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Gu Yun pays more attention to the Fourth Prince these days. Not just because he’s concerned for Chang Geng’s well-being—he’s concerned for his own. He’s always had a keen sense of danger, and he knows the slightest change in Chang Geng’s mood, the slightest tilt of his smile, could result in him pressed against the nearest wall, utterly helpless.
Today, he sees Chang Geng is tired.
“You don’t have to serve me breakfast so early,” Gu Yun says, sitting down. “The servants will forget how to do it if you don’t let them work.”
Chang Geng sets down the tray. “It’s okay if they forget. I can serve you every morning.” His voice is as wicked as ever, but there’s a distance in his gaze, a heaviness in his movements. The morning sunlight touches him gently, as if hesitant to reveal the strong lines of his face, his graceful hands.
Gu Yun picks up the bowl of noodles. “You slept poorly. Should take better care of yourself.”
“Zi Xi is very observant.” Chang Geng sits next to him, close enough that Gu Yun feels his warmth through the cool morning air. “I was troubled by dreams.”
“Nightmares?”
“Not those old delusions. Just a memory.” He smiles slowly. “Zi Xi was in it.”
Gu Yun took his medicine yesterday morning, and the requisite migraine has already passed. Why does he feel a headache building anyway? He makes a polite, “Huh,” sound and continues eating, attempting to silently convey: Keep your spring dreams to yourself, we can’t skip court again this week, you insufferable brat.
But Chang Geng seems not to understand; he shamelessly adjusts the collar of Gu Yun’s robe, nearly causing him to choke. “I was dreaming of the time we infiltrated the false merchants on the Eastern Sea.”
Benign enough. Maybe he’s being paranoid—expecting despicable behavior around every corner. “That donkey monk shouldn’t have involved you. If I’d known...” Even if he’d known then what hands stirred the ladle, he still doesn’t know what more he could have done to keep the pot from boiling over. “Don’t dwell on past dangers. We have enough for today.”
“Zi Xi’s wise as always.” Chang Geng rises and rests his hand on Gu Yun’s shoulder. His palm is warm through the thin fabric of Gu Yun’s robe, and the edge of his finger is blazing-hot against the bare skin of his neck. “But I was really just thinking of yifu dressed as the fragrance master.”
Gu Yun stills, alert to the change of address.
Chang Geng breathes hot in his ear, “I liked the blindfold a lot.”
***
They share a carriage into the capital. They don’t speak, each saving breath for the long day ahead: court attendance, council meetings, an afternoon party at that rich man Du’s estate, which Chang Geng says they must attend.
Gu Yun looks out the window, at the greenery and ash, the old homes and the new repairs. He feels a strange kinship with the city they drive through. The country he fights for. He too is a collection of old bones and bruises, stitched together with iron, held up by younger hands.
Chang Geng looks at Gu Yun.
Ever since Gu Yun’s surrender, the insolent brat has stopped even pretending not to stare when they’re alone. In public, he behaves more or less decorously. But in private, as they are now, Gu Yun feels his gaze like a Giant Kite’s blazing fins across the carriage, the radiant heat simmering across his skin.
Chang Geng’s desire is palpable, constant. They sit across from each other, not touching at all, yet Gu Yun feels his every breath filling the enclosed carriage. Chang Geng shifts, hums under his breath, and Gu Yun feels it like phantom fingers along his thigh. He keeps his own gaze firmly trained out the window, as if he can thus hide from unfilial eyes.
Maybe the shield of a blindfold would be a relief after all.
***
They stand next to each other at the Grand Council meeting, where Chang Geng is the model of grace and professionalism.
He’s also right there. Just a sleeve’s width away, where Gu Yun can hear him, see him, smell him. When he turns to answer a councillor’s question and bares the strong line of his neck, Gu Yun remembers the taste of him.
“Marquis?” a minister prompts.
Gu Yun shakes himself. “Apologies, your question…” He turns to listen very diligently to as the minister repeats what he had been saying. But even as he answers, he can’t avoid the smugness radiating from His Highness the Fourth Brat’s exalted figure.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, Gu Yun thinks, chastising himself for his distraction, chastising Chang Geng for standing so close. He recovers his composure with all the battle-born courage he can muster.
A map of Great Liang spreads across the table. Gu Yun reaches to indicate a spot on it as he explains his strategy. And in answering, Chang Geng also gestures at the map, and his movement brushes his fingertips across Gu Yun’s knuckles. The touch ignites once more the fire in Gu Yun’s veins. He forgets what he was going to say next, his thoughts consumed by the shifting air between them.
