Picture perfect, that's what they were. Dazzling beauty radiating from the both of them as they greeted people into their flawlessly kept home. It was enough to strike anybody aback as they saw the tall yet sleek elder of the couple, his copper hair which was longer on the top and shaved at the sides was styled close to perfection. It was pushed back in a central strip and the undercuts that lined it gave him a cleanly cut look that had an impeccably rugged edge. It was obvious to say that he made any man or woman doubt their sexuality, his tempting looks and his deeply alluring voice being devilish vices that gripped everybody.
While it was a party thrown for and collaborated with the intention of celebrating an achievement of the elder of the two, almost all eyes were on the shorter and far more docile looking of the two. He was not one for public events, his favour settling with the more homely of delights. So few people in the room, his own living room, knew who he was and had only attended the event with the intention of paying heed to the actor’s latest achievement. They had not expected a black haired man, which was medium length and vaguely styled with matte wax. His outfit, contrasting the black on black smart street style his husband was wearing, consisted of a warm brown thick sweater with a pale blue shirt and tie underneath. Both, while dressed casually, looked smart but in completely different ways. They did not look as though they should have been paired together, the smaller appearing like a warm-hearted parent, all while the taller appeared like a cold and distant model.
Nevertheless, anybody who looked at them could see the care and affection that flowed between them. Their domesticated attitude radiating from them like infrared waves that couldn’t be seen by the human eye but could most certainly be felt. They were attached at the hip, the actor looking as though he was showing off the handsome younger and people were attracted to them in swarms.
The atmosphere was balmy and convivial, the constant chatter of the two hundred plus guests filling the entire lower level of the large house made things feel more intimate and the warmth from the hosts translated into each person. Circulating to talk to each person was somewhat of a task for the two homeowners, each small cluster of acquaintances wanting to know more about Wu Yifan’s elusive husband. The actor’s marital status was widely known but the person who wore his ring was the lesser known part of the coupling, his dislike for the spotlight driving him away from film premieres, press conferences and fan meetings.
“Yixing, right?” The fiftieth guest of the evening asked, to which the man in question nodded with his cheeks aching under the effort of retaining a smile, “How did you two meet? I don’t think Yifan has ever shared the story with anybody before.”
“I’m actually a film score composer and I wrote some orchestral pieces for one of his films,” Yixing responded softly, trying to hide the scratch of overuse which had managed to settle in his voice already. “We met on set.”
Yifan’s hand slipped from the smaller male’s waist to his hip and drew him in a few inches closer, “I thought he was a co-star, far too beautiful to be trapped behind a microphone and instruments all day but I was pleasantly surprised when he told me that he was the composer. I was enchanted as soon as he spoke.” Yixing turned away with a blush dashing down from his cheeks to his neck, his tolerance threshold for such adoring words remained embarrassingly low. “Did you know that he planned and did everything for tonight alone? He did all the catering in our kitchen and decorated while I was on set today.”
“Seriously?” The woman across from them gaped, her husband looking equally as shocked to know that all the intricately made food on their small plates were cooked and created by one of the men standing before them.
“Yes,” Yifan responded like the proud husband he was. “He’s truly incredible.”
“Yifan,” Yixing warned, his bashful tone taking all of the bite out of it, “You’re making things awkward.”
“No, he really isn’t,” the man assured, making Yixing retreat closer to his husband’s side, enough that he could feel the steady beating of his heart on his shoulder. “We know nothing about the enigma that has captured the elusive Wu Yifan’s soul. He’s done nothing but seem to pine for, what I am guessing was you, for over a year at all these public events. I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody check their phone as often as him.”
“He’s addictive, what can I say?” Yifan smiled down at Yixing, who had turned to look up at him under his thick eyelashes. There was a flash of something challenging within Yixing’s eyes that had Yifan’s hand creeping lower on his back to rest against the shorter man’s coccyx, his fingers circling soothingly against his trousers.
“You’re a wonderful match, I can see it now,” the man smiled as he spoke, taking a sip from his drink. “As a remarried divorcee, I have this ability to see what’s real between couples and you two have an energy about you that’s so raw.”
Yixing felt surprise course through him but it presented itself as a cherry blossom blush on his cheeks, which he hid by leaning on his husband’s chest, he had no idea what to say next but felt the relief as Yifan’s voice came over the sound of the bustling room, “Thank you, it’s one thing to feel this way but to have somebody notice, it means so much more.”
The man said nothing more as he and his wife left the couple, his smile genuine and soothing for the musician to see. However, once the married duo were left to their own devices, Yixing’s wide smile was replaced for a smaller, authentic one that came with the comfort of being beside his husband.
“I’m no good at this, Fanfan,” he worried, looking up at the handsome man he always thought was so far out of his league that he was sure they were competing in completely different hypothetical sports. “I’m awkward, shy and plain.”
“You’re none of those things, apart from you are a little shy, yes, but that’s expected of you,” he reassured gently. “This is your first real event where you’ve been the main focus and nobody expects perfection, yet that’s what you’re doing.”
“Don’t be so complimentary, it’s unsettling,” Yixing whined, his face becoming a shade of red rather than pink.
“You’d rather I humiliate you?” Yifan rose an eyebrow, the teasing tone to the rest of the people within earshot was nothing but playful but to Yixing, it was hot and primal. The taller leant forward, his lips brushing against the younger’s ear as one of his hands held tighter on the younger’s waist, “Though, I do know exactly how much you would like that.”
They floated around for a little longer, more people turning up as the hours passed by and it was like a constant conveyer belt of those Yixing knew from films he’d watched and from photographs with Yifan in tabloids and magazines. It was difficult for him to separate reality from onscreen personas but his husband knew everybody well enough for the both of them. It was the elder who herded conversations away from topics that would make Yixing uncomfortable, such as the intimate scenes of Yifan’s latest film or the rumours that had circulated about Yifan’s contrived closeness to co-stars and socialites, the latter of which Yixing knew was fabricated by the media to create scandals. There were so few people that Yixing knew personally, it made him feel lost and only the anchor at his hip kept his mind from drifting off to the clouds.
“You’ve done surprisingly well,” a new voice hummed, making Yixing look over his shoulder at the man behind him and Yifan laughed heartily without even welcoming the newcomer.
