Silence has fallen on their conversation. Reinhard is sitting back, more casually than he was before, when their ideologies were battling with words. He's finished his tea, but Yang hasn't. He takes his time, slowly sips, and looks back at Reinhard. It's been minutes since they've spoken, but by being in his presence, Yang is still trapped under Reinhard's seductive spell. Though they disagree and will therefore always be rivals, the even greater ways they agree has Yang recalling his dreams of how they could have been the best of friends in another life. Reinhard's gaze only grows more powerful, and the intensity is starting to wear on Yang in an unnatural way. When Reinhard makes a strange movement with his mouth, Yang doesn't understand why the other man is very likely biting his own lip on the inside. He decides to focus on the tea instead. If Reinhard wants to say something, he will eventually. If not, that's fine too. Yang has said everything he feels necessary already, so as far as he's concerned, their meeting is over. He just hasn't been relieved. Maybe for courtesy? Since Yang still has his tea. Reinhard has been fidgeting with the locket around his neck impatiently for minutes. Maybe he should gulp his drink and leave.
Reinhard breaks the silence. "May I speak frankly?” He sits forward also.
"Your Excellency needn’t ask permission, but please do." Yang smiles kindly, glad to hear finally why their meeting has dragged on.
"I'm attracted to you." Yang stops with the cup just a millimeter from his mouth, not sure what such words could mean, so he examines Reinhard's eyes for needed clarity. There's something indescribable in those eyes: fire and ice at the same time, potent to a degree he’s never seen before. Before he can look away, Reinhard continues, "Sexually."
Yang spits the tea he was holding in his mouth back into the cup and stares, more perplexed than he has ever been. Has he fallen down a rabbit hole or did he not hear those very clear words correctly? His hands tremble when he places the cup back on the table. Thankfully, he doesn't drop it. Not so thankfully, Reinhard has taken the liberty of steadying his hand as the cup makes contact with the saucer. The clang is louder than necessary. Reinhard's hand is still on Yang's. The touch is unwelcome considering the man’s previous statement, but at the same time a curiosity Yang can't turn down, even as he examines the situation.
What trickery is this? Reinhard has the universe in his hand now. A million reasons why such a man would say such a thing are flying through Yang's mind. This was never a scenario he had considered. Even now, as reality charges it into his mindscape, he has nothing which he can process to come to a sensible conclusion. He chooses to look up, into those blue eyes, and it feels like something has stung him. He looks away again almost immediately; unused to the intensity. Reinhard's lingering touch on his hand turns into a grip on his wrist and Yang is pulled forward. "Am I scaring you, Fleet Admiral?"
"Yes." The word flies from his mouth in a way nothing has before. Usually he is a master of countenance and precision, and restraint. He has shocked himself and can't look up, even though Reinhard lets out a slight laugh. The younger sounds amused, much different than moments ago when he was austere and reticent. Yang chances a look up, to see a mischievous grin on Reinhard's face. Surely it isn't a look he allows others to see often, if ever. Such a look would have one thrown out of any military pronto.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
If Reinhard is going to be so daring, it musters up the courage in Yang to speak equally freely. "Perhaps you're unused to saying those words. But they lack sincerity."
"You're right. I don't apologize often. Consider it a slip of the tongue."
"It seems unlikely, again, for that to be true."
"I'm not sorry then," Reinhard admits, and pulls Yang's hand forcefully, all of a sudden, so that Yang topples onto the table, making cups and a flower arrangement go flying. He'd never been particularly coordinated. When he's found his balance again and looks up, Reinhard is towering over him. As a cherry on top of the ordeal, Reinhard takes him by the chin and cranes Yang's neck up to the maximum. "Would it be so bad being in my bed?"
Yang's brows cross. He pushes Reinhard's hand off him and stands to face him.
He’s had enough of this game. Never during all his admiration did he think Reinhard was capable of this beavior. "What's gotten into you? Surely this isn't in your nature. Surely you realize the perversity you've uttered." Reinhard's expression hardly changes and Yang can't look into those eyes anymore. He wipes a spill off the front of his uniform and adjusts his clothing back into place. Then makes to step away but Reinhard has beat him to the motion and stands in his way. Again he invades Yang's personal space and takes his chin, commanding his attention.
"Do you not find me attractive?"
