Meng's cheeks burned as Fang Lee's fingers deftly worked at the knots of her garment, his movements slow and deliberate. The triangular sash that had been wrapped around her waist loosened under his touch, and for a moment, he let it slip from his hands as he stepped behind her.
His breath was warm against her ear.
"Just one more tie, and this piece is gone~" He murmured, his voice smooth like silk as he slid his arms beneath hers, fingertips grazing the fabric's final knot.
A shiver ran down Meng's spine as she felt his body press up behind her, the unmistakable heat of his arousal seeping through layers of clothing while he teasingly kissed her neck.
"Mmm!?"
A soft sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, and before she even realized what she was doing, she shifted—pressing herself back, ever so slightly, against him.
His member pressed firmly against her delicate rear, its shape sheathed beneath his pants. But that didn't stop Fang Lee from meeting her subtle thrusts with his own. And the moment she registered her boldness, embarrassment crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Her hands gripped the front of her garment instinctively. "P-Please… s-stop this, Young Master Lee…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, yet her body remained frozen in place, betraying her own hesitation.
Fang Lee chuckled, the deep, knowing sound sending another tremor through her.
"Stop?" he mused, easily undoing the last tie before stepping back, leaving a frustrating emptiness where his warmth had been.
Meng's breath hitched, a strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling inside her as he peeled away the upper layer of her garment and let it fall to the floor behind them.
Fang Lee took a slow step to the side, his sharp green eyes trailing over her figure with an appreciative gaze.
"Let's see what we're working with~" he murmured, tilting his head as he admired the soft curves still hidden beneath the thin white fabric of her second layer.
His hands found her waist as he moved behind her once more, fingers grazing the silk that still clung to her skin. Then, without hesitation, he slid his hands upward, cupping her full breasts through the remaining layer.
A quiet gasp left Meng's lips as his warm palms kneaded the soft flesh, exploring her shape with teasing precision.
"Your body is breathtaking," Fang Lee whispered, his fingers pressing in just enough to make her squirm.
"E-Eeck!"
Meng let out an involuntary squeak as she felt the heat of his shaft pulse against the back of her skirt, his touch leaving a trail of tingling warmth across her skin.
Her breath came faster, her thoughts hazy as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration.
'This dream feels unbelievably real… If this really is the work of that Dream Pattern Akari and Ren found, then I owe them big time.'
Fang Lee's thoughts drifted as his fingers lazily traced over Meng's soft, warm skin. The sensation, the weight of her body against him—it was all so vivid. If this was truly just a dream, then he intended to indulge in every second of it.
I should get them something as thanks… That damn Lolita lover Akari's been nagging me to be her plus-one for that new Tokyo water park. Maybe I'll grab a few tickets—let her gawk at all those princesses she's always obsessing over. As for Ren? Hah, a couple of magazines will do. He's easy to please
A smirk tugged at his lips as he let his hands drift lower, sliding down from Meng's supple chest and tracing along the curve of her waist.
She squirmed slightly beneath his touch, her breath coming in soft, uneven puffs.
"Relax, Meng~" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.
With deliberate slowness, he found one of the ties at her skirt and pulled, letting the fabric loosen as it began to unravel around her trembling form.
"Aren't you a cautious one~" Fang Lee mused, amusement lacing his tone as he took in the sight before him.
Beneath the layers he had so teasingly unraveled, Meng still had a pair of modest white pants hidden under her skirt—a final barrier between him and the treasure he sought.
Meng mumbled something under her breath, but her words were too soft to make out, likely swallowed by embarrassment. Her face burned a deep shade of red as she instinctively pressed her thighs together, hands rising to shield her expression.
Fang Lee chuckled, thoroughly entertained by her reaction.
"Come with me~" he said smoothly, his voice coaxing yet laced with undeniable intent.
Meng hesitantly peeked between her fingers, her eyes flickering to Fang Lee, who was already making his way toward the bed. Without hesitation, he began undoing his hanfu, the smooth fabric slipping from his shoulders as he cast a knowing glance in her direction.
The tension in the room thickened as anticipation hung in the air.
Meng's heart pounded against her ribcage, a frantic rhythm she couldn't control. Her hands trembled as she hesitantly lowered them from her flushed face, eyes drawn—almost against her will—to Fang Lee.
He stood near the bed, his fingers moving deftly over the fastenings of his hanfu. With effortless grace, he slipped the fabric from his shoulders, exposing lean muscle and smooth, pale skin beneath the soft candlelight.
Her breath caught in her throat.
'Why is he so…' Meng clenched her fingers into the fabric of her pants, willing herself to look away—but she couldn't.
The robe slid further, pooling at his waist, revealing more of his toned frame. He wasn't built like the older warriors of the Fang Clan, all bulk and battle scars. No, Fang Lee was different—his body held the sharpness of a blade still being honed, a mix of elegance and quiet strength.
A wave of heat crawled up her neck
'This is wrong… isn't it?'
And yet, her feet moved of their own accord, following his unspoken command as she stepped toward the bed. Every inch of space between them seemed to hum with something she couldn't name.
Fang Lee tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her approach.
"Hesitating?" His voice was smooth, teasing—but beneath it was something deeper, something knowing.
Meng swallowed hard, her fingers still gripping the hem of her upper garment. She could still turn back, still find a reason to leave—
But she didn't.
Her legs felt weak as she climbed onto the bed, her movements careful, uncertain. The scent of him—something faintly herbal, mixed with warmth—wrapped around her as she sat, knees pressing together as she looked anywhere but at him.
The space between them was small. Too small.
And yet, when he reached out, fingers grazing her chin, Meng didn't pull away.
Her pulse raced.
'What have I gotten myself into?'