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MXTX Kinktober 2019 Collection

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Jiang Yanli had practically skipped up the stairs after retrieving her package from the postal carrier with hurried thanks and heated cheeks. She carefully opened the box and unfolded the layers of crisp tissue paper, revealing soft lilac fabric even more luxurious than it had appeared online. 

 

Eager to try it on before her husband returned home, Jiang Yanli had slipped out of her black leggings and boring tunic, quickly followed by her simple undergarments. With a small sigh, she briefly lamented her lack of fashion since having Jin Ling. Reverently, she took her newest purchase out from the layers of wrapping, holding it up before her to admire. 

 

Not wanting to wait to try it on, Jiang Yanli had shimmied her legs into the openings, slowly working it up and over her torso, and then contorted her body through the shoulder straps of the corset. She adjusted the bindings to fit her shape, snug but not uncomfortable, before she stepped back and assessed herself. 

 

The lacing of the bodice accentuated her waist, not fully back to her pre-baby days, but mimicking it nicely enough. The height of the cut on the thigh made her legs appear long and slim, and she didn't even notice the slightest dimpling of her flesh. Normally, that was the first thing she honed in on, her pregnancy leaving her with numerous physical flaws. The thin satin ribbon criss-crossed her lower abdomen, giving an enticing peek of what lay beneath, hiding every stretch mark somehow while leaving plenty of skin on display. 

 

Running her hands up her belly, Jiang Yanli had cupped her breasts, lifted and filled by the clever underwire propping them up, defying gravity in a way that enchanted even her as she groped herself. The muted purple hue of the lace pulled taut over her breasts highlighted every curve and swell. She gazed at them in pride - they feed her son, they attract her husband, they make her feel like a woman. 

 

As Jiang Yanli had laid herself out on the bed, waiting for Jin Zixuan's return, she hoped he would come home before it was time to next relieve herself of milk. What a shame it would be to stain this garment before he even gets to see her in it. She ran her hands down her thighs, opening them for her own exploration, only teasing at herself through the sheer material of the lingerie. 

 

Jiang Yanli awakens to a feeling of uncomfortable fullness and heat in her chest, her breasts aching and sore. She starts to sit up, glad her son is with his grandparents and she can use her pump, although she's so engorged she'll have to encourage a little relief with her hands first. Suddenly, the pressure of two large hands gliding over her hips and a leg nudging between her thighs registers in her mind. 

 

"Yanli," murmurs Jin Zixuan, hovering over her. He presses his lips to her exposed cleavage. "I came as soon as I got your message. Was this what was urgent?" 

 

Sighing, Jiang Yanli lays back down. She is disappointed that she needs to tend to a basic need before she and her husband will be able to enjoy one another, her craving as a wife on hold to her duty as a mother. A sharp pain lances through her bosom. She gasps. "A-Xuan, I have to pump. I'm late."

 

Jin Zixuan backs away, concern washing over his expression. "Can I help you?" 

 

Despite the agony, Jiang Yanli smiles. "I don't think so, darling. Not unless you intend to feed like your son. Plus I'm so full, even he couldn't latch on properly right now. I need to relieve some pressure first." She begins to unhook the straps from the bodice, reaching around behind her to unclasp all the tiny closures. 

 

Jin Zixuan rises from the bed and gently shifts her arms back in front of her, moving to perch behind her. "Please. I want to help you, Yanli."

 

Nodding, forcing away her childish desire to pout, Jiang Yanli allows her husband to undress her from this gorgeous lingerie before he even gets to experience it. He slides the straps down her arms, his palms grazing up her arms and back to her now bare shoulders. He pulls apart the corset, reaching around her from behind to pull it away from Jiang Yanli's chest. Her breasts spring free and she groans at the heaviness. 

 

Before she can begin, Jin Zixuan holds one hard, red breast in his hand, massaging it. He uses his fingers to coax the overfilled tissue towards release. The ache is delicious as Jiang Yanli senses the lightning sharp tingle of letdown, her nipple erect and ready to nourish life. With a spurt, breastmilk begins to flow out of the nipple, coursing down her stomach and soaking the pretty lilac ribbon. 

 

With a moan, Jin Zixuan releases her breast and easily turns her body around so they face one another. Jiang Yanli watches him in surprise, at his hungry gaze where he stares at the milk trickling over her skin. 

 

"Yanli…" Jin Zixuan breathes, hands slightly shaking where they lie on her waist. He licks his lips. "May I keep relieving you?" 

 

“A-Xuan?" Jiang Yanli almost thinks he is implying that he wishes to feed off her. The thought sends a flare of heat pulsing through her, the fabric between her legs already feeling sticky and damp. "Do you want to…"

 

Jiang Yanli cups her breast between her palms and arches her back, offering herself to her husband. Her face warms at the possibility that this isn't what he meant, in which case she might expire from embarrassment. Before she even finish her thought, Jin Zixuan whimpers and places his lips sweetly on her skin, closing them around her sensitive nipple. He flicks over the tip with his tongue, before he creates a seal. Jiang Yanli holds her breath in anticipation, and her cunt throbs with desire as she stands on this precipice. 

 

Suddenly, Jin Zixuan sucks. Jiang Yanli throws her head back, her hands flying to hold her husband's head close to her. The milk flows out of her, she feels it moving through her and gushing out of her nipple, where a hot mouth suckles to drink it. Jin Zixuan moves to blindly grope at her other breast, already letting down due to the simulation of the other one. He uses his dexterous fingers to massage that flesh while eating his fill. 

 

With a gasp and a plea, Jiang Yanli grabs her husband's hand and pulls it away from her chest, even though the gentle kneading feels divine. She runs it down her body, guiding them both between her trembling thighs. Holding Jin Zixuan's hand, together they press down against her heat. He needs no further encouragement. 

 

Mouth greedily drinking from her body, Jin Zixuan eases his fingers past delicate lingerie and slips them inside of her. His thumb works slow circles between her folds, changing his tempo and pressure as her body reacts to his ministrations. The waves of pleasure from her husband’s lips drinking her milk, and his fingers playing her like an instrument, work tirelessly to bring her to an unexpected peak.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Meng Yao sees Nie Mingjue as soon as he enters the club. He watches as the man weaves through the other patrons and couples, cutting through a crowd like a hot knife through butter. 

 

A knife , muses Meng Yao briefly, before tabling the idea when his companion approaches him. 

 

“Good evening, sir.” Nie Mingjue’s normally gruff voice, one that effortlessly brings trades to completion and easily dismisses the press, sounds more muted. Soft and demure, although Meng Yao hears his forceful nature thrumming just below the surface. He’s already in his role, the game beginning like it always does. 

 

“Da ge.” Meng Yao purrs, his hand reaching out to grasp Nie Mingjue’s larger one. A thrill shivers through him, even though nothing out of the ordinary has occurred yet. Their ordinary , this dance they partake in well beyond the limitations of their professional relationship. This is for no one except the two of them. 

 

Meng Yao lifts Nie Mingjue’s hand to his mouth and presses his lips against sharp knuckles, kissing each one. Reverent and gentle. 

 

When he pulls Nie Mingjue’s hand away, he lowers his gaze to admire this lion of a man drop to his knees. The sight always tugs at Meng Yao, just for a moment, as he remembers walking in on his mother doing the same. The circumstances are quite different, that was a transaction, this is a partnership, and yet still he struggles to catch his breath at the sight of the big, bold, and brash businessman in a subservient position. This man moves mountains with his dominance in the boardroom, but aches to serve Meng Yao at night. 

 

“Da ge, I’m waiting,” murmurs Meng Yao, eyes widening when broad shoulders stiffen. Defiance so early?  This part of their ritual greeting isn’t even that much of a challenge, but Nie Mingjue appears to be struggling to find his submissive headspace tonight. 

 

Slightly breaking their typical pattern, Meng Yao raises his foot towards the other man. He chuckles as Nie Mingjue’s ears redden. Stubborn

 

“Da ge.” Meng Yao wiggles his foot, practically a taunt, letting the moment hang suspended between them for a bit longer before he will break it. Meng Yao trusts Nie Mingjue to use their safe words, he has in the past to prove he can be trusted to do so. Yet, somehow he doubts the man’s pride will allow him to voice his unease this early on, before anything beyond their simple shift into their roles has occurred. 

 

“Yes, sir.” Nie Mingjue whispers out the words, as though saying them costs him something fragile and precious. No matter how often they dance, the initial resistance has almost become a part of the steps.

 

With a sigh only perceptible because Meng Yao knows him so intimately, Nie Mingjue lowers himself further towards the floor, taking the proffered foot with him. He purses his lips and kisses along the entire instep, before licking around the toe, and then kissing around the outside edge of the shoe. He gently maneuvers Meng Yao’s foot back to the floor, and repeats his deference with the other shoe. When he finishes, he waits by Meng Yao’s feet. 

 

“Rise, Da ge,” instructs Meng Yao, pleased that Nie Mingjue has found a place of comfort, at least for now. He will need to be extra vigilant in checking in with his submissive tonight. 

 

Nie Mingjue gets off the floor, standing with his head bowed towards Meng Yao, as he awaits their transition into the next part of the evening. A pulse of pure heat rushes through him at the knowledge that even though this man dwarfs him in all physical aspects, he bends before Meng Yao. Nie Mingjue allows himself to serve him , he gets pleasure out of being used by him . He reaches orgasm only from Meng Yao’s instruction and direction. 

 

Meng Yao steps closer to Nie Mingjue, hyper aware of his pulse racing throughout his body. He swallows, allowing the heady power to capture him in its lustful grip. Heat radiates off the other man’s body, impressive and imposing even fully clothed. With a harsh tug on Nie Mingjue’s ponytail, Meng Yao begins the next phase, certain that when he turns to walk towards one of the upstairs private rooms, he will be dutifully followed. 