“You expected less?” Yixing smiled, genuine and bright at the sight of Yifan’s manager, Luhan.
“If Yifan organised it, yes, but if you did it then this is the flawlessness I wanted to anticipate,” the doe-eyed male smiled, surging forward to embrace both men in front of him.
“I’m insulted,” the tallest whined with an eyeroll, making Yixing scoff in time with the manager. “I can throw a good party.”
“You’ve not thrown a good party since you met our little composer,” Luhan already had a glass of champagne in his hands and watched the couple a he took a sip. “Of course, that’s not a bad thing. Falling into an honest love is never a negative but I miss all the drinking, the clubbing and the out-of-this-world lap-danc─”
Yifan’s hand was covering Luhan’s mouth as Yixing tensed up, his eyes casting towards his husband with an unimpressed glare, “Let him finish, Fan.”
The actor withdrew his hand and Luhan appeared to pick up on the tension that surrounded the topic of how Yifan used to be, not that the composer didn’t already know that his husband had enjoyed life like any young, single man who had too much money to spend.
“They were from women,” Luhan defended, “it wasn’t like he could have enjoyed that given that the female form isn’t what gets this loser going. And anyway, the point of this was that all the immature stuff ended when he met you. I think he’d cum embarrassingly fast in his pants if you gave him a lapdance now, I actually am convinced that he would have came if you even mentioned touching his dick when you both first met.”
“Luhan,” Yixing watched Yifan exclaim with a wry smile on his face, “are you drunk already?”
“I think so, this is already my ninth glass of the fizzy stuff. Or is it my thirteenth, I don’t know. I lost definitive count after the first four.”
“I have the most unprofessional manager in the world,” the tall man groaned, burying his head in Yixing’s hair as Luhan downed the contents of his champagne flute in one go. Yixing only laughed as Luhan teasingly stressed his husband out by seeking out yet another one of the drinks they had littered around the room on silver platters.
The three of them stood in silence for a while, giving Yixing time to recuperate and nuzzle into Yifan’s chest further to recharge his social abilities. Talking too much exhausted Yixing, smiling was much the same, and Yifan was like a docking station for him to draw energy from when things got too much. Being introverted wasn’t a fault of Yixing’s, nor was it something Yifan ever tried to change, but it often made Yixing feel bad that he wasn’t as much of a part in Yifan’s life as the other was in his. The last time he had attended a large event was his own wedding and even that was a more intimate affair than the gathering Yixing had set up for that night.
However, those moments of reprieve did not last for long as the minutes passed and a fresh cohort walked through the doors after filming a drama across the city. There were just under twenty new guests and Yixing feared he might not have had enough energy to get through everybody without deflating against Yifan’s body in a way that could have easily been perceived as rude.
It was in that moment that the musician was glad for the couple’s closeness and ability to read each other’s body language as if they were both books.
“I think we’ve run out of hor d'oeuvres on the far table, why don’t you get some more as I greet the guests?” Yifan suggested, making Yixing want to bow down to whichever deity gave him Yifan as he made his discreet escape from the large entertaining area their house had and seeking sanctuary in the kitchen.
He leant against the granite work surface, bearing his weight on the surface as he took deep breaths in and that was all it took for Yixing's shoulders to sag down. He could smell the comfort that came with being at home everywhere, even if the scent of wines and unfamiliar foods flooded in through his body and the noises of numerous people conversing in crowds came through the gaps around the door frame. Yixing's senses were easily overloaded and he began to think that it wasn't the best of ideas to have Yifan's gathering in their own house, there was nowhere for him to escape the noise and the feeling of aloofness that came with the guests.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, his hands cradling his head and his body limply holding itself up against the work surface, but time slowed when he felt long arms wrap around his waist and pull him more upright, "Are you okay?"
"Tired," he admitted, letting Yifan's lips find his neck by tilting his head slightly.
"I guessed as much but this is the last little group to greet and then we can funnel people out," Yifan assured him with hot breath against his neck. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Distract me," Yixing hummed, which made his husband deviously smile against his throat and both his hands crept down from Yixing's waist, settling on the risky area between his navel and the lip of his trousers. "Not like that."
"But it's the best way," Yifan assured him, both of his index fingers prying up Yixing's sweater and shirt combination to caress over the skin. "Humans need flesh to flesh contact to feel good."
"I'm not entirely sure that's right, Fanfan."
"To feel the best then."
The last words were accented with a brush over the sensitive area below Yixing's ear and it was impossible for him to ignore the shivers his body tried to release under his husband's touch. The fingers on his stomach brushed over the vaguely defined lines that lead down to his groin, an area that always made him weak in all aspects bar one: arousal. It never failed to shoot fire through his veins and make him crave more from his husband.
"You know, I keep thinking about how everybody in that room isn't seeing the real you," Yifan hummed a few octaves deeper than before and Yixing whined slightly. "They must think you're so innocent with all your blushing and cute compliment deflections, mustn't they?"
Yixing nodded, closing his eyes and giving in to the gentle but gravely hiss in his husband's voice. However, the knocking on one of the walls just outside of the kitchen had Yixing jolting forward from his husband's touch and glaring around at the elder. "We've got guests, we can't."
"Are you worried that everybody will see how needy I make you?" Yifan challenged as he smirked at Yixing who was turning in his arms.
"Now isn't the time," Yixing warned, his eyes staring at the doorway. "We can do this later but not now."
Yifan smiled, the kind that told Yixing that he had gotten his way and the younger released himself from his husband's hold. The taller of the two followed him out of the kitchen, having both picked up trays of food to place down on the waist high tables they'd set out for the evening, everything seemed to flow smoothly as a hand settled on his hip and guided him to the newer arrivals. All of whom crowded around Yixing, ignoring how his shirt had become un-tucked beneath his sweater and Yifan went back to being his praising self.
It soothed Yixing to have Yifan acting so naturally around the fellow actors he was being introduced to. Nothing was rushed. Everything went at Yixing's pace and Yifan seemed fine with that. Right up until his fingers began to edge up Yixing's shirt and play with a small strip of suddenly sensitive skin, Yixing had to blink a few times before shooting his husband a warning look. Which was ignored.
