Yixing was always theatrical; from the fact he wore clothes that appeared to have been modernised wonders of the past to how he would only ever demand for Yifan to be his personal guard. No matter where he was, Yifan was close by with his hand on the hilt of a long bladed sword.
There had even been talk of the prince seeking Yifan's presence within his bedroom chamber, not outside to guard with the others. But, inside to give in to the prince's whims. It was never spoken of, nor disclosed to anybody outside of that wing of the palace, that there would often be noises overflowing with lust creeping out from the gap under the door.
It wasn't their place to say anything; it was the prince and head guard's prerogative what they got up to once that lock was clicked. It was, however, within their rights to know how the uniformed man was not one to shy away from drawing his weapon at anybody who could do the prince any harm. The maids and footmen thought it was love, that the guard would do anything to protect his lover. The other soldiers viewed it as Yifan's vow to work and the prince relayed his gratitude through his body.
There was always a titter of approval whenever the guard came to the prince's door to receive the breakfast that they had called for. Maybe it was how the usually primped to perfection guard had hair mussed on his head. Or the way his lips were closer to red than their normal pink. But, it was evident when he turned his back and each person could see almost blooded marks stringing from hip to shoulder blade.
The only two comments that were ever made, was when Yixing would sit with a satisfied smile through the day after the guard had left to fulfill his other duties. And, how Yixing would suddenly take a hit in his joyous attitude when Yifan was needed out of the palace for days on end. The king and queen thought he was sulking over the fact that he didn't get his own way because they hadn't heeded his demands for Yifan by his side at all times. The workers were closer in their assumptions; Yixing longed to have his loved one by his side, he didn't feel safe or secure without Yifan watching over him and he worried for the guard's safety.
It was always in their reunion that Yixing could be heard crying out deep into the night. It made the footmen flash with red faces, the guards smirk at their ranking officer's antics and the maids’ fabricated stories of two lovers reconvening in a tryst of emotion.
Only Yifan and Yixing knew the reality.
Yifan had been gone for a month and each person knew it from how Yixing would work to distract himself; he often took up helping the footmen and sitting at the pass of the kitchen as he was handed sugary desserts whenever he called out for one. It wasn’t that the prince missed the guard, which he did very much, it was that he worried for the soldier. Yifan was a leader by character, his command and confidence in himself was unwavering but Yixing knew all too well that Yifan was human. There was a four inch long cut curling around Yifan’s bicep from an incident that happened just after their intimate relationship had begun. The guard claimed an over eager sparring session had been the cause when Yixing confronted him about it directly but he overheard a report that an intruder was found walking towards Yixing’s wing of the house. He always knew deep down that Yifan had a devotion to his job that nobody else seemed to understand, that he would rather be harmed, or even killed, in the place of the royal family. Namely, Yixing. It was how Yifan had rocketed up the ranks, his mind just worked in a military mindset at all times.
That often meant that Yixing felt vulnerable outside of the palace when Yifan was gone, many of the other guards saw the job as a source for a paycheck unlike their Regiment’s ranking officer who seemed to be a born soldier.
It only made Yixing feel as though Yifan was more of a target because the prince was always stuck at his side and even holding onto the cuff of his uniform jacket in public. It wasn’t princely, his advisors and parents had told him so, to be as close as he was with the soldier but Yixing didn’t care. As long as Yifan’s eyes were on him, and only him, when they were in the confines of the palace then he didn’t care.
However, his favourite thing was when Yifan would return. It was an occasion usually marked with a changing of the guard ceremony. While Yifan’s regiment knew exactly why the prince would stand at the edge of the parade ground in a finely made black cloak. One of which was lined with the softest faux fur one could imagine and swirled in silk stitching that was in a design that Yifan had shown him before he left. He knew it bore significance to the Wu family, he wasn’t exactly sure why but Yifan had expressed a love for the textile. It drove Yixing to approach the royal seamstress and request it be put into one of his public costumes. It was a clear sign that Yixing was there to welcome his lover back to the palace. With their lack of knowledge, the troop that had guarded during Yifan’s absence could only guess as to why the prince seemed to shine brightly when he had been so dour before. Yixing’s eyes would never leave the man whose silhouette he could notice anywhere, there was even that moment when Yifan would have to command his eyes right to salute to Yixing as they marched past. It was always the first eye-to-eye contact they would have. Yifan’s salute was always to Yixing, no matter the occasion, or if the king and queen were there, he would only ever see Yixing.
It was hours after that point when Yixing would finally have his guard to himself, the large gloved hands coming to release the cape from around his neck to pool at the floor as expert fingers began to unbutton the rest of his clothing. That was all done while kisses were pressed to his neck, teeth grazing every so often and a tongue coming to wipe up any saliva left behind. Yifan’s mouth was the sole reason why he had taken up wearing clothes with taller collars; as it would be utterly uncouth for a prince to be seen parading possessive marks on his skin. No matter how much he wanted people to see it.