Gritting his teeth, Gu Yun resolves to have his revenge before the day is done.
***
The afternoon sky is a clear porcelain blue, and a light breeze stirs the fragrant blossoms. Du Wan Quan’s garden is supremely elegant, full of white and pink in bloom. A delicate waterfall feeds a stream that winds through the floral beauty.
Gu Yun accepts a cup of wine—he’s just trying to drink less, not shaving his head and moving to a mountaintop.
He’s used to gatherings at court, where his every move is suspect, or with his Black Iron Camp, where his every word is a life and death order. It’s almost a relief to hang out with this group of minor merchants, who all seem far too intimidated by him to exchange more than polite pleasantries. That’s probably why he and Chang Geng are there, anyway—to impress the other guests. Not every merchant can be God of Wealth Du, who has retreated to a corner with Chang Geng.
Lin Yuan Pavilion scheming, no doubt.
He takes advantage of a moment alone to slip towards the back of the garden. The waterfall is very pretty, and three fat, orange carp swim lazily through the stream. Their bright scales flash here and there, occasionally hidden by the broad lotus blossoms on the water’s surface.
It might be nice to have carp, after all this is over. When they have a little village to themselves. He’ll have fewer flowers in the stream, so he can watch the fish more clearly.
No. So he can sit deaf and blind on the rocks and smell the green air and trail his fingers through the cool water, while Chang Geng traces words on his other palm, telling him what the carp are doing and what the waterfall sounds like and what he’d like to do to him after the sun goes down—
Life on the battlefield has made Gu Yun a realistic man. Even in his sentimental fantasies, Chang Geng remains the insatiable wolf.
As if summoned by the thought, familiar footsteps tap on the stone walkway behind him. Gu Yun finishes his wine before turning around.
The overhanging trees diffuse the steep afternoon sunlight; Chang Geng seems to glow, like he is another lotus blossom unfurling in the garden. Beautiful to look at, too beautiful to touch. Gu Yun wonders if anyone else could see the predatory fire in his eyes.
“Finished your meeting?” he asks neutrally.
Chang Geng takes the empty wine cup from him and sets it aside. “Yes, we can go home now. The day is getting late.”
Gu Yun gestures. “I was enjoying the garden.”
Chang Geng shakes his head. “You’re wearing too little. The day is getting cold, and you’ll distract me with worrying.”
Worrying. Well, that’s one word for it.
Gu Yun considers whether it’s time to enact his revenge yet, but Chang Geng moves more quickly than he can. He draws a flower from his sleeve and presses it gently into Gu Yun’s palm, moving far too slowly, his hands lingering hot against Gu Yun’s skin. He still holds Gu Yun’s hand as he murmurs, “This reminded me of you. Keep it to enjoy the garden as we go home.”
“So thoughtful,” Gu Yun manages, glancing over Chang Geng’s shoulder to make sure none of the merchants are approaching. His hand feels like it’s on fire, but he maintains his composure. If Chang Geng hopes to reduce him to a trembling mess, he’ll have to work harder than this!
He reclaims his hand and holds up the flower—such a delicate blue blossom, he really doesn’t know why it would remind Chang Geng of him. But he tucks it in his sleeve anyway, and then smiles. “And how convenient, I have a gift for you too.”
Chang Geng’s eyes light up. “Zi Xi is too kind.”
Gu Yun puts on an expression like an iron mask. “I found a free moment to visit the silk market this afternoon,” he says, withdrawing his prize from his sleeve. Placing it in Chang Geng’s hands, he finishes, “This reminded me of you.”
The black silk scarf drapes like a ribbon of night in Chang Geng’s pale hands. The silk is fine, yet so tightly woven, it hangs heavily from his fingers. Chang Geng stares down at it for a moment, as if he doesn’t understand.
Then he does, and his princely face flushes red. “This—this is—”
“A scarf,” Gu Yun says properly. Then he steps forward, claps Chang Geng on the shoulder, and whispers into his bright red ear, “Unless you have a better use for it.”
Before Chang Geng can recover, Gu Yun moves past him. He retrieves his wine cup and returns to the rest of the party, seeking a refill and some conversation.
It’s another hour before Chang Geng manages to abduct him back home.