Yixing shook his head and tried to reintegrate himself into the conversation on public relations in the film industry, not that he was particularly interested but he wanted to do anything to take his mind off the way his husband was stroking over his hip. He watched the two women and three men in front of him talk animatedly between themselves, only nodding when prompted but there was barely anything filtering in through his mind.
"What are you thinking about?" A voice whispered in his ear.
"Nothing," he responded, just as quietly.
"Are you sure about that?" The thumb on his hip pressed harder and grazed further inwards in the direction that would let the appendage dip down past the waistband of his trousers.
"I think you're lying," Yifan hummed, his index finger joining his thumb. "You're wondering how all these people would react if I were to continue with what I'm doing." His middle finger following the other two in teasing at the elastic of Yixing's underwear. "Or rather, you're wondering how these people would react to you."
"Yifan," Yixing tried to caution in a short whisper but it came out more like a breathy sigh. "Now isn't the time."
"Or, are you thinking about how you're actually a shameless little slut?"
"Yifan," Yixing was wide eyed, scanning around them to see if anybody heard what the elder had said to him and his chest jolting in sudden fear, his heart only settled when he saw that their guests were completely occupied with each other and not the hosts. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Come on, you want everybody to see how much you like being teased, don't you?" Yifan's tongue flicked slightly against the shell of Yixing's ear. "You're acting like you don't enjoy when I talk to you like this, especially with how praising everybody has been tonight. Don't you think it's time you reveal your true colours as a little whore?"
Yixing felt his face turn bright red, both in embarrassment and arousal as Yifan's body seemed to edge closer and his hands went deeper into his underwear, touching over the soft skin there. He tried to tell the other to slow down, that somebody would see the way Yixing's body was coiling into his husband's side but a limp whine left his lips instead. His mind went blank and body numb to everything but the way the other was touching up his body.
"Be honest with yourself, Yixing," Yifan goaded, smiling against the other's skin. "Don't you think all these people would like to see the way you cry out like a little wanton bitch?"
Yixing bit his lip, turning his head towards the taller's shoulder as his breathing became shaky. The composer had become painfully hard in a matter of words, each syllable and pronounced letter was like a brush up the sensitive vein on the side of his cock, the one that had been licked and lapped at by his husband hundreds of times.
"I think you should own up, slut," Yifan pronounced the T harshly, a minuscule spray of his saliva hitting Yixing's ear as he whispered in his ear.
"Yifan," somebody called, making the elder turn away from Yixing and the younger breathed out a small sigh of relief in his short reprieve. However, his mind was spewing out images of how he would look on his knees, naked with an audience as Yifan used his biggest kink to tease him out of his mind. Yixing had a craving for that slightly dirty and humiliated feeling he knew would make him whimper and beg to be touched, to be fucked until he felt like he had lived up to the names his husband called him.
Yixing was burning up, his sweater had become too tight and too thick fast and there was no avoiding the way sweat beaded on his forehead as his imagination ran wild. He wasn't an exhibitionist by nature but there was an element of thrill in the idea of other people seeing how degrading him was the fastest way to make his eyes roll back into an almost violent orgasm. He was surprised that Yifan hadn't used the idea of others seeing Yixing in his near debauched state previously in their relationship, though he put that down to both of their selfishness in coveting the other from the rest of the world.
The actor remained in full conversation as his hand teased more and more at Yixing's body, causing many thinly veiled shivers and sighs to leave his mouth. The composer was completely detached from his ability to think clearly as his body heat escalated, his mouth dried up and his hands began to tremble slightly, it was like he needed to be completely doused with cold water before he would be pulled out of his sensory stupor. Everything in the way Yifan was touching him had his eyes weakly fighting to stay open and he could feel the hooded look he would have been showing his guests, it was a faint hope that people would view it as tiredness and not evolving arousal.
As a few other guests joined the conversation Yifan was having, the elder began to pay Yixing's body yet more of his special attention. It was a wonder that they hadn't been caught yet.
"Yixing," his husband whispered into his hair, "be quiet."
The man in question wanted to protest and argue that he was being as silent as his body could ever permit, but a small whimper escaped him as Yifan's hand left where it had been tucked into Yixing's trousers and it made its way to his neck. There were gentle brushes against his nape, presses of fingertips below his ear and caresses up the column of his throat. To anybody else, the actions appeared innocent and even comforting but to the couple, it was the exact opposite. Yixing's sensitive neck was his biggest weakness, it drove him over the edge numerous times in the past and made it next to impossible for him to respond coherently to even Yifan. He could never hold his voice back when his neck was stimulated, it was a dirty tactic from Yifan to do such a thing to him and he wondered why his constantly praising husband had switched personas quite so drastically.
"Good slut," Yifan murmured, muffled by the tresses on Yixing's head.
There was a flimsy moan on Yixing's tongue as the words finally registered in his mind and he felt the grip tighten up slightly as one of the guests cast Yixing a wary glance.
"Is he okay?" The other actor asked with a concern that seemed genuine in Yixing's hazy mind. "He's practically dripping with sweat."
"It is a bit warm in here," Yifan's voice vibrated louder than it had been before, "and he's wearing that sweater but we had a bit of an issue earlier when we were setting up the food, some of it stained his shirt and he doesn't really want it to be seen."
"Ah, I think we've all been there at these kinds of events, I seem to remember dropping some ramen down myself in the car before an award ceremony. I didn't take my jacket off until I got home."
The other actor faded into the background as he rejoined the avidly chatting group that Yixing and Yifan were stood amongst, leaving Yixing to sag slightly into the taller's shoulder and use it to muffle the sounds his mind seemed hellbent on releasing.
The touches on his neck became more frequent and were joined by heavy breathing as Yifan curled himself around Yixing and licked lightly at the perfumed skin of Yixing's throat. There was a burning within Yixing to tilt his head back, to give the other full access and give away that his crumbling demeanour was the result of the burning lust he always seemed to carry for his husband.
He didn't even realise his moans until Yifan stopped touching at his sensitive points, "Xing, you're being that shameless slut we talked about earlier. Do you want everybody to see you like this?"
"Don't care," Yixing whimpered, pressing his hips into Yifan's side and faintly grinding.