“My prince,” Yifan sighed as Yixing’s hands knocked the uniform cap from his head.
“Yifan,” the smaller warned, “You know not to call me that while we are alone.”
He felt the guard laugh against the skin on his neck, “You may be my Xingxing but you’re also my prince.”
“I don’t want you to call me that,” Yixing warned, he hated of being reminded of the fact that he and Yifan weren’t equal as soon as they stepped out of his bedroom, “Ever.”
Yifan said nothing more as he lifted Yixing to the wall, pinning there the smaller body beneath his own and using the stability his hips gave to hold the prince in place. It was then that he managed to unfurl the clothes from Yixing’s torso to reveal skin that was unblemished by their lack of contact for such a long time. The plains were paler than the rest of Yixing’s body, his sternum was a shade of alabaster that Yifan loved to kiss with marks. His hands came to pull down the thick winter material that was detailed in the same silk as the cloak, Yixing’s thighs even more untouched as his chest. It made Yifan think of how nobody else saw the prince in such a way. His body was a vision of marble beauty that lurked in the corners of his mind each moment they were apart.
Yixing loved it when he was bare while Yifan was still dressed in his thick woolen uniform, his belted cartouche inscribed with the Zhang crest and name around his waist, the golden Aiguillette hanging from his right shoulder to the central buttoning and even his sword, sheathed in scabbard right up to the ornate golden hilt. It all felt so rough against Yixing’s skin, the metal digging into the soft flesh and the fibrous ceremonial uniform itched. However, he didn’t mind when Yifan was kissing him.
There were teeth nibbling at his lower lip as the tip of the elder’s tongue toyed with the plump flesh. His small whines had Yifan shifting him harder into the wall and then their lips collided in a rush of heat. It was messy, saliva glossing each other’s lips while tongues pressed to wrap around the one it was fighting for dominance against. They both knew Yifan wouldn’t be going anywhere else any time soon, so they pressed on with the utmost energy with the thought that more gentle meetings could happen later. At that moment, it was all about quelling that thirst, discarding it until they were drowning in each other.
Yixing was sweating from the feeling of Yifan being so close, giving him the attention he had wanted for weeks and all he could think about was how Yifan must have been sweating underneath all those layers. The cold weather had meant winter dress for the guards; their clothes thicker, undershirts beneath heavy white button ups, trousers lined with insulating silk and gloves reaching to the mid forearm. Yixing’s bare fingers started to pry apart the buttons, also carrying the insignia of his family, to pull the navy blue jacket from Yifan’s shoulders. When the both of them did it, it always took all four hands for it to happen fast enough and Yixing’s fingers were shaking as he did so.
He was neither nervous or excited to have Yifan so close, maybe it was the anticipation finally setting in.
“We will have to do it here,” Yifan mumbled as he kissed Yixing’s earlobe softly, “I don’t have time before I have to go down and address your parents.”
“Okay,” Yixing nodded as they finally got through Yifan’s first layer but not getting it to the floor. It hung precariously from Yifan’s shoulders but that was enough. His nimble fingers moved to tear the two sides of Yifan’s shirt open but he was stopped.
“That means I need all my buttons, Xingxing,” he reminded, making the younger groan in disdain as his motions halted because he had to get through yet another string of painfully annoying clasps. Then he had the undershirt to claw up Yifan’s body. “Why don’t we just leave the shirt on?”
Yixing considered it, as much as he would have liked to see Yifan fully naked, he needed to sate the arousal that had grown exponentially in the previous minute and a half, “Just do it.”
Yixing was excited to be filled but then suddenly the gloved hands came to support his thighs, holding him in place as Yifan sank down to the ground with a swift unclick of his sword. The prince could only watch and groan as he saw Yifan angle his head to reach past Yixing’s erect cock and around to poke his tongue at the younger’s palpitating hole. While Yifan had eaten Yixing out before, only once in the shower, he had never seen Yifan so eager to please him. Yixing wanted to cover his eyes at what he saw. Yifan’s face was pressed suffocatingly to the underside of Yixing’s cock that was now leaking into Yifan’s hair, his balls cumbering on Yifan’s cheeks as his tongue breached Yixing’s hole.
It was an utterly degrading position for the guard to be in but his eyes were focused in on Yixing’s face, the sheer intensity of it making Yixing rock his hips. He was using his pelvis to grind on Yifan’s face and Yixing lost the ability to think coherently as a barrage of sensations hit his body. The silky strands of Yifan’s messy hair were caressing at the tip of Yixing’s cock, his nose knocking between the shaft and sac but the main event was in how Yifan was using his teeth to tease at the tender flesh that his tongue was dipping between. Everything felt so much better because he could feel the heat of Yifan’s breath against the sensitive skin, making more small droplets of pre-cum clinging to Yifan’s hair.