The question is posed with a raised eyebrow, and Yang is given ample time to answer. He wants to say no, but the word gets stuck in his throat, making him ponder further. Then he wants to say yes, but not sexually. And as he's looking back at Reinhard, suddenly that's not true either. Then he wants to say, "yes, even sexually, but," and qualify that in a way that is proper and will end this preposterous encounter, to spare some of his dignity. But even that no longer sounds true. Should he lie? Can he make Reinhard believe it? Does he want to lie? Yang swallows uneasily, and Reinhard steps closer. It seems Reinhard has found his answer in Yang's eyes before Yang has even made up his mind.
"I want to fuck you."
"Your Excellency—!" The thought of what Reinhard has declared so brazenly terrifies him and he wants to run away but his body has frozen in shock. He can’t escape the images sparked in his mind: Reinhard von Lohengramm, naked, lustful, and aroused—his treacherous thoughts must be printed on his forehead.
Reinhard smirks and in the next second he's connected their lips. It's rough and hot, and Yang can sense inexperience mixed in. He's analyzing the kiss, the feel of Reinhard’s mouth against his, and suddenly he realizes he needs to stop it. He pushes Reinhard away. "Don’t," he says, but he’s become so weak, the protest is completely disposable.
"By your own words, there is no need for me to ask permission." Reinhard moves in again, claims Yang's lips, holds him steady by the head, and though Yang raises a hand to push the man away again, it loses resolve partway and just settles on Reinhard's shoulder. "Don't say no," Reinhard says in a break between their lips. The silky softness of those words is loosening the guard Yang still has up. Reinhard is a master at undoing people, making them bend to this will.
"Why should I say yes?" Yang scoffs; the ease with which Reinhard has manipulated him is laughable.
"Because the last person I kissed has died." This honesty is a fatal stab to the last bulwark holding Yang back from allowing Reinhard closer. The look in Reinhard’s eyes is heartbreak, plain and simple, and it has melted him. All defenses abandoned, Yang is kissing back now. He can't deny this temptation. No matter how much this needs to stop, Reinhard has mangled his heart and Yang loses the will to leave.
"That's not a pattern I'd like to follow," Yang returns solemnly.
Somehow, between their eyes, there's a truce, an understanding. After the moment, Reinhard pulls at Yang's hand, showing he's meant to follow, and heads for the door on the other side of the room. They walk, through two other empty rooms before they reach a bedroom, and Reinhard shuts the door behind them.
"Strip," Reinhard orders.
Reinhard acts like he hasn't heard the reply. He divests himself of his own clothes, until he's standing before Yang in only pants, and Yang's mouth is so dry he can barely swallow. This is moving too fast and Reinhard is always one step ahead. Reinhard approaches then, brings hands up to the collar of Yang's jacket and says, "Start with this." It's automatic when Yang reaches to help and starts undoing the very buttons Reinhard had started on. When the jacket falls, Reinhard makes for the buttons on Yang's shirt, and once again Yang replaces him, undoing the buttons instead, until Reinhard pushes the shirt off his shoulders and runs a hand down his bare torso.
"You're a little thin, Fleet Admiral. Do you eat well enough?" he remarks.
"I'm predisposed to forgetting those sorts of things when I work."
"My friend used to make me eat in times like those too." Reinhard pauses in remembrance for a moment, too short a moment, before he steals Yang’s mouth fiercely for another kiss, pulls him forward by the belt buckle so their bodies touch and wraps arms around him. In return, Yang brings a hand to Reinhard’s face, and kisses back softly. Instead of stopping, he’s just trying to slow down their progression now. Everything is moving too fast, he has no time to think. Though, if he were thinking properly, he's sure he wouldn't be here in the spider's web. He doesn’t want to think about where these actions lead. Even so, he lets Reinhard's tongue invade his mouth and can't help a small moan at the feeling. Reinhard seems pleased. Maybe he likes the conquest, Yang wonders.
Reinhard actually has rather cold hands, when he touches, it makes the hair rise along Yang's skin, but it burns all the same.
From his movements, Yang conjectures that Reinhard has not kissed or been intimate with many people in his life. The thought is not surprising but it's seductive and piques his curiosity in a way that's contributing to Yang not throwing the man off of him the way he should. It's not that he's interested in Reinhard's virginity, more like, why the man has chosen him. It seems thoroughly masochistic to choose to bed your enemy, and even more so after the deadly wars they’ve waged. There have been so many moments where either could have died at the hands of the other. Instead of disgust, it makes Yang's heart break, and his emotion pours out as he kisses Reinhard more forcefully. He's forgotten about not wanting this. He can't deny that Reinhard is beautiful, and all the years he's spent dissecting and trying to invade his mind, to exact a battle victory against him, has left him receptive to the feelings Reinhard is flooding him with. As he reasons why he's still here, why he's threading a hand into golden locks to bring them closer, he feels intimate affection for this man. He's known him for so long even though they have only just met. Everything is either confirmation or something he feels he should have known. It's a war of sense and sensibility, and he's losing both in this bedroom.