 

Their personal relationship is built on mutual trust and respect, both giving and taking what they each need for fulfillment, pleasure, and contentment. No one else has to ever understand them, no one else ever has to know what exists between them, what occurs behind closed doors. 

 

Nie Mingjue begs, cries, drifts, bends, but Meng Yao never allows him to break. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Lan Xichen closes his eyes as he sinks deeper into the bathtub, back sliding easily down the smooth wooden sides. The fragrant oils he had added to the bath soothe both his mind and his skin. He slowly exhales, causing ripples across the surface. His nose hovers just above the water, and with every inhale, jasmine and neroli fill his senses.

 

Time drifts as his thoughts scatter, regrets and mistakes sinking out of reach the longer Lan Xichen soaks. They never stray too far, but sometimes they mercifully leave him alone long enough for him to catch his breath.

 

A hand glides up Lan Xichen’s leg, and he startles, nearly inhaling bathwater in his frantic scramble to an upright, and more modest, position. He crosses his legs, hyper aware of the palm caressing his thigh. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Lan Xichen forgoes all formalities in the face of this surprise intimacy. The man kneeling beside the bathtub with a submerged hand is one of the last people he would have expected to visit him again. This can’t continue, he thinks weakly, although he yearns for the touch back on his aching body. 

 

“Would you believe I really don’t know?” Nie Huaisang smiles ruefully as his hand slips higher up Lan Xichen’s leg. “I keep returning to Gusu. There’s something worthwhile here.”

 

“Huaisang, please,” murmurs Lan Xichen, his eyes fluttering closed again. He tips his head back to rest along the lip of the bathtub.

 

“Mm, please what, Xichen-Gege?” Nie Huaisang smirks, although his eyes hold a question, a hesitation, a doubt that this advance is welcome. 

 

Lan Xichen lowers himself back down into the water, uncrossing and spreading his legs as far as the tub allows. “It’s been...a long time.”

 

Nie Huaisang hums, the sound soft and pleasing to Lan Xichen’s ears. He’s missed responses to his questions, usually he speaks to no one while hidden away in a forgotten corner of the Cloud Recesses. “Too long?”

 

“Huaisang…” Lan Xichen arches his back with a moan when slender, graceful fingers curl around him. He hasn’t had an erection since he locked himself up, but now his cock throbs for attention, touch, release. The sensation could be awkward underwater, and yet Nie Huaisang strokes him as easily as he applies a paintbrush to canvas. “More.”

 

“I’ve missed you,” whispers Nie Huaisang, leaning closer, his breath dancing along Lan Xichen’s damp shoulders. “I always wonder…”

 

“What? Huaisang, what do you -ahh!- what do you wonder?” Lan Xichen grips the side of the bathtub, his knuckles aching as they tremble. The wood creaks under the strength of his hold.

 

Lips press along the length of Lan Xichen’s exposed neck, pausing to suck just below his ear. A shiver wracks through his body, fast and hot like lightning. His body tenses in expectation, as the blood pounds through his veins, gathering and roiling deep in his gut. The hand along his cock is relentless, working from base to tip, twisting over the head with practiced ease. Gently, teeth tug at Lan Xichen’s earlobe, and he whimpers when they stop. 

 

“Would Da Ge have approved? Neither of us thought he would, but now I wonder. That’s all.” Nie Huaisang increases the speed of his movements, bringing Lan Xichen closer, closer, closer-

 

With a grunt and stuttered cry of a barely recognizable name, Lan Xichen comes in Nie Huaisang’s hand. His release spurts into the water, a cloud as murky as his thoughts spreads to distort the clarity of the water. He sighs and turns his head away in embarrassment. He cannot look at Nie Huaisang. Not now. 

 

It’s been so long. It’s been too long. 

 

This dalliance cannot happen again. Lan Xichen repeats a promise he has made to himself dozens of times before, each one more empty than the last. Somehow, Nie Huaisang slithers himself between and around those oaths to get what he wants, to give Lan Xichen what he craves. For fleeting, heady moments, his brain quiets and his body takes control, giving into mindless pleasure.

 

Nie Huaisang rises to his feet, wiping his sullied hand on his robes. He snorts, inelegant and tactless, but that’s all Lan Xichen deserves. 

 

“Da Ge would want us both to be happy, even if he could never give you what you longed for, then and still now.” Nie Huaisang pierces Lan Xichen with his simple, honest words. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Huaisang, you deserve better,” mumbles Lan Xichen, face heating with a familiar shame. 

 

Nie Huaisang stares at him for a beat too long, assessing, mourning, forgiving. “No, I don’t, but perhaps neither do you. Maybe we each provide one another something that we’ve lost. Maybe that’s all there ever is and all there ever needs to be.”

 

With a snap, Nie Huaisang opens a fan, one Lan Xichen instantly recognizes as his favorite, a gift from his brother years ago. He turns on his heel, slipping back out of Lan Xichen’s cottage as easily as he slipped in. 

 

Lan Xichen sinks back into the water, lowering his body and submerging even his head underneath the surface. Background noise becomes muffled, except nothing drowns out the poisonous voices in his mind.

 

 


 

 

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“San Lang,” Xie Lian murmurs, unable to wrench his gaze off the object in his hands. He turns it over in his palm, running his curious fingers over the slightly chilled, spiraled length of it. 

 

“Yes, Ge ge?” Hua Cheng rests his chin on Xie Lian’s shoulder to watch him explore the toy. His arms tighten around Xie Lian’s torso from behind, his husband’s presence a cool comfort against his back. “Do you like it?”

 

Xie Lian runs a fingertip along the ridge that twists from the base of the toy all the way to its tip. The slightly flattened end reminds him of a tongue, which intrigues him. The proper skilled flick of Hua Cheng’s tongue sends him to heights of pleasure he cannot quite fathom beyond the carnal knowledge that they make him ascend in a different way. “But what is it? It looks like ice.”

 

Hua Cheng’s face turns to nuzzle into Xie Lian’s neck, an echo of a breath ghosting along his skin. His lips are cold, but the rising heat in his own body warms him enough for them both. “I had it made. It’s to put inside of you, Ge ge.”

 

Hua Cheng moves one hand to cup around his that holds the toy. His other hand maneuvers itself over his, weaving his slender fingers in between Xie Lian’s. Together, he curls their hands around the toy, stroking it from the base to the tip. The movement is slow and sensual, and Xie Lian considers his husband’s words.

 

Xie Lian shudders, staring down at the toy growing colder in his hand. He wonders if it would stay cold or if his body would warm it up. “I want that.”

 

The mouth against his throat curves into a smile, and Xie Lian wishes he could see it. Hua Cheng lifts the toy in their joint grasp, while moving his head away from his neck with one last tender kiss. Xie Lian feels a pointed chin as it digs into his shoulder, and he glances down to see a long, sloppy string of drool fall onto the toy. It spills over the top, running in rivulets down the spiral towards the base. 

 

When some of Hua Cheng’s saliva dribbles onto Xie Lian’s palm, he shivers. “San Lang, it feels frozen!”

 

A chuckle escapes Hua Cheng, even as the drool continues to pour over the now icy dildo, thoroughly coating it. “This humble servant can keep it cold even while it’s fucking you, Ge ge.”

 

The crude words are like lightning in his nerves, a flare of desire racing through him. He feels sticky moisture begin to pool between his legs, which he tries to rub together without his husband noticing. “San Lang, I want that.”

 

“What do you want, Your Highness?” Hua Cheng inquires, tone playful as he encourages Xie Lian to be open and honest about what he craves. “If you ask, you shall receive.”

 

Xie Lian’s sex throbs at the purred promise, damp heat flooding his undergarments as his thighs tremble. He swallows past his slight unease, his desire louder than his embarrassment as it roars like thunder within him. “I want San Lang to fuck me with this icicle toy.”

 

“As Ge ge wishes,” whispers Hua Cheng, as one of his hands drops to begin opening Xie Lian’s robes. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

The fingers combing through his hair are soft and gentle, and still Luo Binghe squeezes his eyes shut, almost afraid to look. If he opens his eyes to a reality that doesn't include Shen Qingqiu, he isn't sure he can bear it. Not again. 

 

This is enough. The easy scrape of fingernails along his scalp soothes his mind. Even if it's a product of an overactive imagination after another nightmare, it feels true enough. Luo Binghe doesn't need more than this to be fine. 

 

Memories of his husband are enough.

 

Luo Binghe's breath catches in his throat when he recalls the monster in his dream - holding Shizun, choking Shizun, sinking his teeth and talons into Shizun's flesh with touches both forceful and unwanted. The pain and desperation in green eyes as they had gazed right through him, as though Shen Qingqiu had known Luo Binghe is useless to save him, weak and powerless.

 

Luo Binghe is not enough. He knows this, he knows , and yet when he is with Shen Qingqiu he thinks maybe he is worthy of someone as wonderful as his-

 

"Binghe?" Shen Qingqiu murmurs his name from behind, so close that the warmth of his breath makes Luo Binghe shiver when it floats past his ear. "Stay here with me, Binghe."

 

"Shizun," whispers Luo Binghe. The  heaving of his chest as he works for air is more human than demon. The skin around his eyes wrinkles as he clenches his eyes closed even tighter. 

 

Shen Qingqiu's hand stills on Luo Binghe's head, before it slips lower. He brings his other hand up, both now resting easily on his shoulders. Luo Binghe hopes they aren't shaking under his husband's steady palms. He doesn't want to discuss his nightmare, he doesn't want to think about it anymore. He wants to believe this is real. He yearns for mindless release at the hands of Shen Qingqiu. 

