things I want to tell you, everything I’ve been through… but Movis… I can’t explain that part yet. I’m sorry.”

She lay back down, staring at the ceiling, eyes clouded with memories. For a while, she said nothing. Lan Qing didn’t press. She just held her hand, waiting.

After a long pause, Jing Xuan began to speak, her voice low and haunted. “Let me tell you the story, Qing… of everything that happened after we were separated…”