When Yang gets too tender, Reinhard pushes him down on the bed and undoes his pants. "These are coming off," he says as he pulls at them. Yang helps until the only article of clothing left to him are his little white briefs. Reinhard hasn't touched those yet, instead he climbs over Yang, straddles him and pursues his mouth again. They've gotten the hang of kissing each other and the excitement heightens. It's no longer awkward or tentative. Yang can't help the arousal that's formed in his lap, right below Reinhard's own, which he can now feel pressed fervidly against his own hardness, even through the remaining layers of material between them. Reinhard's pants are straining, and it's making the friction between them as they rub together a bit too rough.
Yang has no idea why, but he's moved to kissing the other man's neck, like a lover would. He's propped up on an elbow trying to chase his skin, until he flips Reinhard down so he can kiss and suck at his exposed neck better this way. It’s allowed, but not for nearly long enough before Yang is toppled backwards again with Reinhard retaking the top. He receives a bitten lip and a particularly harsh thrust of the hips as a punishment. A hiss and harder arousal is the reward.
The push and pull of the way they touch feels strangely akin to the way they meet in battle. Reinhard always wants to be on top. Yang wonders if there's ever a time that's not true. His desire to be dominant and in charge is charming and captivating, though somewhat childish, and Yang thinks maybe the age difference between them was finally showing.
"You'll let me fuck you, won't you?"
This isn't about the battlefield or governance. This is strictly between them; two people, both a little broken when it comes to love.
"Leave me only with emotional scars and you can." Reinhard gives him an odd look for the remark. "I have a fiance to return to," Yang explains.
Again Reinhard pauses to consider. "It would be worse at this point if I were to let you go." Worse for whom? And why? Yang thinks one last time that he should go, he should stop this. But he's here now, so close to a climax that it would soil the pages of history for him to back down. That's how he rations his actions now, because this is truly irrational what he's doing. What he's allowing. Reinhard might be a good hand-to-hand fighter, definitely better than Yang, but if he wanted to stop this, even in an enemy camp, he could. If the gravity behind his refusal were to be sincere, Reinhard would let him go. He's been too deep inside the man's mind not to know such things. But that's also what holds him here, wanting to see the end of this story.
Reinhard is breathing into his neck, rutting their hips together, running a hand over Yang's body. It's lovesick the way he touches; it sends shivers down Yang's spine.
When he reaches Yang's underwear, he pulls intentionally hard and they rip. He pulls again and the fabric comes off completely. "Don't worry. A few bruises will heal." He gives Yang a few good stokes as consolation. Reinhard concentrates as he opens and lowers his own pants and underwear, but doesn't bother lowering them past his pelvis. Maybe he doesn't want to be fully naked. He touches himself, then joins them together in one hand and Yang watches, mesmerized.
"Take everything off," Yang says. His voice is affected and quiet, his breathing is shallow, and his eyes glazed. When Reinhard regards him for having spoken, he does so with narrowed eyes as if trying to figure out what Yang's ulterior motive is, looking for why he shouldn't oblige. In the end, he throws off the last of his clothing so they really are both naked, but it seems to come at a cost. Reinhard doesn't seem to have taken well to fulfilling the request.
He shoves two fingers into Yang's mouth and says, "Suck well, otherwise it'll hurt." Yang makes a noise of protest at the invasion. Farther, Reinhard pushes his fingers down Yang's throat until Yang chokes, but keeps the fingers in his mouth until Yang sucks. That kind of thick lubricating spit is what they need. Yang is preparing himself mentally for what he's about to lose.
Every time Yang meets Reinhard's eyes, there's something in them that makes him give in to this moment more. He allows his body to be manhandled, his legs to be pushed wide and open, knees up, and allows Reinhard between them. He receives Reinhard’s fingers to suck again, and this time when they leave his mouth they reach beyond Yang's perineum. He's given next to no warning when Reinhard sinks a finger into him, and too soon after, a second. Yang has a scowl on his brow but makes no more than a grunt. It's uncomfortable and nerve-racking being treated like this, yet he spreads his legs further. The kid above him is either inept or impatient, but when Yang looks at him he can't tell him no. They've come too far tonight. Instead, he grabs his own dick and fists it to try and achieve some pleasure.