 

"Shizun, this husband doesn't want to think anymore about anything." Luo Binghe forces himself to take slow, regular breaths, focusing on the fingers as they tap lightly on his shoulders. "Please, Shizun."

 

"Binghe," says Shen Qingqiu, using a voice that sounds more like his teacher than his husband. "I need you to open your eyes. I want to know you're here with me and that you want this."

 

"This husband wants it, Shizun." Luo Binghe nearly whines with his eagerness to move past whatever grip his mind has over him tonight. They’ve been awake like this for awhile now, and yet he still struggles to quiet the doubts in his head.

 

One hand leaves its spot on Luo Binghe's body, only for a light smack of a closed fan to hit his head. "Binghe, open your eyes."

 

Luo Binghe cracks his eyes open, immediately seeking Shen Qingqiu's reflection behind him. His sharp features appear soft and open, and a small smile stretches his lips as he meets his gaze in the mirror. His husband is alive and well, he is lovely. "Shizun."

 

"Good, Binghe. Keep them open." Shen Qingqiu instructs calmly, before sliding his palms down Luo Binghe's chest, slender arms stretched around his entire broad body. He moves slowly, caressing every dip and curve, appreciating the definition of muscle, working his fingers between layers of fabric.

 

Luo Binghe gasps when hot hands maneuver past his robes and touch his skin. He stares into the mirror, watching as his robes are parted and pushed away, exposing the front of his body. He swallows and spreads his thighs when skilled fingers drop lower, slipping past the waistband of his trousers. 

 

"Shizun's hand feels so good on this husband," purrs Luo Binghe, encouraging more. He rolls his hips up, chasing more contact as fingertips graze his inner thigh. His nightmare is distant in his mind as the tease of pleasure rolls over him, blood quickly rushing to his groin to meet Shen Qingqiu's touch. 

 

When Shen Qingqiu curls his fingers around his cock, Luo Binghe's body bucks upwards. He moans, shifting his body to rest more completely against his husband, held comfortably in the cradle of his thighs. The heat of Shen Qingqiu's torso burns his back, even through the fabric of their robes. He tips his head back to rest on one slim shoulder, somehow forcing his eyes to remain open and on himself.

 

One hand drifts up his bare chest to hold his throat, fingers wrapping around him like a necklace. Green eyes stare at Luo Binghe in the mirror, watching and assessing. "Binghe, do you feel good?" 

 

Luo Binghe's erection throbs as he swallows past the flare of lust clouding his vision. When Shen Qingqiu squeezes at the base of his cock, waiting for an answer, he whimpers, a heady wave crashing over him. "Shizun, this husband feels amazing right now."

 

Shen Qingqiu smiles, hand gliding smoothly over the thick length of Luo Binghe. He increases his pace, effortlessly working him closer to a release he craves, one that already crackles at the edge of his consciousness. "Do you see how beautiful you are, Binghe? Are you watching?" 

 

"Yes, Shizun," says Luo Binghe, a slight flush spreading over his cheeks and chest. He groans at the twist of Shen Qingqiu's hand over the head of his cock. 

 

"Look, Binghe. This is the best part. Your face is so pretty when you come." Shen Qingqiu dips his head, pressing his lips to Luo Binghe's forehead. His face is scorching hot next to Luo Binghe's skin.

 

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe inquires, peering at his husband in the mirror. "Shizun should -ahhh Sh-Shizun!- should watch instead of hiding his face."

 

Lightning shoots up Luo Binghe's spine and Shen Qingqiu's breath thunders in his ear. An aching desire coils in his gut, his balls tingling and tightening with every stroke of his husband's palm. He snaps his eyes shut as he focuses on his release. 

 

"Watch yourself, Binghe." Shen Qingqiu urges him with his voice and his hand, both vigorous in their plea. “Stay right here with me.”

 

Luo Binghe squints, hazy and a bit unfocused, staring intently at their reflections. With one last deft stroke of Shen Qingqiu's hand, Luo Binghe's orgasm hits hard, washing over him like a tidal wave and dragging him under the surface. Pulsing pleasure surges through him, and he manages to watch himself through it. He sees come spurt out of his cock, coating his husband's graceful hand as it drips down his fingers. He notices the darkening blush spreading across his chest, mottled and pink as he pants for air. He spies the loosening of his hair from its style, a halo-like fringe framing his face. 

 

With a moan and a small twitch of his slowly softening erection, Luo Binghe watches as Shen Qingqiu raises his sullied hand to his mouth. He stares in disbelief as his thin-faced husband sucks his come-soaked fingers into his mouth, locking gazes with Luo Binghe in the mirror as he licks them clean. 

 

 


 

 

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Mu Qing watches the heave of Feng Xin's chest underneath his foot, feeling its frantic rise and fall against his sole. No matter how often they do this, exactly like this, he always has to fight for the upper hand. He has to earn it. 

 

With a derisive snort, Feng Xin opens his eyes. "When will you stop doubting. Sir ."

 

Mu Qing frowns. He didn't voice his thoughts, he is almost certain. "Did I tell you to speak?" 

 

"You didn't need to, your thoughts are deafening." Feng Xin manages to sound haughty even as he lays on the ground beneath Mu Qing's boot. 

 

"Get up." Mu Qing tires of this conversation. He struggles to get into the right headspace. He should be able to tamp down his insecurities and take charge of this situation. Some nights are easier than others, and tonight he flounders. He removes his foot from his partner's chest. 

 

Rising smoothly to his feet, Feng Xin stands before Mu Qing, only appearing shorter in stature because his head stays tucked down. Mu Qing glowers at the other's crown, gathering his composure. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. 

 

Mu Qing reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue pebbled leather collar. "Lift your head."

 

Without even a moment's delay, Feng Xin raises his chin, meeting Mu Qing's gaze. Mu Qing licks his lips as his vision slowly travels down the other man's body, greedily taking in the smooth column of his neck, the exposed skin of his cleavage, the bulge tenting the front of his trousers. He steadies his hands and steps closer to Feng Xin. 

 

"Do you want to wear this tonight, pet?" Mu Qing murmurs, his mouth right next to Feng Xin's ear. He flicks out his tongue and licks the shell, teasing. 

 

"Yes, sir," answers Feng Xin, with an audible swallow. He tips his chin up. 

 

Mu Qing slides the collar around the presented throat, his fingertips lingering on the sensitive skin. "Turn around." 

 

Feng Xin obliges, his back looming before Mu Qing. He sweeps dark hair over a broad shoulder, and fastens the collar in place, snapping the closure shut. Mu Qing retrieves the leash from his other pocket, and clips that to the ring secured to the leather circling Feng Xin's neck. 

 

Mu Qing gives an experimental tug on the leash, gratified when Feng Xin stumbles back a step at the sudden motion. "Careful, pet."

 

"Yes, sir." Feng Xin's voice already sounds strained, gritting out his words with control.

 

Mu Qing wants to shove that tone right back into Feng Xin's mouth, make him choke on it. Instead, he moves around the larger body in front of him, until they are face to face. Dark eyes stare at him for a beat until they drop to the ground, lashes fanned across his cheeks in attractive curves. Mu Qing rolls his eyes in frustration.

 

Dropping to his knees, Mu Qing grips Feng Xin's hips in a bruising hold. He wants to crack this man's stoic and controlled expression. He wants this subservience, but he needs Feng Xin to crave it as much as he does. If he isn't getting pleasure from this, Mu Qing is failing him. He has to prove himself worthy of dominating this man. 

 

Tugging down simple trousers and undergarments with one jerky motion, Mu Qing breathes in the familiar, musky scent of Feng Xin. He admires the length of his thick cock, standing proud and erect before him. A drop of precome glistens on the fat head, tempting Mu Qing. His tongue darts out to lap it up, the salty taste tantalizing on his tongue. 

 

Feng Xin bucks his hips forward with a grunt, and Mu Qing tightens his grip on him. Opening his mouth wide, he takes in as much of Feng Xin's dick as he can, blinking past tears as his throat protests, until his nose is buried in coarse curls. He draws back, almost letting the throbbing organ out of his mouth. He purses his lips and sucks hard, before drawing Feng Xin back in.

 

Bobbing his head, Mu Qing pleasures Feng Xin orally, his fingers twitching on the other man's trim hips. His pace is slow but steady, never breaking to rest his jaw. He wants this man to crumble under him, and beg him for more. With a wet pop, Mu Qing releases Feng Xin and peers up at him. 

 

"I want you to use me, pet." Mu Qing tries to sound forceful, but he's mesmerized by the way Feng Xin gazes at him, lust seeming to cloud his focus.

 

"Sir?" Feng Xin's voice is thin, tense, ready to snap. Mu Qing loves it. 

 

"Fuck my mouth." Mu Qing smirks as Feng Xin obediently lifts his arms to grab the back of his head. Before he can think about it or change his mind, his head is held like a vice, unable to move. Feng Xin snaps his hips forward and shoves his cock back inside Mu Qing's hot, wet mouth. With a vigorous tempo, Feng Xin uses him to chase his orgasm, with brutal thrusts and his balls slapping rhythmically against Mu Qing's chin.

 

Lost in a daze as his mouth is plundered, Mu Qing wonders what it would feel like to wear the collar, if Feng Xin would hold the leash taut as he takes him like this, cutting off his air supply as he comes. Next, Mu Qing thinks he'll order Feng Xin to get on his knees behind him so he can fill Mu Qing and drive into him, fucking the thoughts right out of his head. 

 

 


 

 

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“Lay still,” hisses Wen Qing, as she glowers down at Jiang Cheng. He wilts a bit underneath her glare, although that isn’t what she wants. She prefers him going toe to toe with her - questioning, arguing, raising her blood pressure in a few different ways. 