He was hard, ridiculously and painfully hard, and he knew that the other wouldn't really touch him in the ways he wanted with other people around them. Yixing was not yet completely oblivious in his own mind to not worry about that but all he could focus on was the heavy weight of stimulation on his body and the way his cock was leaking at the way Yifan's breath was condensing on his neck.
"Please," Yixing's voice was quiet, his face burning up in embarrassment to be so shameless around so many people. "Touch me, Yifan."
He looked up and saw his dark-eyed husband, the glee of making Yixing embarrassingly turned on in such a room evident on his face and Yixing tucked himself back down in vague humiliation of having such wants. And yet, it was the twisting sense of indignity and shame that had the pulsing feeling in his cock twitching harder against his underwear.
"Only if you admit something for me," the elder growled lowly.
He breathed out a feeble, "What?"
"Admit that you're a little bitch."
Yixing was torn between mortification and rubbing his pelvis into Yifan even harder than before. A part of him wanted to whimper out what was requested of him, to seek gratification as quickly as he could but he halted the ease in which the words rose up into his throat. He shook his head, not exactly wanting to risk the embarrassment of somebody overhearing him if he couldn't quite keep his voice low enough for only Yifan to hear.
"Or would you rather I make you admit that you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours in front of all of these people?"
The composer didn't have to think as he whined, "I'm a little bitch," while his hips ground his cock into Yifan's upper thigh.
"Whose little bitch are you?"
"Yours," there wasn't even a beat between when Yifan asked the question and Yixing's response, it was a reflex reply to a question he had been asked many times since they'd met.
"Say it," Yifan's teeth caught on Yixing's earlobe, giving him room to look over his husband's shoulder and see people almost cooing at what they thought was a romantic display of affection.
"I'm Wu Yifan's little bitch," Yixing closed his eyes as he said it, the horrifying statement had Yifan laughing against his shoulder. Whether or not that was to make Yixing feel the most embarrassment that he could from it wasn't something he was able to really register. He merely continued on with his needy tirade of panting and gentle grinding as if it was a wordless chant of lust.
They were interrupted by some guests, one of them touching Yixing's shoulder and it was like a splash of reality through the body of the composer. The contact had him jolting slightly in Yifan's hold and turning away from his husband in a way that he could look at the people without revealing his erection. He was thankful that Yifan let one of his arms fall down to Yixing's waist and go rigid to give him enough stability to support himself a little more than he had been. Plus, he could barely engage with the man in front of him without revealing the breathy, stuttering nature of his voice.
"You have a wonderful home and Yixing, you're a wonderful cook," the man complimented, which had Yifan pinching at the younger's waist as a reminder of the shameful statement he'd made about himself in the moments prior. The composer merely smiled, bowing his blushing cheeks and Yifan was the one who thanked them for their attendance, that their support was greatly appreciated and Yixing was left reeling from how composed the other could sound while he was cloaked in a thin sheen of perspiration and longing for any kind of stimulating contact.
Yifan turned to Yixing, leaned in close to his ear and muttered, "We're not done yet, go upstairs."
Yixing took a few seconds to collect himself enough to move out of Yifan's supportive hold before he was excusing himself from the people around him, leaving it to Yifan to employ a good enough reason for Yixing's disappearance. The composer, however, was not one to linger when he was given a chance to escape. He bound his way up the stairs, not halting in his bedroom until he got to his en-suite and only then did he stop. He twisted the cold tap, cupping his hands beneath it and he washed his face with the fluid, letting the water help to ground himself a little more. His heart was still beating strong and fast, his breath was still shallow and struggling for more oxygen and his cock was still hard where it was restrained.
The only relief he gave himself was the undoing of his trousers, the heel of his palm digging into his erection and whimpering as he watched himself in the mirror. It was embarrassing to see himself but he couldn't help but look at how red his face had gone, evidence of how turned on he was and that spurred him on to palm harder into himself. Yixing could hear the guests leaving, the sounds of cars echoing down their gravel driveway and the clamour of people outside the window and he thought of all those people knowing what he was doing not too far away. He wondered if they would laugh at him for being so ridiculously aroused or if they would be disgusted by the easy way his husband had turned him on with a few degrading words.
That alone had Yixing moaning loudly and he knew he had to restrain himself, as he wasn't wanting to lose himself at the touch of his own hand. He placed both of his hands under the still running tap and splashed his cheeks again, it helped like a damp blanket on a fire; only holding back the flames for a few moments before they were reignited. He switched the water off, left the bathroom and then bedroom to stand in waiting for his husband at the top of the stairs, who sounded as if he was still seeing off guests from their lounge. Yixing paced impatiently, his body slowly climbed in heat again as some of his strength returned to his bones and there was a small voice in his head - which sounded a lot like Yifan - saying that he was prowling like a bitch in heat as he waited for the elder.
He didn't have to wait long until his copper haired other half was at the bottom of the staircase, slowly making his way up as their eyes connected in a heated battle. Yixing didn't wait for Yifan to get to the top of the steps before he was making his way back down to their bedroom, swaying his hips gently and looking over his shoulder at the taller male following him. There was excitement in Yixing's veins as Yifan caught up to him in the corridor, his large hands pressing in a hard grip around his hips and moving him along faster to the door of their bedroom.
Yixing stood still in the threshold, letting Yifan mouth up and down his neck, it was teasing and not quite yet one of the fiery actions he knew was to come. It was a filler manoeuvre, something to top Yixing's arousal back up to the breaking point it had been before. It was the silent way to make him simmer up to boiling, the trajectory of Yifan's lips going up from the fabric on his shoulder to the sensitive skin of his nap was reflective of the temperature rise within Yixing. However, it was the firm hold Yifan had on him that reminded him of the easy way Yixing had crumbled around so many people.
The elder's mouth was always diligent in gathering up the sweat that collected at his collar, he laved at the area as though it was what could quench every thirst he had in his life. Yixing could feel every part of that intent against his body, the fact that the other barely had to touch him to have him feel as though he was what he liked to be called by Yifan; a whore, a slut, a little bitch. He found himself keening, tilting his whole body to allow the other to reach more of his neck, to lay the foundations to the pleasure he knew was come as the night progressed and that made him edge towards the borders of his own sanity.