***
In retrospect, he’s lucky Chang Geng waits until they’re in the bedroom. One moment Gu Yun’s taking his shoes off, the next he’s drowning in a kiss like liquid fire. Chang Geng’s all over him, hands broad and warm against his waist. Gu Yun reaches up, intending to push him away, but somehow his fingers weave into dark silk hair instead. He pulls Chang Geng’s hair from its ties as Chang Geng pulls his breath from his lungs and ignites it in golden flames.
The brat’s gotten much better at this, Gu Yun thinks hazily as Chang Geng kisses the corner of his lip, the upper bow. Licks teasingly at his lips before diving back into him. Every tender, playful movement seems earnestly calculated to drive him insane.
By the time Chang Geng lets him breathe, the room is dark. Everything’s in shadows except for Chang Geng’s eyes, which glitter like stars. Chang Geng touches Gu Yun’s lips with burning fingers, then leans in for another soft kiss.
When he pulls away again, the scant inches of space aren’t enough to breathe in. It feels like they’re still kissing. Like they’ll never stop.
Chang Geng moves, his eyes still locked on Gun Yun as they separate. He reaches without looking and lights a lamp by the bed. Then he pulls the length of black silk from his sleeve. His lips part like he’s about to ask permission, but he doesn’t say anything.
Gu Yun licks his suddenly dry lips. “Is this all you do in your dreams? Stare at me?”
Chang Geng jumps a little. “Some of my dreams, yes.” He moves closer, not quite concealing the eager nervousness in his eyes. “But not my dream last night. Zi Xi, can I…” He winds the silk through his fingers, twisting and playing with it.
Gu Yun can’t bring himself to answer out loud. He closes his eyes and nods his permission.
Chang Geng groans and flies to him again. The barest taste of a kiss to his mouth, before the kisses fall like snow over his face, dotting his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes. A hotter, slower kiss along his jaw, warm breath in his ear, and Gu Yun feels the word humming through his heart before Chang Geng murmurs, “Yifu.”
Yifu, yifu. His disobedient prince makes it impossible to forget how twisted this is. He’s given up on protesting it; once Chang Geng gets started, there’s nothing Gu Yun can do to make him use a different name.
And, fine. He isn’t into it. But there’s something seductive about the reverence in Chang Geng’s voice, the tenderness in his touch—
He rests his head back on Chang Geng’s broad shoulder, conscious of the way the movement bares his neck. “You were so tired this morning. We could just sleep instead…”
Chang Geng just laughs and presses the silk into his hands. “Hold this,” he says, and begins gently undoing Gu Yun’s hair. After letting it all down, he combs through the loose strands with his fingers. Massages his scalp, the back of his neck, with firm, warm touches that send shivers down Gu Yun’s spine.
Gu Yun just holds the soft silk, already warm from Chang Geng’s touch. He’s tempted, insanely, to press it to his nose and see if it smells like him yet.
Chang Geng kisses the top of his head—when the hell did he get so tall—and takes the blindfold back. “Yifu, keep your eyes closed.”
The silk falls feather-light against his brow first, then the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. A gentle pressure over his eyelids. Gu Yun finds himself holding his breath as the blindfold settles more firmly over his features. He chances opening his eyes just a crack. He can still see faint lamplight through the silk, which is somewhat a relief. He’s happy to play along with Chang Geng’s fantasy, but give the boy an inch and he’ll devour a mile. Being able to sneak a peek here and there will help him keep some measure of—
Chang Geng holds one tail of the blindfold firmly to the back of his head. Then he wraps it slowly around. The silk is long enough to circle his head twice. Gu Yun tries opening his eyes again, and inhales sharply. With two layers of finely woven silk across his eyes, he can’t see at all.
Chang Geng adjusts the silk, pulling the edges taut. “Is that comfortable?”
Comfortable isn’t the word Gu Yun would have chosen, but it doesn’t rub or pinch anywhere. “Have you been practicing blindfolding people?”
Chang Geng pushes his hair aside and kisses his neck. “Only in my dreams.” He runs his hands down Gu Yun’s arms, rubbing lightly as if to loosen his tense muscles. “Don’t be nervous, yifu. Let me take care of you tonight.”
“Nervous! As if—ah!”
Chang Geng fastens onto his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin. There’s a hint of teeth. Gu Yun takes a deep breath, steadying himself against the possessive pull. Such a small pain, to have such an effect on him. He’s getting hard.
“Let me take care of you,” Chang Geng murmurs again, then moves away, leaving Gu Yun alone and reeling in the center of the room. There’s a distinctive click. Gu Yun guesses he’s turning the lamp up, the better to see his poor blindfolded victim.