 

“I’m tired of lying here,” retorts Jiang Cheng, scowl twisting his features into an expression she used to hate. Now, it stokes a fire burning low within her, never fully dormant around this infuriating man. His long locks of hair are loose around his head, swirling around his head like he floats in his adored lotus ponds. “It’s boring and I have things to do, as do you. Don’t you have a shameless demonic cultivator to keep in line?”

 

Wen Qing scoffs, her hand falling to rest lightly on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. Her gesture belies her derisive tone. Her eyes flit back down to the reason her lover lies on his bed beneath her, why he summoned her to Lotus Pier. She is surprised every time she is explicitly told that she’s welcome here, when she is invited in by the very man who exterminated so many of her sect. 

 

“You could keep me entertained instead of scrutinizing my scars. I know that’s why you keep looking at my chest. I’m fine.” Jiang Cheng struggles to sit up, but it’s a weak effort, and Wen Qing easily pushes him back to a prone position. 

 

“You’re not completely fine,” counters Wen Qing, although watching the flicker of candlelight play along the planes and curves of Jiang Cheng’s torso entices her to take him up on the suggestion. He’s beautiful and she wants to touch him everywhere that makes him forget the pressure that holds him down. “And I’m not scrutinizing your scars.”

 

Jiang Cheng blinks up at her, the blue of his eyes bright in the low light. “You’re not? Then what are you looking at?”

 

“You!” Wen Qing smacks his upper arm, only feeling slightly guilty when he winces. “You are certainly attractive enough to hold my attention. I don’t need an excuse to admire your body.”

 

The blush that blooms on Jiang Cheng’s face and chest is pink and splotchy. Wen Qing longs to kiss every rosy patch, to see if she can make that color spread further along his skin. Before she overthinks things, she throws a leg over her lover’s waist, effortlessly straddling his body. She flattens her palms and runs them appreciatively down Jiang Cheng’s defined chest, cupping his pecs and squeezing, avoid the still healing lacerations and punctures scattered across his abdomen. 

 

Jiang Cheng’s eyes flash darker, a storm of desire held within their depths. He lifts his hands to curl around her hips, fingers pressing into the swell of her ass. She wishes her robes were already off so she could feel Jiang Cheng between her thighs. A pulse of damp heat coils low in her gut, her pelvis already growing heavy with want. She removes her hands to quickly shed the multiple layers of fabric swathing her body, sliding them off of her arms and letting them pool around her. Like an instinct, Jiang Cheng reverently runs his hands up her sides, stopping to hold the heavy weight of her breasts. He rubs his thumbs over her erect nipples. He licks his lips and whines, as he attempts to get closer to her chest.

 

Wen Qing takes pity on him, and loves the feel of his lips on any part of her body, so she leans over him. Jiang Cheng wastes no time taking one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucks greedily, as though he cannot get enough of her taste. His hand pinches and rolls her other nipple, the dual sensations increasing the sticky moisture building within her. Her inner thighs feel damp and she wishes she could rub them together.

 

With a moan, Wen Qing throws her head back. Her fingers itch to touch herself, already craving friction along her clit, and something to stretch her, fill her, thrust into her until there isn’t space for anything else except mindless pleasure. With a skilled flick of his tongue, Jiang Cheng makes her knees weak and her legs tremble around his waist. 

 

Jiang Cheng releases her breasts and chuckles, low and breathy, as he slithers further down the mattress until his head is what’s between her legs. Wen Qing glances down and he smirks up at her, all cocky confidence. He raises his eyebrows at her and she manages to nod. Her fingers no longer have his muscled chest to grab onto, so she curls her fingers into the sheet when his lips meet hers. He sucks her labia into his mouth, sending a shudder through her body. Lightning dances along the edge of her vision as the waves build within her with every stroke of Jiang Cheng’s tongue. He parts her lips and flicks her clit, before lightly drawing it into his mouth with determined suction. He coaxes her higher, lapping eagerly at her, drawing reactions with the skill of his mouth. 

 

Resting her forearms against the bed, Wen Qing rocks her hips down into Jiang Cheng’s face. He traces his tongue along her swollen bud, pace varied but insistent, keeping her on the edge of mounting tension. One finger circles her entrance before slipping inside of the drenched hole. She spreads her legs wider in wantan encouragement. Jiang Cheng pulls his finger out of her tight heat before thrusting it back in, setting a steady rhythm as he finger fucks her. 

 

“More,” breathes Wen Qing, needing to feel fuller, yearning for more of her lover inside of her body. She hangs her head, practically resting it on the bed beside her fisted hands. 

 

Jiang Cheng sucks at her clit, while adding a second finger inside of her, the glide of his fingers a delicious stretch. Wen Qing’s cunt throbs as she rolls her pelvis into Jiang Cheng, meeting his mouth and his hand with enthusiasm. She’s so wet with slick and drool, her inner thighs are damp and warm as they clamp around Jiang Cheng’s head, encouraging him for more. 

 

“More, A-Cheng, please!” Wen Qing gasps out words, the air thick and heady around her, around them. She reaches down and blindly grabs onto her lover’s hair.

 

“Mmm,” hums Jiang Cheng, his voice rumbles against her skin, the sound spoken into her very being and vibrating through her until she feels it in her bones. Her fingers fist into silky hair as her body begins to shake, pressing him even closer to her sex. Her cunt clenches around Jiang Cheng’s thick fingers, milking him, urging him to fuck her faster. His tongue moves rapidly against her clit, every deft flick of the tip spools the liquid heat tighter within her. 

 

Wen Qing bucks towards him, movements erratic and desperate as she chases an orgasmic high, a mindless release. She grinds her cunt into Jiang Cheng’s willing mouth, their lips mashed together as the pleasure peaks and crests over her when she comes, the sharp electric sensation starting in her core and radiating all the way from her fingertips to her toes as it scorches through her veins.

 

Collapsing against the bed as she lets go of her lover’s hair, Wen Qing laughs as she manages to lift herself off Jiang Cheng. The man maneuvers himself up, using his forearm to wipe off his mouth, although his lips still glisten with her fluids. He’s out of breath but his expression is smug and relaxed. She holds out her arms and he burrows into them, nestling against her breasts, giving each one a gentle kiss before resting his head.

 

“Well,” begins Wen Qing, an amused smile twitching at her mouth. “Did that keep you entertained?”

 

Jiang Cheng chuckles, and she feels his smile along her skin. “You always keep me entertained. I love you.”

 

An innocent warmth spreads through Wen Qing as those words plant themselves inside her heart, immediately taking root. She tenderly combs her fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair, holding him close to her. “I-”

 

“You don’t have to say it, it’s okay. I don’t...expect to hear it.” Jiang Cheng mumbles, interrupting, as he buries his face into her generous bosom, avoiding her gaze as she peers down at him. 

 

Wen Qing sighs, her heart swelling with affection and protectiveness for this man. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You should be aware that I don’t say things I do not mean. So when I say that I love you, A-Cheng, I don’t mean anything except that I love you with my whole heart, exactly as you are.”

 

When a few tears trickle along the curves of her flesh, Wen Qing allows herself to shed a few of her own as she cuddles Jiang Cheng. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

The two faces at the door were not the ones Lan Huan had expected to see when he opened it on this evening of his birthday. Lan Zhan had only just departed after offering celebratory wishes, asking to stay, but Lan Huan sent him on his way back to his own flat. He hadn’t wanted to impose his own sour attitude on his brother, especially not when his lover-turned husband had so recently returned from overseas. They deserve joy and peace after their tumultuous history, they deserve to be happy.

 

Just thinking about how he had forced himself to attend Lan Zhan’s recent wedding, twists something thorny and gnarled in Lan Huan’s lungs, making it hard to draw air. He sucks in a breath recalling how his face and heart had ached after a night spent pretending to be fine. “I’m doing well,” he had responded to family and friends, over and over and over-

 

“Lan Huan,” murmurs Jiang Cheng, his hand stilling on Lan Huan’s hip. “Stay here with us.”

 

“Yes,” agrees Nie Huaisang, his best friend’s younger brother, whose stiff cock currently rests half out of Lan Huan’s gaping, drooling mouth. “It seems your mind is wandering.”

 

“Ngh.” Lan Huan attempts to defend the depressed turn of his thoughts, but can’t talk with his mouth full. He opens wider and takes in more of Nie Huaisang’s erection. Tears spring to the corners of his eyes when the fat head hits his throat, barely managing to suppress his gag reflex. It’s been too long since the last time he’s had another man in his mouth, and that man had been the younger brother of the one who kneels before him now. If there’s anything Lan Huan is sure of, it’s that Nie Huaisang is not the little brother. 

 

Lan Huan bobs his head, moving his wet lips steadily over Nie Huaisang’s cock. He senses it throb against his tongue. The precome teases inside his mouth and he greedily swallows all of it down. In the haze of his mental state, Lan Huan has almost forgotten how much he loves giving head - the jaw strain, the uncontrollable saliva, the weight of another man’s thick organ in his mouth. It always reminds him that he’s alive and in control of his life choices, at least for one blissful moment. 

 

When the movement begins again behind him, Lan Huan nearly chokes on Nie Huaisang’s cock. Jiang Cheng has resumed his ruthless pace, fucking in and out of his lube-slick channel with vigor. The sound and sensation of balls smacking his flesh help Lan Huan stay grounded to the moment. He rocks his hips back, meeting Jiang Cheng for every thrust. This is not the first time they’ve banged out their frustrations, one of them desperately seeking release from their life, but it’s the first time they’ve played with anyone else present. 

 

Lan Huan would never have predicted it’d be Nie Huaisang. 

 

“Mmm,” moans Lan Huan, his head moving in time with Jiang Cheng’s pelvis. 