The way Yifan's fingers dug into Yixing's flesh was scintillating, the way the tips dipped down below his waistband and teased at the edge of his underwear was even more so. It was barely an escalation of what had been happening in the half an hour before, it was a continuation of the teasing and Yixing always liked that, he enjoyed the way Yifan stretched the process out and ground him down until there were nothing but whimpers leaving his lips. The hold also ensured that Yixing couldn't get carried away in the involuntary thrusts his hips were doing, the spasms wouldn't have achieved much anyway as they were into the nothingness that flowed before him and not into the strong body of his husband, which was what he was craving the most in that moment.
He knew he wanted to progress, to level up in their ministrations because his entire body was alight with lust, and wanting, that the craving could no longer be quashed, he had to push onwards until Yifan gave him everything he had been wanting since the teasing had first begun. It was impossible for many to imagine such a pristine man, like Yifan, acting in such a way but Yixing knew it was all only for him. Yifan's entire domineering persona was for Yixing's benefit, the harsh words laced into his ears were all for Yixing and each touch made to his body was with the aim of creating and nurturing pleasure.
The two of them stumbled easily into the room from there, Yixing turned away to close the door, even though they were the only ones in the house. There was a want in him to ensure that the rest of the night was just the two of them. The process was also another short moment for him to gather himself before totally giving himself up. But, again, that was cut short as Yifan pushed him against the door. One hand rubbed almost painfully over Yixing's erection, finally giving it the attention from his husband it had been crying out for, for almost an hour. His cock leaked and poured more precum into his underwear, probably enough to soak through the trousers he was clad in. He could imagine the names Yifan could call him if that had happened so clearly in his head and that only had more spilling out over the tip in large droplets.
The moan that escaped his lips was beyond needy and in the realms of pleading already. He was begging to be touched more, begging to be stripped naked and begging for Yifan. There was nothing else in his mind other than anticipation of what was to come, he couldn't even stop his body from pressing his ass out and grinding over where the elder was rapidly hardening. That was always the precursor to when their fun would begin all over again.
Yifan hastily tugged Yixing's sweater over his head once he had pulled him a little bit from the door, his hands brushed over his ribs and it sent shock waves of contact through Yixing's body that were electrifying to the Nth degree. It was a humbling feeling to be undressed by the person you loved but when it was so animalistic, the threads of the fabric pulling and being close to tearing propelled Yixing into the stratosphere above him. Yifan's hands did not stop there, he was popping each of the buttons on Yixing's shirt with expert movements as he revealed more of the perspiring chest that had been hidden beneath the fabric. The elder took his time, he plucked each of the plastic discs with a brush to Yixing's sternum and his head fell back against one of Yifan's wide shoulders. His shirt hung open, the seams brushed over his skin gently as Yifan's lips rejoined with Yixing's neck, he felt as though his flesh was sizzling as the temperature around him dropped. Yifan's hands ran away from the centre of his chest, brushing over his nipples a few times, moving back and forth and drawing out lengthy whines from the younger until his hands slid completely across to his shoulders. His shirt slowly fell from his shoulders and landed with a soft rustle around their feet.
Everything escalated from there, it was an expansion of tension as Yifan's hands ran almost everywhere on Yixing's body. They traced across the flat planes, the curved lines and dips of Yixing's skin until he reached the zipper button of his trousers, he flicked it open and swiftly unzipped them, giving the fabric room to hang loose around his hips. There was only a heartbeat before Yixing's trousers, and underwear, were joining his shirt at their feet.
From there, he was pushed back up against the door but with his back in a more arched position, it gave him free access to move his hips while his upper body could rest against the surface.
"Look at you, you're like a little whore," Yifan growled into Yixing's ear, making him keen aloud in the most vocal of moans of the night and Yixing was nodding avidly. He agreed, that's exactly what he was like, it was like a wave of some otherworldly spirit flooded into his veins when Yifan touched him.
Yixing pressed his hips even further back, he could feel how hard Yifan was in his jeans and he didn't want there to be anything between their bodies. Clothes were always a barrier between the two of them, skin to skin contact was always best between the couple as they grew more intimate with their movements. Yifan's mouth stayed by his ear as one of his hands travelled around to where Yixing's cock was stood hard against his stomach, he touched it lightly up the whole length before gripping it tightly. The large hand moved up and down around him, the tight and dry heat had Yixing's head falling with a bang on the door in front of him, his mouth hung open at a hinge as his chest quickened in allowing air to flow between his lips.
His arms felt gelatinous against the surface, barely supporting his own weight as he felt a pleasurable numbness flow from his lower stomach to his knees and there was nothing else he could do than jam himself between his husband and the door. His cock was bubbling with precum, it coated Yifan's index finger and that gave his strokes a more fluid action as it aided in lubricating the slide up and down. It had Yixing growing painfully hard, the feeling of himself throbbing in Yifan's hand was enough to have him whimper out incoherently. He was completely enthralled at having his husband's hand around his shaft as his bare ass was ground into by the elder's hips, the only action he could execute was the gyrating of his own hips into Yifan's hand and against his jeans. Friction was all he needed in that moment, friction was all he wanted.
The composer nearly fell forward as Yifan pulled away from him, a single hand grabbing at his fingers to turn him around as their lips joined in their first full kiss of the night. The younger was whimpering at the touch of Yifan's tongue against his, weakening even further as he let the taller man's tongue dominate his mouth and combine their saliva in a mix of sweetness and spicy warmth. Yifan explored every curve of his mouth, the backs of his teeth and the tender underside of his tongue, it was a familiar feeling that hadn't lost any of its sensuality as the years passed since their first kiss. The actor's hands rested on the younger's hips, the perfectly clipped nails drawing their pelvises together and rubbing them gently. The feeling of Yifan's denim covered zipper struck right over one of the sensitive areas of Yixing's cock, having his closed eyes roll back and his mouth fill with glossy spittle that erupted over onto their outer lips.
Yixing's hands worked on their own accord, he pulled Yifan's jacket from his shoulders with an almost feral tug before pushing his husband back until his legs hit their bed and with one final shove, he had the elder pressed onto the mattress. He was almost immediately crawling over him, straddling his hips and trying to use each hand to strip the other off; one focused on his shirt and the other struggled to get his well-fitted jeans off his legs. He withdrew his lips from his husband's, focusing on stripping him and seeing as much of the cool shade of the golden that was waiting just beneath.
