DITA – Chapter 17.2 (NSFW)

Deep in the Act

Translator: Kotoni

Editor: Isalee

First Published on Chaleuria

Chapter 17.2 (NSFW)

Chen Hsin was glaring daggers at Wu Rong now, refusing to budge from the spot in some kind of defiance. The two were thus locked in a staring competition for a while. Unable to out-stare the other man, Wu Rong raised the window again, cutting Chen Hsin off, and yelled at him through the glass, “What’s the problem with you? You’re f***ing nuts!”

Unexpectedly, Chen Hsin strode around the front of the car, opened the door on the other side, and got into the front seat. Wu Rong was dumbfounded. He did not bother with any civility as he gave Chen Hsin a rough push. “Get the hell out of here!”

Instead of backing down, Chen Hsin reached out and returned the favor. Then they began shoving at each other in earnest. Knowing how strong Wu Rong was, Zhang Zhun became worried that Chen Hsin would be injured if this continued any longer. Holding up his pants in an awkward manner with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around Wu Rong’s and called out repeatedly, “Senior!” But Chen Hsin was crestfallen. Zhang Zhun did not call out to him at all and his heart seemed to have been hollowed out. He fell still. After taking several shoves from Wu Rong in silence, he got out of the car in despair and slammed the door behind him.

The director and the crew were back in position once more. Zhang Zhun pressed a hand to his head, an uncontrollable quiver in his lashes. Wu Rong, on the other hand, did not think much of Chen Hsin at all. “Buddy,” he said with a sigh, “I’m going all out this time.”

Zhang Zhun smiled in resignation. “You were holding back just now? You almost killed me.”

Wu Rong climbed onto him and propped his arms by the sides of Zhang Zhun’s forehead as if he were looking down at his own woman in bed. “Too much for you already? But your big brother here has something even better saved up just for you – something faster and harder!”

Pretending to knee Wu Rong in the gut, Zhang Zhun swore with a laugh, “Go screw yourself!”

They were both aware that this playful banter was only a passing reprieve before things had to get serious again. They shared a hearty laugh and settled down. Wu Rong’s expression darkened, while Zhang Zhun peered out of the tinted window and watched as Chen Hsin’s back receded further and further into the distance. The director instructed through his headset, “Action!”

Right on cue, Wu Rong buried his face in the crook of Zhang Zhun’s neck and took a deep breath of his sensual, alluring cologne. Two large hands began stroking upwards along Zhang Zhun’s sides, dipping under his shirt to fondle his chest, before abruptly gripping his collar and tearing his shirt apart. The force sent the ultramarine buttons scattering everywhere. One hit the camera lens with a clink, before bouncing onto the window with a second clink – adding a sense of realism to the scene that had Chen Hsin holding his breath as he watched the action unfold on the monitor.

Wu Rong’s tongue began roaming over the honeyed flesh before him, sliding from a spot behind Zhang Zhun’s ear to his collarbone, then lapping from his chin to the socket of his eye. Helpless tremors washed over Zhang Zhun’s body and crept into even his voice as he begged, “Let me go… I’ll give you all the money you want!”

He was answered by a merciless blow from a hardened punch. Wu Rong spat into his hand and reached down, pretending to smear his spit over himself. “That’d make me your whore. No deal.”

Wu Rong’s voice was positively obscene as the last two syllables rolled off his tongue – no deal – and they rang out with a roguish, shameless indecency. Then, acting on the overt lust in his voice, he pretended to bury himself in Zhang Zhun with a single, cruel thrust.

A whimper spilled from the headset, low and sharp, and full of pain. It was the sound of pure suffering. Drops of cold sweat trickled down the curve of Zhang Zhun’s cheeks. He was no longer struggling. His hands grabbed weakly at Wu Rong’s sweater while his unfocused eyes stared vacantly at the roof of the car. His long lashes, almost translucent in the strong white light of the parking garage, trembled with a life of their own as tears beaded on their tips.

“F***!” Wu Rong snapped his hips forward and back with wild, exaggerated movements. His face and body were drenched in sweat. Scrunching up his brow and tensing the muscles in his cheeks, he cried out, “You feel so f***ing good!” He gripped one of Zhang Zhun’s legs, roughly lifting it over his shoulder, and pressed in further. With a tilt of his head, Wu Rong began sucking at Zhang Zhun’s skin, leaving a wet trail of hickeys in his wake. “You like that? Feels good huh?”

Broken, nasal moans escaped from Zhang Zhun’s lungs with his ragged breath. As if it was too much for him – or perhaps it was not nearly enough for him – Zhang Zhun tensed and twisted his waist into an unnatural angle. At this point, Wu Rong’s mind was still clear. He knew that they had to push their performance even further; they had not gone far enough. He began moving his hands with purpose: one found its way to a small nub on Zhang Zhun’s chest and pressed down hard with its fingers, while the other made its way between Zhang Zhun’s legs.