 

Jiang Cheng grabs Lan Huan’s hair and wraps a fistful around his hand, tugging his head back. Nie Huaisang’s cock slips out of his mouth. “Lan Huan, it’s your day. You deserve to finish first. Whose hand do you wanna fuck?”

 

Lan Huan starts to shake his head, the sting of Jiang Cheng’s grip a delicious ache on his scalp. 

 

Nie Huaisang slaps his dick lightly against Lan Huan’s cheek. He feels a wet smear on his skin before the dripping cock is back pushing insistently at his lips. “You can’t say you don’t care or you don’t need it. You know what you want, big brother. So say it. Besides, claiming ‘you don’t know’ is more my line anyway.”

 

Jiang Cheng leans over Lan Huan to lick his ear, his breath a warm tickle on sensitive skin. “Choose. Whatever you want, but you have to want it and you have to say it.”

 

“Both,” gasps Lan Huan, before he opens his mouth to suck on Nie Huaisang’s hot and heavy member. “I want you both to do it.” 

 

Lan Huan feels Jiang Cheng lean over him further while Nie Huaisang shifts forward. He hears the sounds of them kissing over his head, and the image he conjures sends a flare of desire scorching through his veins. He’s so close already, just from being fucked by Jiang Cheng and blowing Nie Huaisang. 

 

He groans when two hands wrap around his cock, fingers curling smoothly over the heated length. His balls tighten and pulse, hovering on the edge at the first stimulation. His ass continues to be rigorously pounded and he resumes pleasuring Nie Huaisang, but now heat pools low within him, the tension building rapidly in his groin as he nears orgasm. His own cry is muffled by the salty mouthful of come that spurts into mouth just as he finishes. He feels his asshole clench uncontrollably, milking Jiang Cheng’s cock. 

 

Nie Huaisang cups Lan Huan’s cheek as his cock slips out of his mouth, bending down to kiss him, licking his lips and tasting himself. 

 

“Lan...Lan Huan!” With a stuttered rhythm and a yank on his hair, Jiang Cheng gives one last brutal thrust and fills Lan Huan with his hot, wet seed. The other man stays inside of him when he all but collapses, draped along Lan Huan’s broad back, while he and Nie Huaisang are still attached at the mouth. 

 

Jiang Cheng nuzzles into the crook of Lan Huan’s neck. “Happy birthday, boyfriend. I hope you liked your gift.”

 

Nie Huaisang laughs, finally pulling away from Lan Huan’s lips. “I’ve never been a present before! I enjoyed it, although maybe next year I can wear a bow.”

 

Hands sliding possessively around Lan Huan’s sweat-soaked torso, tugging him closer, Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Who said anything about next year?”

 

“You never know, Jiang Cheng,” chuckles Lan Huan, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s outraged squawk when his encroaching hand is batted away by Jiang Cheng. “You never know.”

 

For the moment, basking in the afterglow of sex and the secure embrace of his boyfriend, everything is just fine.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Shi Qingxuan shivers and opens her eyes. Although it's chilly in the room, Ming Yi’s lair certainly never temperate, the full-body shudder is more from anticipation than the atmosphere.

 

Ming Yi curves her full lips up into a slight smile, one that Shi Qingxuan yearns to lick and tease and coax until it’s bigger, warmer, more radiant. “I guess you’ll find out.”

 

Laughing, Shi Qingxuan settles herself back against the mattress. Her skin is covered in goosebumps the longer she observes Ming Yi prepare her materials for the evening. She loves when her best friend - her maybe something more but truthfully she never knows - gets ideas to spice up their relationship in the bedroom. This is nothing she's ever tried.

 

The wind gusts around Shi Qingxuan the more she fidgets - bare, expectant, perhaps even a little nervous as she lies here waiting. She trusts Ming Yi, god, demon, or otherwise. There is something about her determined focus that lights a fire in Shi Qingxuan’s gut. It boils her blood and scorches through her veins and makes her heart pound. 

 

A slight dip of the mattress and Shi Qingxuan snaps her eyes up to watch Ming Yi as she straddles her waist. She settles her weight back, rocking her ass down into Shi Qingxuan’s pelvis, and causing just enough friction for a whimper. 

 

“What’s the surprise, Ming-xiong?” Shi Qingxuan has tried hard to be patient, but her curiosity and excitement gets the best of her now that Ming Yi rests on top of her, skin to skin. “Is it this?”

 

Reaching for something underneath the pillow, Ming Yi bends down over Shi Qingxuan. Not wanting to be the only one enduring teasing, she opens her mouth and captures one of Ming Yi’s breasts swaying above her head. She wraps her lips around a pert, pink nipple and sucks, lifting her hands to cup both breasts. She gently squeezes her fingers into supple flesh. Ming Yi shifts, and Shi Qingxuan pouts when she can no longer flick her tongue along a nipple and earn a quiet gasp while thighs tighten around her body.

 

Ming Yi smirks and grinds down harder, slipping a hand in between their bodies to rub at Shi Qingxuan’s sex. A pulse of heat wets her thighs further, as fingers curl up against her, light and teasing. Shi Qingxuan closes her eyes and rolls her hips up, fervently seeking more, except suddenly a silky length of fabric presses against her eyelids, blocking her sight. 

 

With a slight whine, Shi Qingxuan squirms on the bed. “Ming-xiong, is this your surprise? What are you going to do now that I’m blindfolded?”

 

“Do you trust me?” Ming Yi murmurs, low, close to Shi Qingxuan’s ear. “Will you tell me to stop if you don’t like it?”

 

“I do trust you and I’ll shout at the top of my lungs if I can’t endure whatever you have planned for me, but Ming-xiong I want it if you want it.” Shi Qingxuan wriggles underneath her, trying to get Ming Yi to touch her pussy again. 

 

Nothing except silence greets Shi Qingxuan as she waits again. Ming Yi is a steady weight atop her, moving as she reaches for something else. She strains her ears for clues, but cannot hear much past the thundering of her own heartbeat. She wishes she could hear Ming Yi’s. She wonders if it is racing the way hers is, if she’s as excited by-

 

“Ohhh,” breathes Shi Qingxuan at the first touch of something on her skin. It’s warm and slippery and she focuses on how it feels. “Did you just drool on me, Ming-xiong?”

 

Hugging out a laugh, Ming Yi begins to smooth the liquid over Shi Qingxuan’s skin. “No. It’s oil. Now relax and let me massage it into your skin.”

 

Shi Qingxuan lets her mind wander as talented fingers skim over the flesh of her chest, her breasts, her abdomen. She is almost completely calm under Ming Yi’s hands, practically  floating, when a hot drop lands on her skin. She bucks up into Ming Yi’s solid presence holding her hips down. Another drop falls onto her upper chest, followed by another. Each touch is scalding for only a moment until the temperature cools and leaves a delicious warmth in its wake.

 

“What do you think?” Ming Yi’s voice is husky and tense, and Shi Qingxuan longs to see the dark, honest lust in her eyes.

 

“It’s unusual but I like it so far,” whispers Shi Qingxuan, reverent of the atmosphere Ming Yi has created for her, for them. Before she can ask what it is, another drip hits her flesh, just under where the last one landed, a slow path being laid on her skin. 

 

Shi Qingxuan writhes on the bed as drop after drop of hot wax coats her chest, traveling down into her cleavage. Every drop burns before it cools and leaves her hanging on an edge until the next one hits. Soon, the wax shifts to one breast, the drops starting where it curves, and creating a warm trail over the rounded terrain. Anticipation builds heavy within Shi Qingxuan’s cunt as the motion nears the nipple, as she craves the scorch along that sensitive, erect skin. 

 

“Ming-xiong!” Shi Qingxuan whines when the wax avoids her nipple in favor of torturing her other breast, the same gradual pace dripping along the ample flesh towards the nipple. She twitches, her hands fisting with agitation into the sheets. She bites her bottom lip to control her needy noises, and she rubs her thighs together as the wax coats her breasts in a non-stop barrage of hot sensation. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Wei Ying spreads his thighs wider as he sinks lower onto Lan Zhan. His bare thighs glide against the other man’s hips as he bends down, sweeping long hair out of the way, over one smooth shoulder. Reverently, he runs his splayed palms down the terrain of a broad, colorful back. 

 

“Wei Ying,” murmurs Lan Zhan, turning his head to the side and peering up at him. 

 

Wei Ying’s thumbs graze along scars disguised as water ripples, the blues vibrant against his pale thumbs. He traces them all, up and down the line of each one, slow and steady. The rough edges and shiny ridges merely add depth to the artwork adorning the vast expanse of  Lan Zhan’s back. 

 

Light gold eyes watch him attentively, hardly even blinking while they stare, and it sends a shiver through Wei Ying’s body. “Lan Zhan, your body is beautiful. The artist who designed your tattoo is clearly a genius, but it helps when the canvas is this magnificent.”

 

“Wei Ying is a genius,” agrees Lan Zhan, amusement dancing in his honeyed depths. 

 

Laughing, Wei Ying leans down further and kisses the nape of Lan Zhan’s neck. He presses his lips in a line along the length of his spine, his hands sliding down naked flesh alongside his mouth. The humor dies in his throat as Lan Zhan gasps and jerks against the mattress when his lips reach the swell of his ass and his fingers dig into sensitive flesh.

 

“Can I add to my art, Er-Gege? There’s a little something missing.” Wei Ying begins to stroke himself lazily with one hand, other hand dragging up his chest until he finds a nipple, pinching until he moans. “Mmmm, Lan Zhan, I wish you were touching me.”

 

Lan Zhan attempts to turn over, but Wei Ying stops him before he’s unseated. His plea is nearly a whine. “Wei Ying, please.”