Gu Yun licks his lips—because they’re dry, not because he’s nervous—and hears a faint inhalation from across the room. Then slow, careful footsteps returning to him, and fingertips like gentle fire licking at his cheek, drifting to his neck. Chang Geng’s voice, soft as the night sky: “Yifu is so beautiful like this.”
He thought he was used to blindness. He’s lived with it since childhood—no. He’s been fighting it since childhood. That’s what feels so strange right now; tonight, he willingly surrenders to the darkness. He can take the blindfold off at any moment.
He won’t. Not yet.
Chang Geng breathes against his lips and unfastens his belt. Gu Yun reaches to help, but Chang Geng catches his hands. “Yifu.”
“Fine, fine. Let you.” He surrenders to darkness and to strong hands slowly sliding his clothes away.
Chang Geng is always so careful with him. Even when he takes such wild liberties, he moves slowly, deliberately, so Gu Yun knows at every moment what improper touch is coming next. He takes off Gu Yun’s robe, sets it aside, then touches Gu Yun’s chest. His fingertips are blazing hot through the thin cotton, which provides no barrier but friction between them. Gu Yun feels naked already. The faintest touch ripples through his entire body.
He wonders what perverse medicine Chang Geng’s been studying, that he can manipulate his body so easily.
Chang Geng trails his fingers deliberately down the scar across his chest. There’s the familiar eerie stretch of skin that Gu Yun can’t feel that well. Then a thumb brushes over his nipple. He definitely feels that. Chang Geng’s touch lightens, just barely grazing his nipples through the thin fabric. The teasing friction heats up his blood; he gasps, clenches his fists to keep himself from reaching out again. “So slow,” he says, and he means to tease, but it comes out too breathless.
Chang Geng’s hands drop to his sides. He leans into Gu Yun’s ear, even though he can hear perfectly well right now, to whisper, “You’re worth every moment.” His hands tighten, thumbs kneading gently into his waist. “I could spend a year just like this.”
Gu Yun swears. It’s too sweet, it’s too tender, he can’t stand it—he seizes Chang Geng by the neck, before he can stop him, and kisses him. Clumsy, blind, he catches his jaw first, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, before Chang Geng laughs and takes his chin and guides them together.
This kiss is deeper than before, slower, as Chang Geng takes control and turns it into yet another vile tease. Chang Geng pulls him forward until they press flush against each other, and Gu Yun feels the thick, hard length of Chang Geng’s cock between them.
However unlucky Chang Geng’s fortune is, Heaven at least endowed him here. It’s practically two men’s worth of cock, Gu Yun thinks, dizzy with an increasingly familiar blend of nerves and desire.
Gu Yun breaks away to breathe. Chang Geng lets him, gently strokes his silk-covered brow, then resumes his slow project of undressing Gu Yun and driving him insane. He kisses his neck, his collarbone, a heated line down his body, until he reaches his navel, and Gu Yun’s mouth is free but he still can’t breathe. He imagines Chang Geng kneeling before him, the position completely improper for an imperial prince. He wonders what Chang Geng’s face looks like right now—is he looking up with terrifying devotion? Or is he looking at Gu Yun’s waist, or further down…
Chang Geng grabs his ankle, and Gu Yun nearly falls over in surprise. “Hold my shoulder,” Chang Geng instructs.
Gu Yun obeys, fumbling for support as Chang Geng pulls his socks off. He nearly falls over again when Chang Geng kisses his hip through his thin underclothes, a sharp hint of wolf’s teeth. When a firm hand burns against his thigh.
“Yifu looks feverish,” Chang Geng says, standing up. “Are you all right?”
“You’re taking forever,” Gu Yun says haughtily. “I’m going to fall asleep.”
Chang Geng starts peeling away his underclothes. “You can sleep if you want. I’ll make sure your dreams are good…”
Even sleep is no escape from this lecherous prince. Gu Yun should probably be more troubled by that, but he’s distracted as thin cotton falls away, replaced by Chang Geng’s hands.
Then the warm hands fall away, leaving him completely bare to the night breeze. There’s a shuffling of footsteps, another click of the lamp. And then silence.
He expects Chang Geng to return, like a compass drawn to the North star; every moment he doesn’t, Gu Yun’s heart beats quicker behind his ribs. He feels foolish standing there, and his hands ache for a knife, for an arm to grasp, for a rope to strain against. Something, anything.
Finally the silence is too much. “Chang Geng?”