Zhang Zhun was shocked by the touch; it felt so brazen and real against his skin. Their eyes met for a brief instant. Then, running his hand through his hair as if in defeat, he gave in to Wu Rong. The last inhibitions were gone; the two finally went all out. In an instant, still staring at the screen, Chen Hsin felt the heightened tension in the scene. It was the kind of tension that was only possible between two men – so wrong, so tantalizing – the kind of perverse passion that made you want to throw all caution to the wind just to give it a go. Chen Hsin knew it well. He knew it all too well.

Then he heard the change that came over the moans in the headset. Some were short and quick, some were long and deep; some came from Wu Rong, some came from Zhang Zhun. Their voices fused together in a churning mess: one burning with the violent desire for pillage and plunder, the other responding with docile, lingering feeling. It no longer seemed like acting. It was as if they were truly making love to each other. Chen Hsin scrunched up his empty paper cup, flung it onto the ground, and stomped off.

No one took notice of Chen Hsin’s behavior; everyone’s attention was focused on the screen. Wu Rong and Zhang Zhun clung to each other in an intoxicated embrace, their bodies melded together as they rutted against each other in despair like two fish out of water. Wu Rong buried his nose against Zhang Zhun’s throat, so far gone in his acting that he seemed to be losing himself. Yet, just as he was about to slip completely into the mire of pleasure, he heard an almost inaudible moan, “Hsin… Chen Hsin!”

Dazed with desire, Wu Rong was unable to make out the name though he was aware that Zhang Zhun had made a mistake. Despite knowing that the breathy moan was too soft to be picked up by the mics, he was not going to take any chances. “F***! You’ll be the death of me!” he cried out, before crushing his burning lips against Zhang Zhun’s slightly open mouth.

The kiss, searing and all-consuming in its intensity, felt almost like an exchange of their very souls. It was wilder and crazier than any kiss Wu Rong had ever given his wife. Zhang Zhun, in response, curled his hands around Wu Rong’s head. His moaning became loud and clear. His hips began bucking upward in a frantic rhythm, and he buried himself further into Wu Rong’s arms with every thrust.

They edged into the final throes of their exertion. The vigorous vibrations that ripped through the Cayenne now were captured in full by the two cameras that had been set up on the outside to focus on the front and rear ends of the car. Just then, Chen Cheng-Sen decided to add an improvised development to the scene, and Zhou Zheng rushed off to select the necessary actors. “Wu-laoshi,” the instruction came through the intercom, “hold out for a little longer.”

“F***! I’m going to cum!” Wu Rong cried out; it was unclear whether he was delivering a line or giving a heads-up to the director. He gathered the last of his strength and sped up the movements of his ass even more. Faster and harder.

Soon, a bantering couple emerged from the elevator, arm in arm. The man was clearly drunk. As they neared the Cayenne, the man pointed at the car and spat, “Car sex in public? Have they no sense of shame?” Driven by the rush of alcohol in his system, he stalked up to the car and tried to press himself against the window. “So what if you have a fancy car? Rich people are pervs!”

The woman tried to pull him back, but he insisted on getting a look. A camera focused on him while the other focused on the view through the front seat window. After looking in, he put on a shocked expression and staggered his way back to his girlfriend. He spat on the ground. “What the hell! That was two men back there!”

The two disappeared into the distance, still swearing and cursing. After two powerful jolts, the Cayenne slowly became still again. The sound of heavy breathing lingered in the director’s headset, suggesting of unsated desires for more. Before the camera, Wu Rong propped himself up to look at the man below him with a patronizing gaze. He saw the pink in the other man’s face, and the delirious desire that suffused his expression. Combing the man’s disheveled hair from his face, Wu Rong gloated, “When you go to the cops, don’t forget to tell them what a good f*** this was!”

Then, he patted the man’s cheeks, and swept an appreciative gaze all over the man’s naked body as if he was surveying a trophy. “Cut!” the director called out as he removed his headset.

Wu Rong was exhausted; he was so drained that he no longer seemed to have the strength to even open the door. His hand was wet and sticky with Zhang Zhun’s cum, while Zhang Zhun’s legs were covered with his. He stole a furtive look at the flesh between Zhang Zhun’s legs and saw how red it had become from his grinding. After taking off his sweater and covering Zhang Zhun with it, Wu Rong wiped his hand on his pants and opened the door. He felt the weakness in his legs as soon as they touched the ground. “This is way more tiring than filming an action scene! I’ve been scammed!”

The door slammed shut. Zhang Zhun lay alone in the car, thoroughly spent, undisturbed by the crew that kept their distance out of consideration for him. Through the tinted window, he cast his eyes towards the monitor once more. Chen Hsin was no longer there. Pressing a hand to his forehead, Zhang Zhun swore, “Dammit!


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