 

“Uh-uh, nope! I’m the artist and I need my canvas to lay still. I have very important work to do here,” breathes out Wei Ying, before a twist of his wrist has him shamelessly throwing his head back. “Ahhh, Er-Gege, I’m pretending it’s your fingers.”

 

Wei Ying abandons his own chest in favor of reaching behind himself. He smooths his hand over the curve of his ass, teasing a fingertip around his entrance. “Lan Zhan, ahh, can you reach under the pillow and toss me the lube?”

 

Lan Zhan’s ears burn pink as he silently locates the small brightly-colored bottle of oil and hands it to him. His focused eyes briefly stray from the arm disappearing behind Wei Ying. He glances up at him. “Let me.”

 

“I’m working on my craft, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying says with a moan after he slips one generously lubed finger inside of himself. He rocks his pelvis forward, fucking his fist, and then rolls his hips back as he fingers his sensitive channel. Groaning and panting for air, Wei Ying chases his pleasure astride Lan Zhan, enjoying the feel of the twitching, muscular body between his legs. “Do you like what you see so far?”

 

Cracking his eyes open, Wei Ying smiles widely at Lan Zhan, who stares up at him over his shoulder, eyes dark and hazy with desire. His hum is throaty in response. “Mn.”

 

“Ohh, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying has two fingers shoved up his ass, rubbing against his pulsing inner walls, while his cock throbs in his palm. His hand speeds up, stroking himself with vigor, twisting his wrist to graze the underside of the head just the way he likes. His hips thrust forward, his tightening balls rubbing along the swell of Lan Zhan’s ass. “Lan...Lan Zhan!”

 

The rapidly mounting pressure hangs taut like a bowstring in his gut and groin, before lightning shoots up Wei Ying’s spine and nerves flare throughout his body like an electric current. He arches his back as he orgasms, and spurts his release all over Lan Zhan’s elaborately tattooed skin. Thick, white ropes of come decorate Lan Zhan’s back, adding a new dimension to the crest of the waves and highlighting the movement of the water. 

 

Lan Zhan huffs out a breath, before twisting his hips and turning himself over. He bucks Wei Ying off, who merely laughs at the treatment as he’s suddenly the one flipped over. Before he can even open his mouth, Lan Zhan kisses any weak protests out of his mouth, his tongue demanding entry and tangling with his. Their lips mash together with little finesse, as they find the correct angle to deepen their connection. 

 

Drool trickles out of the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth, as he pulls away for air, chest heaving as he’s pinned underneath Lan Zhan’s perfect body. Wei Ying throws his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and circles his trim waist with flexible legs, hooking his ankles to hold him close. He sticks out his bottom lip, earning it a quick, gentle nip from sharp teeth. “Er-Gege, you ruined my masterpiece. I painted all over you and now it’s smeared on the sheets. Whatever will you do to make it up to me?”

 

Lan Zhan reaches underneath Wei Ying, rubbing his hand along the bed. Wei Ying peeks down between them, watching as the other man lubes his stiff erection with what he could find of Wei Ying’s come on the sheet. “I will do this.”

 

Wei Ying is about to tease in return when the fat head of Lan Zhan’s cock breaches his hole with a strong thrust. He swallows and moans at the delicious stretch, wanting to be filled even more, ready to be stuffed full. “Lan Zhan, give it to me, I’m ready. Give it to me really good, Er-Gege!”

 

Lan Zhan hums and rolls his hips, burying himself inside of Wei Ying in one forceful motion. Rocking his pelvis upwards to match the rigorous pace, Wei Ying clings to Lan Zhan’s shoulders as he fucks him deep and fast and hard. His palms drift over raised marks and healed welts, knowing they are now a work of living art on this man’s skin, a testament to his strength and endurance, where he’s been and how he’s grown. Tattooed or not, each scar only serves to make Lan Zhan even more beautiful in Wei Ying’s eyes.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Xie Lian flexes his fingers, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. He glances down at the pale, slender neck which fills his hands. Underneath him, Hua Cheng appears perfectly calm. His eye is relaxed as it peers up at him, glittering in the low light of their bedroom in Paradise Manor. 

 

"San Lang, are you sure?" Xie Lian asks, aware of his own strength, certain he can control it. He is equally aware that Hua Cheng cannot actually be harmed, not by his windpipe being crushed, not that Xie Lian would ever do anything to hurt him. The weight of the ring on his chest feels heavier than usual as he stares at his husband. 

 

Hua Cheng forces his chest to rise and fall, exhaling a ghost of a deep breath. He gracefully rolls his hips up, and Xie Lian feels his cock shift even deeper inside of Hua Cheng. If he didn't know better, he would think his husband's entire body is breathing, pulsing gently as it holds Xie Lian snugly inside of him. 

 

"Ge ge, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to." Hua Cheng assures him with the resonance of his deep voice and the strength of his complete conviction. "It's only something desirable if Ge ge desires it too."

 

"I won't hurt you." Xie Lian isn't sure if he's convincing himself or convincing Hua Cheng, but he states it with surety. "I will never hurt you."

 

"This husband knows His Highness's power and heart and is confident He would never hurt this lowly, loyal follower." Hua Cheng slides his hands from Xie Lian's elbows to his wrists, circling them easily with his large hands and long fingers. They are a steady presence on his skin. Like the shackles he used to wear, but Hua Cheng would never limit his strength. 

 

Hua Cheng only makes Xie Lian stronger. 

 

"Does Ge ge know why I want this?" Hua Cheng inquires, patient and relaxed, even with a god's thumbs pressing into his throat. 

 

Xie Lian shakes his head, curious for the answer. He yearns to understand everything about Hua Cheng. 

 

Hua Cheng smiles at him, rocking his pelvis up as he sets a slow rhythm. Xie Lian briefly forgets about the request and sinks into the motion. He thrusts into the willing, pliant body beneath him. He draws out and drives back in, focusing on their mutual pleasure, listening for every gasp and moan as he rubs his cock along the warm, throbbing channel of Hua Cheng. 

 

"Ge ge is so good to this husband," purrs Hua Cheng, spreading his thighs wider. 

 

Xie Lian leans forward, fucking into Hua Cheng with determination. The fingers around his wrists tighten, and Xie Lian automatically tightens his around Hua Cheng's neck. He squeezes, depressing the thin skin, his thumbs digging in underneath his chin. He feels Hua Cheng's Adam's apple shift when he swallows. 

 

The hypnotic roll of Hua Cheng's body as they come together stutters. "Ge ge, I'm close. I need you to say you're okay with this."

 

"I will do this for you, San Lang." Xie Lian pushes his thumbs in harder, sensing the racing of a phantom heartbeat. He feels it pulse along his erection and against his palms. Hua Cheng's entire body, inside and out, calls for him, teetering on the edge of release. "Tell me why."

 

Voice scratchy and thin, Hua Cheng manages to still sound sexy. Xie Lian fucks him closer to the brink, his grip controlled and steady on his husband's throat as he speaks. "I want to feel the shackles around my neck. I want you to feel powerful. I want you to start letting go of some of your pain, Ge ge."

 

Xie Lian clenches his hands around Hua Cheng's neck as they both orgasm. He comes inside of Hua Cheng while he watches a black eye lose focus and roll back in pleasure. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

"Wanyin, please stop pacing." Lan Xichen grabs Jiang Cheng's forearm in an attempt to get him to cease his prowling around the cottage. "It was just a silly idea, forget I said anything."

 

Jiang Cheng spins around and pierces him with an expression practically crackling with energy. If Lan Xichen didn't know any better, he would think the man channeled Zidian in his very blood. "Do I seem like- did you think I'd- Lan Huan, is this how you…argh!"

 

Lan Xichen watches the agitation grow to a point where Jiang Cheng can't even finish a thought. "Wanyin, please. Forget it. Let's go back to our tea and discussion about music. It's not that important to-"

 

"Lan Huan, enough! Don't dismiss it like you don't want it! Don't dismiss yourself and your desires that easily! You've said it and now we need to talk about this." Jiang Cheng stops roaring long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose and heave a deep sigh. When he talks again, his voice is much quieter. "You wouldn't have requested this if it wasn't important. I just have to know one thing."

 

"Of course, ask me anything," begs Lan Xichen. He'll say or do nearly anything to erase the strained and dejected tone from his lover's voice. He steels himself to be rejected instead, the Yunmeng sect leader likely no longer willing to have anything to do with him anymore. 

 

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and turns his face away, and Lan Xichen fights the urge to pull him back, to kiss away the sadness from his mouth. "You didn't… ask me because… you…" 

 

"Wanyin?" Lan Xichen has never heard this man so hesitant. He wonders how low Jiang Cheng's opinion of him has sunk after voicing this urge. No craving is worth this agony. 

 

"You've heard all the stories about things I've done, some true, others exaggerated." Jiang Cheng's voice drops to a whisper, almost as though he hopes Lan Xichen won't hear it. "You aren't asking me because you think I like to hurt people, are you?" 

 

Of every scathing indictment he could have imagined, this defeated inquiry is not anything Lan Xichen expected. "Wanyin."

 

"Please. Just tell me." Jiang Cheng's shoulders protectively curl in towards his chest and Lan Xichen hates it. 

 

Lan Xichen moves in front of Jiang Cheng and grasps his upper arms, forcing the other man to look at him. "No. No, Wanyin. I don't believe rumors and gossip, and we've already talked about those things. I believe you. I believe you, Wanyin. And I believe in you. I asked because we are lovers, we are friends, and I'm so humiliated by this request but I trust your discretion and your honesty and there is no one else I would ever want to touch me."