"You're so fucking desperate," Yifan grumbled lowly with his own hands undoing his jeans and Yixing was nodding, watching with avid excitement.
His hands went straight into Yifan's underwear, he felt the weight of his husband's cock in his hands for a few seconds before returning the favour of stroking him into complete hardness, just like the other had done for him. He could feel the heat radiating from it, the way that the temperature rose as the member grew bigger had Yixing biting his lip in anticipation of what was to come. He watched Yifan watch him, the elder's eyes were dark and full of tension as he observed the small hands draw in and out from the waistband of his underwear and Yixing was excited by the notion of exciting Yifan.
It was only when the elder pulled away that Yixing halted his jerking movements, noting as Yifan sat at the edge of the bed and his immediate response was to crawl back off the bed, sink to the floor and sit patiently between Yifan's legs. There was a quiet moment as Yifan took his boxers off, letting them settle down beside Yixing and the younger leant forward to use his tongue to touch at where his hands had been barely a minute before. Yifan always tasted slightly bitter, but the kind that cleared the palette, and gave a lingering aftertaste that combined well with their mixed saliva in Yixing's mouth. The younger took the head between his lips, sucking all the precum out of it with an intent that had Yifan's hand gripping tightly at the back of his hair.
Yixing's face burned, images of his husband fucking his mouth until his eyes flooded his mind and filled him with a certain joy at being used, almost degraded, by his husband. It was a animalistic want to be intentionally humiliated by the one who held him dearest that was enough to make Yixing take most of Yifan's length into his mouth with a foreign neediness. A second hand thread its way into his hair and pressed down slightly on his neck, edging more of Yifan into his mouth and throat. Yixing's eyes were clenched shut, his focus solely on his husband's pleasure as he began to bob his head up and down around him.
The other made barely any other movements than guiding Yixing's head back down to where the tip of his cock teased at the back of his throat, it wasn't quite enough for Yixing to receive the satisfaction of the abasement he longed for. Yixing pulled his head away, his breath rasping as his face went to a whole new scale of red, "Fuck my slutty mouth."
Yifan watched him for a few moments before closing his eyes, his hands pushing on the back of Yixing's head to push him back down to where his cock lay in wait and Yixing opened his mouth eagerly to have the member back between his lips. He pushed himself to take as much of Yifan into his saliva slicked cavern as he possibly could without making himself feel as though he was going to be sick. There was yet another pause, one for Yixing to adjust before Yifan held his head firmly in place and moved his hips slowly, at first. The rest progressed up to a strong, timed set of thrusts that had Yixing's eyes lidded around tears and his pupils completely dilated.
He stroked softly at his own bare cock, covering his hand in the dribbling precum to pump his hand up and down himself. It had him moaning lewdly as Yifan's cock began to nudge at his gag reflex, making his throat constrict around the hard head of his husband's shaft and Yifan let out a grumbled moan at the feeling. Yixing pushed himself further down, showing Yifan exactly what he wanted and that was when the elder's hip movements became earnest, harder and faster in his mouth. He could feel his pulse thundering through his lips as they were abused by the edges of the elder's cock, his husband's pleasurable panting had him whining in high pitched vibrations. Yixing's hand hadn't even sped up around himself and yet he could feel the familiar tightening in his abdomen, his fingers slipped down and clasped around the base of his own cock. He let the other use his mouth like he had asked him to, and without even stroking himself anymore, he felt the uncomfortable grips of a dry orgasm hurtle through his body and he felt himself tense.
Everything went rigid, his hand squeezed tighter around himself and Yifan let out a loud, "Fuck," as he felt the tension of Yixing's orgasm around his cock.
The thrusting in and out of his mouth faded to a halt, the member somehow larger and heavier on his tongue than it had been in the beginning and he could feel Yifan's heart racing in the vein that protruded out of the side of his cock. He let himself catch his breath, his body still reeling from the prickles of an unsatisfactory and completely dry orgasm, without the stimulation to his mouth there was barely a minute before he released the almost painful grip on his cock.
Yixing looked up at his husband and observed how the other looked, his hair was still in place and only his ribs gave any signs of the stimulation the actor had been receiving, due to the way he was practically gasping for breath. With his eyes still closed, Yifan groaned, "You're such a fucking whore, letting people fuck your mouth and cumming from it."
Yixing had half a mind to feel horrified by that fact, that had never happened before and for some reason, the difference between the way Yifan had been praising him earlier in the night and the way he was talking down to him then had his stomach churning.
Without trying to give it much thought, Yixing crawled over to their bedside drawer and plucked out a tube of lube they always kept in there. He coated his own fingers in the fluid before rising onto his knees, placing the bottle on the top of the cabinet and his hand next to it. With an easy arch of his back, Yixing moved to insert two of his fingers into himself and he looked around to the floor to ceiling mirror to ensure that he was guiding himself in the right way. He watched his hand dip into his ass and moaned out slightly, he could see exactly how he looked as he touched himself.
His hair was in complete disarray, his lips looked as they were going to burst and his eyes were so heavy that he was surprised that they hadn't shut themselves yet. He moved his hand in and out of himself while being careful to actually stretch himself out and he saw another hand join his reflection in the mirror. Yifan's larger palm pressed down on his spine, rubbing up and down it slightly and Yixing's mouth hung open wantonly. He wanted to look at his husband but he was curious of what Yifan saw whenever Yixing pleasured himself for him, it was something that had his head turning away as he eventually met Yifan's heavy gaze through the mirror.
"You liked watching yourself," spoke a voice beside his ear, making him nod softly against where he rested himself against the bedside table. "Keep doing it, watch yourself be the slut that you are."
Yixing obeyed, he twisted his head around and met eyes with himself for yet another time. He followed the curve of his own body down to where he had begun to thrust in and out of himself eagerly, he moaned into his arm at the sight. There was an added intensity over the fact that Yifan was watching him, touching his spine and breathing so closely to his cheek. He couldn't believe himself, nor could he avoid the fact that it was barely a dignified thing to do, to watch yourself touch yourself and have your spouse act as some kind of voyeur.