The sigh across the room is whisper-soft. “I must be dreaming.” Footsteps again. The faintest touch to his shoulder. “Yifu is so beautiful.” Chang Geng circles behind him, feather touch falling to his shoulderblades, the small of his back, dancing dangerously close to his acupoints before falling away.
At last, Chang Geng takes his hands and pulls him to bed.
Gu Yun expects to be immediately pushed onto his back, but Chang Geng sits first and pulls Gu Yun on top of him. Chang Geng is still fully dressed, and the fine silk feels soft against Gu Yun’s bare thighs. They move and reposition, Chang Geng carefully guiding him, as if Gu Yun couldn’t figure this out for himself, until Chang Geng is leaning against the wall, sitting up with Gu Yun in his lap.
Chang Geng spreads his thighs slightly, throwing Gu Yun off balance; he grabs his shoulders. “Are you making me do all the work tonight?”
“I can see you better like this.” Chang Geng strokes down from his neck to his chest, to the firm planes of his stomach. It’s entirely different from touching through his clothes.
Gu Yun is truly going to go insane. Chang Geng seems determined to touch every part of him except his cock. His wandering hands traverse Gu Yun’s thighs, his waist, his neck again. A shift beneath him is his only warning before warm lips press against his chest, sucking a chain of bruises beneath his collarbone. Gu Yun can’t see them, but he imagines the bruises like drops of ink, writing Chang Geng’s devotion across his skin.
Chang Geng murmurs, “Hold still,” and his hands disappear.
Usually, when he’s blind, he’s deaf as well. But tonight, his eyes are shrouded by silk instead of illness, and his ears are as keen as ever. He can perfectly hear the vial uncorking. Then wet fingers trace teasingly over his nipples, before painting a cool, electric line down his chest.
“You’re going to get oil on your clothes,” Gu Yun says.
Chang Geng laughs. “Not just oil.”
His hand slides between them, oil-slick skin against his cock for the briefest, most maddening of moments. Gu Yun jumps with the suddenness. He’s so hard, his skin sings with the barest touch. He hasn’t regained his composure when Chang Geng’s fingertips press against his hole.
Against, then in him. Gu Yun gasps. “So, done wasting time…”
Chang Geng’s breath is hot on his neck, and the cold fingers quickly warm up. One finger slips all the way inside him. This isn’t the first time they’ve fucked, but it still feels so strange and new, a single touch that burns through his every nerve at once. Once Chang Geng is inside him, even with just his finger, Gu Yun can think of nothing else. His whole body feels hot, oversensitive, like he can feel every strand of silk he grasps over Chang Geng’s shoulders, every muscle in Chang Geng’s thighs straining beneath his. His eyelashes flutter against the blindfold.
Chang Geng’s finger pumps in slowly, lingeringly. His other hand strokes Gu Yun’s waist. “Calm down, relax for me, yifu.”
Gu Yun groans. “How can I relax with you calling me that?”
He can’t see anything, but he can clearly picture the unfilial lust in Chang Geng’s eyes as he presses a second finger to Gu Yun’s hole. Gu Yun bites back a whimper at the sudden stretch, rocks back and forth trying to adjust to it. The movement rubs his cock against Chang Geng’s arm between them. Sparks of sensation, almost a distraction from the penetration—
—until Chang Geng crooks his fingers just right. Gu Yun arches, gasping. His vision sparks red and black even under the blindfold, like he’s a lantern lit from the inside, an arrow burning, a Great Kite exploding. Chang Geng moves his fingers again, rubs deliberately against that spot inside him, and Gu Yun clenches his teeth against the moan. He rocks his hips, not towards or away, just moving because he can’t stay still. He’s so hard already, so impossibly hot, and Chang Geng’s fingers are like iron, steadily pumping into him.
He’s already close, and he’s not a firework or an arrow now, he’s just a body driven to his breaking point, trembling under his lover’s relentless touch.
Chang Geng holds his face, palm sweaty against his cheek. His thumb tracing the edge of the blindfold, and the extra sensation nearly drives Gu Yun past the edge. He wonders what he looks like right now—face red, hair sticking to his temples—and even blind, he feels the weight of Chang Geng’s gaze on him.
“So beautiful,” Chang Geng pants, working a third finger into him with a forceful push. “Beautiful and mine.”
The last word is like smoke in the wind. Gu Yun shivers, and echoes, “Yours.”
Chang Geng goes suddenly still. Even his fingers stop moving inside him. His voice is low, nearly desperate: “Say that again.”
“Are you deaf now?”
“Yifu,” he whines.