 

Jiang Cheng audibly swallows. "Lan Huan…"

 

"I am certain you would never hurt me." Lan Xichen doesn't have to think about it. He knows Jiang Cheng and now he understands what entertaining this idea is costing him. "I only want it if you are comfortable. If you are not, I will let it go. Our relationship is about more than either of us healing and moving on. It's also simply about us."

 

Stormy blue eyes watch him carefully, as Jiang Cheng contemplates everything they've discussed this afternoon. The silence stretches taut between them until finally he makes his judgment.

 

"I will do it, Lan Huan."

 

 


 

 

Lan Xichen spreads his legs wider for Jiang Cheng, who kneels between them. "Wanyin."

 

"Are you ready?" Jiang Cheng asks, looking deeply into his eyes. Lan Xichen feels as though he's being seen through. He nods, as words escape him. "You will stop me if it's too much? At any point? No nodding, I need an actual word. " 

 

Lan Xichen gulps past his nerves. "Yes, Wanyin."

 

Licking his lips, Jiang Cheng lowers his gaze. With steady hands, the tip of the knife lightly grazes Lan Xichen's inner thigh, a light red line left in its wake. The sting of pain registers and then is forgotten as the damp heat of Jiang Cheng's mouth closes over the length of his throbbing erection. His lips are soft as they stretch around his cock, drawing slowly back up from the base before releasing him. He kisses the tip, then kneels back. 

 

Another skilled cut from the knife, this time on the other thigh, makes Lan Xichen gasp. It shifts into a moan when he is swallowed back down by Jiang Cheng's mouth. His cock pulses against Jiang Cheng's tongue when he licks a path from his balls to the tip, giving little kitten flicks to the patch of nerves under the head. 

 

Lan Xichen clenches his twitching hands into fists, a cloth bunched tightly in his hands. "Wanyin… you feel so good."

 

The knife presses against Lan Xichen's flesh, this time a little deeper. The warm trickle of blood, relieving his body of some of his stubborn demons, is forgotten when lips press gently against him. Jiang Cheng cups his balls, holding them gently in his palm as he fills his mouth again with Lan Xichen's cock. He sucks him down to the root, the back of his throat flexing around the head. He feels drool spill down his heated shaft. 

 

"Wan… Wanyin. Please. Please ." Lan Xichen isn't sure what he's begging for, but it's the release of so much more than a simple orgasm. The tension spools within him, his groin heavy, while his heart aches with guilt and sorrow ready to be set free. 

 

Jiang Cheng glances up at him after he pulls back, rocking back onto his heels. His palm is a warm comfort on his leg as he eases the cloth from his fist to dab at the incision on his thigh. "Lan Huan, is this still what you want? Do you want me to keep going?" 

 

"Yes, yes , Wanyin." Lan Xichen breathes out a response through the slowly building fog in his brain. He longs to slip further into it, escaping into a hazy pleasure. His eyes flutter closed as he waits, hanging close to the edge. 

 

The cool blade of the knife digs into the skin on Lan Xichen's other thigh, deeper still as it slices along his flesh. He imagines the ugly red liquid dripping out of him, each pulse to the beat of a name he's ready to move past. A broken, shattered history trickles out of him, away from him, where it cannot taint his future - as the GusuLan sect leader, as a member of his family, as a partner to Jiang Cheng. 

 

Just as the searing pain flares and Lan Xichen longs to cry out, the clatter of the knife on the floor startles him. Jiang Cheng slides his lips around his cock, gliding his mouth down the length of him before slowly pulling back up. He wraps his hand around the base, pumping his fist as he works his mouth along the shaft with a rhythm that pushes Lan Xichen right to the brink. 

 

Jiang Cheng hums as he sucks, deep vibrations thrumming through Lan Xichen's cock. His thighs tremble as the pleasure grips him like a vice. "Wanyin!" 

 

The pace of Jiang Cheng's movements increases, the bob of his head and suction of his lips reaching a determined fervor. Lan Xichen tips his head down and forces his eyes to stay open, mesmerized by the small furrow between his lover's eyebrows, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks. The last thing he thinks as his orgasm washes over him, come spurting into a devoted mouth, is how much he loves and trusts Jiang Cheng. 

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Yue Qi curls his tail protectively around Shen Jiu’s leg, an erratic rhythm tapped out along a recently reclothed body as he waits for the human to regain consciousness. He has never lost control like this before, always a paragon of restraint and failure in equal measure. Holding back his natural base urges saps him of vital strength, and yet, consuming Shen Jiu to the point of smothering his life force is not something Yue Qi can do. 

 

He wouldn’t, he won’t. He will never again have the chance.

 

Yue Qi would rather starve, a likely possibility at all times for an incubus who refuses to feed directly and fully off humans, but he would rather be the one to perish. His body will slowly weaken each day as it attempts to sustain himself, but he is no weak mortal. It will take centuries for him to finally consume himself, Shen Jiu long gone, only the echoes of his memory left for Yue Qi. 

 

Yue Qi tempers his appetite with brothels, where the sexual release is so high, he can practically lick what he needs off the floor while it seeps from the air into his corporeal illusion. Humans have a heart, demons have nothing inside except hunger and lust and greed swirling in the black void. And yet Yue Qi has something else, a tiny burning ember that threatens to flare wildly out of control if he lets it. 

 

Gazing down in shame at the human who has stolen his concentration, and now possibly his life, Yue Qi circles around what went wrong in his mind, how he let his demon take control. He battles his writhing, ugly murderous instincts frequently, feeding just enough while still allowing people to retain their humanity. 




“Qi Ge,” purred Shen Jiu, caressing the ridges of his curved horns while astride Yue Qi’s lap. Yue Qi’s glamour was starting to fade. “Mm, I like these. Why are you still holding back?”

 

Yue Qi’s cock pulsed inside of Shen Jiu, ready to devour. Clinging to his self-imposed morality, he forcibly held back the urge to possess this easy and willing human with living energy - blood, bone, and flesh only a fleeting taste of the soul within. He growled, his vocal chords lengthening, thickening, shifting his voice into something otherworldly. Shen Jiu swallowed it down with his mouth, greedily running his tongue over sharp fangs.

 

Shen Jiu pulled back, gasping for air. His eyes were glazed as though he was drugged, and Yue Qi could barely resist the instinct to feed until he was sated. The man’s thighs clench around him, holding him in place. Yue Qi wasn’t sure if the gesture was the induced thrall or a genuine desire for him to continue. “So what are you, what is this? Why would you waste your time with someone like m- ahhh!”

 

Gripping the hips of the mortal on his lap, long and sharp black talons dug into pliant skin and drew blood. The smell of their mingled fluids spurring him on, Yue Qi fucked up into Shen Jiu. He couldn’t waste any time or focus on answering frivolous questions. The entire twisted length of his demon cock impaled  Shen Jiu to the hilt, who threw back his head with a groan at the brutal intrusion. 

 

Control already slipping away, more of Yue Qi’s incubus marks burst from his body. Every thrust lured his true form closer to the surface - skin graying to a dull ash hue, the arch of his feet curling so he can land from the air, leathery webbed wings unfurling from his upper back while a long, tipped tail sprouted from his lower back. His eyes burned as they narrowed to slits, surely blood-red and luminescent.

 

Before Shen Jiu could regain his composure, Yue Qi captured his lips, shoving his tongue inside the human’s mouth before it fully split. He ran his twin tongues along Shen Jou’s solid one, winding around it and squeezing tightly as he drank in the mortal saliva spilling into his mouth and replaced it with his own sticky nectar. 

 

The moans turned into hushed whimpers, and Yue Qi started to draw back, but Shen Jiu fought his dwindling energy, rolling his hips up to keep the demon buried in his heat. Yue Qi felt his cock twitch and grow, the barbed tip ready to unsheathe and puncture, ready to destroy and consume from the inside out. 

 

“Xiao Jiu,” begged Yue Qi, desperation overwhelming his tone. His body throbbed with the need to fill and be filled, to be fed. His traitorous cock fucked relentlessly into Shen Jiu’s rapidly weakening body, their rhythm was a fervent pace. “Xiao Jiu, off…please.”

 

“Need… my Qi Ge… don’t- don’t leave me,” murmured Shen Jiu, eyes rolling back in his head, lips parted in a near stupor. “Please.”

 

With a shove, Yue Qi painfully wrenched Shen Jiu off his lap, his shared incubus slick coating the mortal man’s thighs. He unceremoniously dropped to the floor, his limp body landing with a thud that went straight to the demon’s nonexistent heart. Yue Qi scrambled away from him just as the piercing tip of his monstrous cock erupted, ready to stab into its human victim and suck its soul dry. 




Despite his immortality, time barely seems to pass until Shen Jiu blearily blinks open his eyes. Yue Qi nearly cries in relief. He cannot do this again, they cannot do this again. Yue Qi will have to watch this man from a distance, keeping him safe from falling prey to some other beast who doesn’t care how they hurt him. 

 

Before spending his scarce physical resources on the protection of a glamour, Yue Qi leans down to kiss Shen Jiu, just once, chaste and soft. He yearns for this human to see him in his true form, just once and with a clear mind, before erasing himself from Shen Jiu’s world. Theirs is an impossible reality, never meant to be. “This is an unfamiliar feeling for my kind, but I believe I have figured it out. I think I love you, Xiao Jiu.” 

 

Yue Qi closes his crimson eyes, dragging the glamour back over him, once more hiding everything ugly and demonic under handsome and compelling human features. His body trembles with fatigue and starvation. After a quick snap of his fingers, he draws his hand down over Shen Jiu’s confused face before he fully regains awareness. He gazes longingly into green eyes, for one final time admiring the fresh color, clean and bright like spring grass.