He could hear muffled groaning beside his ear and let his stare slip away from himself, he could see Yifan's hand moving behind him and knew his husband was touching his own cock. It had Yixing's mouth watering, the memory of it entering his mouth so fresh on his tongue that his fingers began to move even faster in and out of himself. He forgot about the purposefulness of his actions and was purely seeking more pleasure.
"Yixing, stop," Yifan gasped, making the younger look around at him and he could see the way that sweat had collected on Yifan's brow and he took a quick pause to collect himself before he climbed up onto the bed where Yifan was sat in the centre.
Their lips rejoined in a breathless kiss, Yixing's tired panting flowed like fire between them both as he climbed into the other's lap and ran his hands over his chest. He wasn't exactly sure when Yifan lost his shirt but he was appreciative to finally get the full body contact he had wanted since he'd been stripped naked. Their mouths didn't leave each other as Yixing used his lube coated hand to stroke over Yifan's cock, allowing it to slide between his fingers and there was a soft echo of a moan passed betwixt their lips. He smiled gently as he broke the kiss, pushing Yifan back flat against the bed and he took his time in guiding his husband into himself.
The burn was more than Yixing had expected in his arousal clouded state, the memory of giving up stretching himself open in favour of the fleeting pleasure he had pried from fingering himself. There were only short gasps from the couple, Yifan's hands holding at Yixing's hips before as the younger adjusted to the stretch going on within him. However, it wasn't long until he was grinding gently, letting the haze of lust fall over himself as he allowed the elder to fill him up.
He watched the man below him, their eyes focused on each other as Yixing rocked back and forth. He could feel every movement within him, the way his husband's member twitched as he observed Yixing and there was the firm grip around his hips again. Yifan used his strength to raise Yixing a little, indicating not so subtly to what he was wanting and Yixing pushed his weight up from his knees, feeling Yifan's cock slip out of him and he felt the tip begin to near his entrance. He pressed back down gradually, relishing in the way Yifan's chest stuttered and it wasn't long until he was getting into a rhythm.
Yixing was unleashing loud keens and choral hums as he felt the cock sliding in and out of himself, seeking more pleasure by playing with his own nipples and arching into the touch of pleasuring himself. He found himself withdrawing one hand to place three of his own slender fingers into his mouth and he sucked on them, muffling his own moans as he began to slide them between his lips as he swirled his tongue around them. He could feel Yifan's moans vibrating around the room, echoing as they bounce off the walls and Yixing let his mouth fall open as the head of Yifan's cock nudged against his prostate. His fingers hung themselves on the precipice of his lips and his other hand dug itself into his hair, tugging on it slightly and relying on Yifan's hands on his waist to keep him stable as he rode the other.
"Do you like taking me like this?" Yifan asked, his head tilted back as Yixing continued with his hip movements, "Like a whore."
"Yes," Yixing whined, his fingers crept more into his mouth and his headed nodded again, affirming his sentence.
He always tried to remain firm in his thrusting motions but the fatigue of his drawn out arousal and the events of the evening set in fast, his thighs quivered and there was more grip in Yifan's hands. It was as if he was urging him onwards and that was supported further by the shallow thrusting upwards of his hips and Yixing could respond with nothing but a string of pitched cries. His body was tiring at an alarming rate, his breath losing itself somewhere in his throat and his hands fell down to Yifan's chest to balance himself out. And yet, he still carried on with his movements as best as he could.
"Keep going," the actors rasped encouragement fizzled in the air, "Keep fucking yourself on my cock."
Yixing nodded, always agreeing and never denying. He continued onwards, right until he could do nothing but grind again. He rocked back and forth, his eyes completely fogged with the need to release and the body below him moved, pressing him into the mattress with a strong grapple. His head hit the pillows, the feeling soothing his tired bones but the reprieve faded as Yifan began to thrust into him.
With only the focus on the pleasure flooding inside of himself, Yixing felt himself grow more able to move his body in slight movements to help to chase both of their orgasms. It was like an infinite harmony, and everything was warm and distorted as his husband fucked into his pliant body. Yifan leant forward and pressed his mouth along his throat, never sucking or properly kissing it but placing pressure over all of the right places. There was a growling noise as Yixing lifted one of his knees up to bend his leg and allow Yifan to reach deeper, it wasn't long until his prostate was being thoroughly abused by the elder's cock. He hung his mouth open in a silent but very desperate cry as his fingers fought for purchase on his husband's back, often missing their gripping mark of his shoulder blades and dragging down in prominent scratch marks.
Yifan's groans vibrated through his throat, his large hand fighting its way between them to jerk Yixing. The relief of having his cock touched, felt and manhandled by his husband had his eyes clenching and fingers digging in deeper to the elder's back. He was so close, verging right on the cliff of his own orgasm and he could feel himself climbing higher, higher and higher.
The actor kissed his neck, trailing them up along his jaw until he could curve them up to his lips and the composer had his mouth open and waiting for the elder, taking his tongue naturally and that's all it took to send him hurtling into seventh heaven. Yixing released between their bodies in a hectic rush of heat, electricity and loud cries into the other's mouth. He felt like he was erupting, the thick ropes of cum that spurted out of him doused his stomach in white and he felt himself convulsing slightly, the aftershocks had him clenching around Yifan's still moving cock but he could hear the characteristic raise in pitch of the taller's moans as he, too, was close to colliding with a heightened sense of pleasure.
Yifan came then. His cum surged and spilled into Yixing, filling all the small gaps that his member couldn't fill and the younger whined at the sensation of it. Yifan shallowed his thrusts but didn't stop, as his ejaculate was still pumping steadily into the younger and his entire body was seized and captured by pleasure.
They stayed joined until Yifan went completely limp inside Yixing; the elder supporting his weight over the other as they both fought for oxygen. Even when he did pull out, he did so with care because of their shared hypersensitivity and he laid out beside Yixing's spent body, their duvet crumpling beneath them and Yixing felt some fingers run through his hair.
"Are you okay?" Yifan asked, his fingers moving down to run over Yixing's lips gently.
"Of course." Yixing smiled, his eyes closing at the soft touches left on his face.
"I didn't say anything wrong, right?" Yifan asked, his voice less confident than it had been for the rest of the night.
"No, everything was perfect," Yixing nodded. "I really like it."
They were quiet for numerous minutes, leading Yixing to believe that Yifan had fallen asleep beside him but when he opened his eyes and turned his head, he found eyes looking back at him with none of the tension that had been there previously.