Yang has his eyes closed, focusing on jacking himself off as compensation, and therefore he feels no warning before Reinhard pushes into him. Until he does. And Yang feels it so acutely he drops his arms to the sides to grab hard at the sheets.
The wetness where they’re connected is completely inadequate. It's too tight, and uncomfortable, and painful. Painful enough that Yang is drawing blood from the hand he's brought up to his own mouth to silence himself. And the more Reinhard pushes into him, the worse it gets. He wants to back down now but he won't. He can bear this. He's still not sure why he's determined to, but he is. So he pulls Reinhard down to his lips, to kiss as a distraction and it makes Reinhard slam all the way into him before he gives him his kiss. Yang's expletive is swallowed between them. He's sure something tore, but at the same time, Reinhard hit a spot inside him that shot fire up his spine in a completely different way. And the way their hips are angled now—surely a stroke of luck—has Reinhard’s dick rubbing right over that special place. He repeats the action, again, and again. Their lips are in contact, tongues jolting to life between thrusts, but mostly they exchange breath and grunts as Reinhard drives into him repeatedly. The pain fades into numbness and primal carnal pleasure replaces it as the primary sensation. Yang's thighs are completely numb and he's sure he will have trouble walking after this, but there is pleasure; enough that his arousal lays stiff between them, until Reinhard takes it upon himself to give it a few jerks. He's not dutiful enough to keep it going for long. He forgets when his own pleasure takes over and he pulls Yang's body to his, bends him nearly double and fucks steadily now, hard and deep, as if he's done this part of the ritual before. Yang isn't sure if it's too late or too soon that Reinhard grabs his throat and finishes inside him. Either way, Yang isn't satisfied. Reinhard doesn't squeeze harshly, but until his orgasm subsides, the hand stays on Yang's neck.
When Reinhard pulls out he falls to Yang's side, and all Yang does is plant his feet to the mattress and lay a hand over his own dick. To subside his erection.
"Can you come?"
Yang closes his eyes at the question. It's not something he should try to chase in this situation, yet he's sure he can. His legs remain bent and open, in fear that it'll hurt were he to lie normally; so it's easy for Reinhard to wipe a hand through the mess they've made, and bring the hand to Yang's erection. The new lubrication feels better than anything he's felt in his whole life—it's this whole night, mixed with the fact that it's finally the right feeling on his dick—that has Yang coming in Reinhard's hand after only a few tugs. His body feels like a puddle afterwards. He hasn't moved his legs yet, so the pain below hasn't hit him fully, but for now, as he opens his eyes and looks at Reinhard's profile, he feels a sense of satisfactory completion.
It's too little time before Reinhard moves, lifts off the bed and gathers their clothing from the floor. It means Yang must also get up. Pain shoots up his spine and down to his toes but it's not nearly what it felt like when they were entwined, so he pretends not to feel it and stands. Albeit on weak legs. There's a spot of blood on the bedsheets, which Reinhard also sees. His eyes linger on it for longer than Yang, who looks away.
They start to dress. Yang picks up his damaged underwear and in reply Reinhard hands him a useable pair. "Here. Wear mine instead." Yang reaches for them even though he should refuse. Like this entire night. Gingerly, Yang slips them on. "Isn't my fault your army wears white pants," Reinhard derides. And Yang actually laughs. It's the first thing they've said all night to each other that mocks the incompetent governments and bureaucracy they both wish they could taunt so openly. He wants to make a joke in return, how his underwear were not army-issue so there was no need to abuse them; but when he looks up at Reinhard again he can feel that in fact, the man's patience has run out and that was the last straw. That's why it was too candid a comment. And if Yang were to say something witty now he wouldn't be rewarded with any humor or smile.
He has no intention of seeing Reinhard upset for any other reason than foiling a battle plan, so he says nothing further.
Reinhard has dressed with more efficiency and he waits by the door for Yang to tie his shoelaces. By this time, Reinhard looks almost livid behind the composure he's dressed in.
Yang leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and they never meet again.
At the last moment, Reinhard turns to see Yang's back disappear into a hallway and Reinhard feels he's lost something again. He's always losing to Yang Wenli.