There was a moment when all Yixing had supporting him were his thighs on Yifan’s shoulders, the taller male’s hands coming away so one glove could be pulled off. Yixing only felt better when one of Yifan’s hands returned to hold him up as a finger began to press into his ass hole, along with the tongue. Second and third fingers were inserted in along with those swiftly after, all thanks to the fact that Yixing had often entertained himself on lonely nights without Yifan. It seemed as the older man didn’t mind that so much, if anything they were both glad that they wouldn’t have to wait for as long as they’d anticipated. Or at least that would have been the case if Yixing didn’t use his hands to keep Yifan’s face between his legs as he gyrated his hips faster, harder and more sloppily.
He wasn’t in luck, as Yifan just pushed him up the wall and the taller male came to undo his own trousers. They slipped down to his thighs and Yixing was gathering as much of both of their pre-ejaculate up in the bowl of his hand. He rubbed Yifan’s length in the slimy fluid, moving to spit into his palm when he deduced that wouldn’t be enough, it drove Yifan insane to see how impatient Yixing was being. As well as, a whole new level of lewd in the rabidity of the movement his hand made around Yifan’s cock.
With a soft tug, Yixing guided Yifan to his stretched out hole, the head breaching almost immediately and then Yixing was pushing himself down on it. Yifan seemed to share the impatient sentiment, as his hips were driving upwards and Yixing was inched up the wall. There was nothing stopping the wallpaper rubbing up Yixing’s back as Yifan hurled his hips up and in then down and out. Yixing could feel the friction on his rim but the innermost parts of him were moistened by Yifan’s tongue previously. It was one of the better times they’d had sex, especially given how Yixing could fuck back onto Yifan with ease. He was both riding and being pistoned into, it made his chest vocalise in his throat. The moans he had been producing before became elongated high-pitched eruptions that came almost every other second as Yifan had him urging up the surface behind him. He was moving up and down, his legs tying in a knot around Yifan to lock him in.
That became key as Yifan struck against Yixing’s prostate, the older male had a habit of teasing the spot, but in that position, Yixing could angle everything how he wanted it. Nothing seemed to faze them, not the people outside of the room or those who could hear through the open window. Their shamelessness was something that joined them; anybody could hear Yifan’s calls of ‘Fuck, Xingxing’ or Yixing’s squeaks of pleasure. It made Yixing a little embarrassed when people would enter to collect bedding or wash furniture, but while Yifan was there, he never cared.
The movements of Yifans thrusts became like stabbing daggers, unsequenced and sporadic but Yixing was no better. Yifan clasped Yixing’s cock in something soft and warm, the white fabric that covered Yifan’s hand was caressing at the purpling member. They were drenched and sodden in pre-cum far faster than Yixing would ever be proud of but Yifan began to kiss him. Their mouths moulding into a tongueless union, the folds of their mouths moving over each other until Yixing was dribbling out the side of his mouth.
Yixing’s orgasm blindsided him; his eyes clenching as hard as his legs, Yifan aiming the creamy liquid onto Yixing’s stomach to avoid mess on his uniform and Yixing let out a fanatic keen of Yifan’s name. He was limp and lucid as Yifan continued to press him harder into the wall. The soldier’s orgasm hitting him a good few seconds into his oversensitive stupor, making Yixing groan at the painfully pleasuring sensation.
They both tried to catch their stridulous breaths but it was harder than they expected, “Fuck, I’m late.”
Yixing only laughed when Yifan groaned that into his neck, his body still not prepared to move.
“I’m sure they won’t mind if you tell them you got distracted by their little angel,” the prince hummed. “You might want to take your glove off, as you’ve got my cum all over it.”
“Shit, that’s going to stain,” he fumbled to get the fabric off and he had to pull out of Yixing to do so, which made them both hiss out. “I’ll have to request to get a new pair.”
Yifan redressed himself, Yixing settling on the floor and he sighed out, “I’m sorry about that but you could have just used the hand that wasn’t gloved, you know?"
“Yes, I can see that now,” Yifan was doing up the buttons of his jacket and straightening out the wrinkles softly.
“Why do I love you when you’re an idiot with this stuff?”
Yifan reattached the sword to his belt over the top of the clothing, “Because I’m pretty great.” The guard bent down to kiss Yixing’s lips softly. “I missed you,” he whispered and the younger reciprocated equally as softly. Yifan didn't even bother to try with his hair, most of the sticky fluid had begun to dry and clump, he merely pulled his cap on over it. It was only as Yifan was leaving that he turned around to see Yixing redressing himself that he said, “See you soon, my prince.”
Yifan heard the shoe heading for him before it could hit him, leaving him time to step out of its collision course with the wall.
“Just go already,” Yixing whined petulantly.
It felt good to have Yifan back, Yixing decided. Even more so as he decided to show his face at the meeting.
“Brigadier Wu, where are your gloves? I seem to recall that they are mandatory with your winter dress,” The king asked as Yixing entered the room, the prince only smirking as Yifan stumbled for an excuse as to why his uniform was incomplete.