Gu Yun sighs. It’s so obvious, why should he have to say it? He reaches out until he can find Chang Geng’s face with hesitant fingers, trace the full bow of his lips. He breathes, “I’m yours forever.”
Chang Geng trembles beneath him, then kisses his palm.
The thick fingers withdraw, leaving Gu Yun empty and aching for about two seconds before there’s an urgent rustling of fabric and familiar wet sounds of skin on skin. Chang Geng urges him up on his knees, pushes him up, and pulls him down.
They’ve fucked before. Not often. Few enough times that each one is still imprinted moment by moment in Gu Yun’s memory. Maybe someday they’ll have enough time together, in their little village all to themselves, that the moments will start to blur. He’ll forget which bruise he got in the garden and which he got in the kitchen. He’ll forget which endearments Chang Geng has whispered and which he groaned and which he insinuated in shameless letters. He’ll forget whether they fucked three times on his birthday, or only twice.
But tonight, everything is still new and sharp. Every sweet hurt sears across his mind, brilliant fire in the darkness. Gu Yun gasps as he sinks onto Chang Geng’s cock, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright. Chang Geng is so big, Gu Yun can’t take him all at once. He has to move slowly. He struggles to breathe. His hands twist in Chang Geng’s fine robes, and he feels Chang Geng trembling and breathless beneath him too.
He sinks down, opening impossibly, his entire body reshaping itself around Chang Geng. His cock is so big, so intrusive, it must be throwing his meridians out of alignment. Fully seated, Gu Yun pants for air. He clutches Chang Geng’s shoulders and gasps, “All right.”
Chang Geng groans and jerks his hips forward. He can’t thrust hard in this position, but he can rut upwards, forwards, driving his cock right where Gu Yun feels it most. Gu Yun groans, bracing himself, and moves with him.
Gu Yun has trained to march all day, fly all night, ride as far as his horse will carry him. But his current mount demands a punishing pace; he’s panting, sweating, struggling to keep up. His back aches, old injuries twinging through his body. He’s a wreck of a man, and he’s an idiot, but all Chang Geng babbles is, “Beautiful, beautiful, like that, yifu—”
They’re both idiots, and every stupid word from Chang Geng’s lips makes his limbs feel lighter. He doesn’t need armor to fly when he has this.
“Please,” he groans, “I’m…”
Chang Geng understands. He lets go of Gu Yun’s hip to grab his cock. His palm’s still slick with oil. The touch is hot, wet. Chang Geng tightens his hand but doesn’t pull; Gu Yun’s every movement thrusts him into Chang Geng’s grasp. He’s so close, but it’s not enough; he rocks faster on Chang Geng’s cock to chase his own release.
Without his eyes, his every other sense intensifies. The sound of Chang Geng’s breath, the smell of sweat and perfume. In the end, it’s the taste of Chang Geng’s lips on his that drives him over the edge. He groans into Chang Geng’s mouth, his whole body trembling, as Chang Geng strokes him through his orgasm.
He’s still high, still trembling, Chang Geng’s hand growing near painfully sweet on his cock, when he feels Chang Geng tense underneath him. Gu Yun breaks the kiss, driven by a sudden, frantic urge. “Wait—wait—I want—”
He drags the blindfold off just in time. The sudden lamplight shines painfully; its brilliance refracts through the room, a golden crown on the man before him. Through the brilliant veil, Gu Yun can see Chang Geng’s face twist, then slacken in pleasure, as his hands tighten on Gu Yun’s waist, and he shudders up into Gu Yun’s body.
He knows in that moment he doesn’t watch Chang Geng because he’s dangerous. He doesn’t watch him because he’s worried. He watches Chang Geng for the same reason Chang Geng watches him: he loves him. He needs him.
And he knows Chang Geng is his, all his, forever. Whether he can see him or not.
His eyes slowly adjust to the light as they both come down from the high. Gu Yun’s insides ache, and his thighs feel sticky and gross, but there’s a strange calm in his heart that he wants to hold onto a moment longer.
With difficulty, he unclenches his hands from Chang Geng’s robes. Reaches out, touches his cheek. “Well. Was that how your dream went?”
Chang Geng’s smile is brilliant. Dazzling. Like stepping from darkest night into brightest day. Like Gu Yun has been truly blind every moment of his life until now. “Of course not,” he murmurs. “Yifu is better than any dream could be.”
He’s too sickening sweet, too shameless, too beautiful. Gu Yun closes his eyes, and leans forward to shut him up.