"I appreciate you doing that for me, whenever we do it," Yixing whispered, making the elder look down his lips and nod his head. "I know you can't look me in the eyes when you say most of that stuff, even if I'm looking straight at you."
"I don't mind if it makes you happy."
Yixing shuffled forward and kissed the elder's lips gently. "Few people would be willing to put their own preferences aside to accommodate a kink like mine."
Yifan's hand moved to Yixing's stomach and he dipped one of his fingers into the cum that was slowly drying there, taking it out and drawing a wet heart shape on Yixing's chest in it, "It's because I love you."
"That's the weirdest thing I think you've ever done," Yixing squawked, "both hygienically and sentimentally."
"Says the man whose kink is to be called a bitch," Yifan jibed with a smile, which made Yixing playfully hit his shoulder.
“ Shut up ,” Yixing huffed out. “You got pretty into it too at one point.”
“You mean that mirror part?” Yifan asked, a single eyebrow raised up in questioning.
“Could you blame me? It was quite the sight to watch you do that,” Yifan shrugged, still smiling and Yixing edged closer to him. “It is still taking a lot of getting used to, to call you all that stuff, so that was a little something for me to be excited by.. But don’t worry, it's okay, I just hope it distracted you enough from all the people around us.”
“It really did, thank you,” Yixing beamed, cuddling into Yifan’s chest adoringly. “I love you.”
“I love you too, humiliation kink and all."
It was quiet in the house, only a lock clicking in the door as Yifan shut it behind him and Yixing moved away from the large windows that backed onto their garden where he had been watching the small solar lights glint on their patio. His body was still recovering from the previous night, though it was far better than it had been when he had first woken up as Yifan left for his most recent filming set. The composer didn't rush to greet the other, instead he opted for meeting him in the kitchen with a smile and maybe even a small kiss at the side of his husband's mouth.
Yifan was bare faced and fluffy haired when he saw him, all traces of his acting personas gone as his face stretched into a grin at the sight of the younger. It made Yixing's stomach melt and be in disbelief that the man in front of him was the same that had driven him beyond the point of sound judgement the night prior. It had always been that way, almost having Yixing convince himself that his lewd mouthed husband was all a part of his imagination and that only the soft, caring Yifan really existed. The only proof he had came in the form of his aching hips, his hoarse throat and Yifan's scratched back.
He pushed the memories down as Yifan kissed his forehead with a quiet, "Hello," to match.
"How was work?" Yixing mumbled, merely watching as Yifan moved to make himself some food to eat.
"It was okay," he shrugged, making the younger watch him more intently as the other stared into the pantry with a serious expression.
Yixing knew the code when Yifan talked about work, 'okay' meant that he filmed scenes that he didn't particularly enjoy, like kisses and more R rated things. The elder had explained that it used to be a perk of the job, being able to kiss numerous women in take after take but since they had begun dating, Yifan had confessed that he couldn't get his scenes right because he wasn't kissing somebody with soft hair, a deep dimple and a lean body. That didn't mean that Yixing didn't feel those little jabs of jealousy that Yifan's onscreen kisses were recorded and broadcast for everybody to see.
"Maybe tomorrow will be better," Yixing rubbed his shoulder and the other shrugged.
Just like normal, Yixing left Yifan to prepare his late night meal in favour of sorting out the actor's day bag. There were the usual items lining the leather with the odd bank note, a change of clothes and the thick wad of paper that his script was printed onto. Yixing was surprised to feel the glossy pages of magazines as his hands dipped in, he tugged them out and frowned when he saw Yifan's unmistakable form on the front page. He flipped through to the centrefold and was slightly shocked to see photos of inside his own home, people everywhere and Yixing himself printed in the ink. There were plenty of small headers going on about how the two of them appeared to be a match made in heaven, accented with images of them pressed to each other's sides; they showed Yifan looking down at him like he was the only person in the room and the moments when they’d shared small kisses while they thought nobody was watching were all documented too.
He was glad it wasn't one of the cheap tabloids that often spewed out rumours about Yifan, it was one of the ones with firmer paper and pleasing typography. Each of the shots were filled with warmth, tinted with an ethereal edit of pearl white and Yixing couldn't believe that the images were candid shots of their natural relationship. Even he could see in the photographs that he fit perfectly at his husband's side. However, Yixing could also see the pink dusting to his cheeks and where his shirt had unfurled under Yifan's hands nearer the end of the night. If he viewed the images without context, then he'd take the rouging on his face as a timid response to praise, not the hot flush of muttered words in his ear.
His body spread with warmth at the memories, sparking to something sharper as hands touched teasingly over his thighs, "Looking at yourself, are you? Is this a new thing for you after last night."
"No," Yixing lied before biting down on his tongue, a natural reaction to the feeling of Yifan's lips right over his ear.
"Liar," Yifan blew out, "I think you're remembering what I said to you and you're liking it again. It was probably the best distraction for you from all those people."
"Shut up," Yixing hissed but he turned his head to kiss Yifan in their quiet house. He turned on his heel, pushed his husband down onto one of the chairs, letting his fingers play at the collar of the other's shirt. "And anyway, you're awfully teasing for somebody who claims to not get into my kink."
“That little mirror show you gave me was completely worth it.”
Yifan was halfway between smirking and smiling, making Yixing's heart thunder away in his chest, pushing more of the dull arousal that had been there to the surface of his skin and there it boiled into lust.
His mouth would never admit that he liked certain things during sex but as he pulled his own shirt off, he knew his body always would be honest with what it liked. There was a vast dichotomy between Yixing when he was with people and when he was alone with Yifan, nobody would believe it unless shown and he thrived off that. They both did. Yixing was certain that his introverted demeanour often led people to believe that he was softer and less inclined to be tempted by dirty words. And yet, he was. He could always be coaxed into letting himself go with the right kind of tension. Yifan knew it too, maybe it was in the way that he leaned into every word whispered in his ear, pressed himself into every touch and let himself fill with a heated sense of something more purely because Yifan was the person applying all the gratifying pressure. Even if Yifan openly admitted that he didn’t share Yixing’s kink. It was easy to read what he wanted and he wanted Yifan.
He would never stop wanting Yifan.