 

Yue Qi braces himself for the painful moment of loss, so much more agonizing than hunger pangs. Crying is a human weakness, and yet there’s no release he yearns for more. He can barely watch.

 

Shen Jiu’s brow furrows as he stares up at Yue Qi, appearing perplexed and nervous, although his expression remains as sharp as ever. “Who are you?”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Lan Wangji’s thighs are coated in slick, his hole throbbing to be filled with his alpha, his glands pulsing to be bitten by his mate. When Wei Wuxian mounts him from behind, draping himself over his broad back, a shudder wracks through his body, skin soaking wet with perspiration. His heat is only in its first few hours and already his limbs are weak and his blood scorches like fire through his veins.

 

Lan Wangji whimpers, his hole clenching around Wei Wuxian’s thick alpha cock. He rocks back, increasing the friction as much as he can given his drenched, needy state. He shivers, and Wei Wuxian wraps his arm around his torso, holding Lan Wangji impossibly close.

 

A hot mouth licks the shell of Lan Wangji’s ear. “I’ve got you, Lan Zhan. I’ll take care of you, only you, forever. I’ll fill you with babies, Er-Gege. Mine, ours.” Wei Wuxian presses a kiss to his temple and he keens, incoherent, craving more.

 

“Wei Ying,” moans Lan Wangji, voice nearly a whine. He tips his head to the side, exposing his throat to his mate as his first orgasm tugs at his navel. His pelvis is heavy with tension and his legs tremble, as Wei Wuxian fucks him hard and fast. “Mark me.”

 

With an uncharacteristic scream, Lan Wangji aggressively comes all over the mattress, where it mixes with the puddle of slick and sweat pooling on the sheets. The alpha at his back, his alpha , clamps his sharp, extended fangs into the sensitive scent gland which bonds them together. Wei Wuxian grunts and shifts his hips forward, mouth still sucking on Lan Wangji’s neck. 

 

Now that Lan Wangji has already come once, just enough to take the edge off his heat, Wei Wuxian fucks into him slow and deep. Every roll is sensual, and Lan Wangji circles his hips, pushing back into him, to intensify the grind. His alpha’s cock rubs against his sensitive walls with the motion. 

 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, voice smooth like honey as it drips into Lan Wangji’s ear. “I want to knot you. I want to stuff you full of my cock, Er-Gege.”

 

“Mn,” agrees Lan Wangji, mindless with the haze of his heat, brain swimming in nothing except liquid pleasure. He imagines his body bulging with come, his belly round with pups, his breasts engorged with milk. “Touch me.”

 

Wei Wuxian’s hand drops immediately from Lan Wangji’s hip to his sex, rubbing at his sodden folds, fingers searching for his erect clit. “Mmm, like this? You like when your alpha finger fucks you, Lan Zhan? You like the feel of my hand on you, touching you just like this? Is this how you want it, or should I go faster, like this?” 

 

Lan Wangji flushes as Wei Wuxian’s deft fingers flick at his clit, slowing down to caress the slick lips around it, then returning to the aroused nub. His breath is warm on Lan Wangji’s skin as he pants with exertion, thick cock fucking him, nimble fingers bringing him to the edge of a second orgasm. “Wei Ying, scratch me.”

 

“More, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian hums and moves his other hand around Lan Wangji’s shaking, overstimulated body. Lan Wangji braces his arms firmly against the mattress. “Hmm, do you want me to touch you here?”

 

Wei Wuxian’s hand cups his breast, it’s heavy weight held easily in his large palm. “Mn.” Lan Wangji moans at the attention to his chest. Fingers squeeze his flesh, before finding his nipple. Wei Wuxian pinches his nipple, rolling it between his fingertips and giving a harsh tug just as he fucks into Lan Wangji hard enough to nearly knock him off balance. Then fingernails dig into his breast, dragging along the tender skin all the way under his arm. Wei Wuxian repeats the scratching, until the sting cuts through his heat-induced fog. 

 

Lan Wangji glances down to see red lines adorning the curves of his chest. He loves them. The warring sensations batter his body, as his hole clenches around Wei Wuxian’s cock. 

 

“Lan Zhan, you like all this? It’s not too much?” Wei Wuxian’s fingers diddle Lan Wangji’s clit while his massive alpha erection fills his dripping hole. His sharp fingernails dig ruthlessly into the flesh of Lan Wangji’s breast 

 

“It’s good...hhhhh….Wei….Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji breathes out an answer as his release tingles at the ends of his fingers and the tips of his toes. His thighs quake and clamp together, urging his alpha to go deeper, fuck him harder, fondle him faster. He slams his hips back, meeting Wei Wuxian’s every drive into him. The liquid heat swirls in his groin and his gut, tighter as the tension builds. 

 

“Lan Zhan, I’m coming! I’m gonna empty every drop into you, then I’m gonna knot you. Er-Gege, do you want to be filled with my seed?” Wei Wuxian babbles in his ear as his thrusts grow erratic and desperate, every slam mounting to a fever pitch. 

 

Lan Wangji’s blood boils with need, his release almost within his grasp. Wei Wuxian plunges in to the hilt, and uses his thumb to press against his clit, rubbing insistently. He pulls on Lan Wangji’s nipple as he comes with a groan, Lan Wangji following him right over the edge. Wei Wuxian’s fingers work him through the waves of his orgasm, clit throbbing and slick gushing out of his hole, seeping around his alpha’s buried cock. 

 

Arms tightening around Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian lowers them gently to the bed. Lan Wangji feels his alpha’s cock thickening and growing inside of his body. The ridges of the knot push against his still twitching walls, the aftershocks of his orgasm rippling through him. A warm palm slides to his stomach, palm splayed with reverence. 

 

“Lan Zhan, do you think we did it? Do you think we made a baby?” Wei Wuxian laps at their bond mark. Lan Wangji wiggles, getting comfortable while plugged with his alpha’s knot. 

 

“I wish to bond you.” Lan Wangji turns his head and glances at his alpha out of the corner of his eye. 

 

Wei Wuxian maneuvers himself slightly, leaning his head over Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, Lan Zhan. Mark me and only me. I like when our marks are fresh.” 

 

Lan Wangji stretches back, licking his lips in expectation. When his alpha’s scent gland gets near enough, Lan Wangji stretches open his mouth and sinks his omega teeth into Wei Wuxian’s neck, marking his mate, renewing their bond.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Shen Qingqiu lightly tugs on the knot adorning the small of Luo Binghe’s back, before slipping his fingers between the crimson cables and dampened skin. He pats his husband’s hip and stands back up from his crouch. “The knots don’t seem too tight so far. Is the rope hurting you?”

 

Luo Binghe shakes his head, his eyes bright and expression slightly dazed. “It feels nice, Shizun.” 

 

Bending down to gather the rest of the Immortal Binding Cable which pools on the floor, Shen Qingqiu blushes as he comes face-to-face with his husband’s immense and fully erect member. Why are you so big, Binghe! Your protagonist cock is really too huge! He licks his lips when Luo Binghe’s cock twitches, as though it knows it’s being thought about. “Binghe?”

 

When Shen Qingqiu glances up, it’s to see Luo Binghe’s adoring, indulgent face. He is unfairly handsome, even when completely nude except for one loop of crimson rope circling his waist. “Yes, Shizun?”

 

“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu gathers his fraying composure and swallows down his nerves. An image of what he would like to do takes shape in his mind, picturing the cables looping and curving around every swell of his husband’s perfect physique. “Can I do something a little different than what we talked about? I don’t wish to restrain you.”

 

A smile lights up Luo Binghe’s face, eager like a puppy, and yet there’s an edge to it, something gleaming in his eyes, much older and hungrier than mere youthful exuberance. When he opens his mouth to respond, Shen Qingqiu catches a glimpse of his sharp teeth, and a flare of heat blooms in his groin and scorches through his blood. “You can do anything you like to me, Shizun.”

 

“I won’t hurt you,” promises Shen Qingqiu, the words spilling out like a reflex, the weight of another person’s history still heavy on his shoulders. The longer they spend together, he and his husband, sharing love and respect and trust equally between them, the lighter that burden becomes. 

 

Luo Binghe dips his head, a slight flush spreading over his cheeks and crawling down his chest. When he looks back up, he stares right into Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, steady and sure. “This husband knows Shizun would never hurt him.”

 

The words wrap around Shen Qingqiu’s heart like a soothing balm or a cozy blanket and for a moment he considers untying the one knot of the Immortal Binding Cable so he can sit on Luo Binghe’s lap, curled up like a cat as he cuddles into an expansive, warm embrace. 

 

Just as he’s reaching for the knot, the low rumble of his husband’s voice brings him back to their current game. “This husband hopes Shizun will continue tying him up and then fuck him.” Binghe! You can’t just say things like that!!!

 

Shen Qingqiu clenches his hands around the cable, the first loop already attached to Luo Binghe, the rest dangling from his slightly trembling fist, coiling onto the floor. “Binghe.”

 

Luo Binghe smiles at him, guileless and sweet and Shen Qingqiu wants to kiss that smug expression off his face until he can’t even breathe. He huffs and sidles closer to his husband. He picks up the length of cable and begins at the last knot, winding it around the massive body kneeling before him. 

 

“Spread your legs wider, Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu slips into his teacher voice, serious and demanding. “I require room to work between your thighs.”

 

Luo Binghe shifts, his eyes following Shen Qingqiu’s every move as he drops to his knees so they face each other at eye level. “Yes, Shizun.” 

 

Hands dipping between his husband’s legs, Shen Qingqiu purposefully grazes the backs of his fingers along the underside of Luo Binghe’s cock, causing him to buck forward slightly towards him. Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue, and ignores the shudder that wracks through his husband’s body, as well as the accompanying whine. He  runs the Immortal Binding Cable along one side of the dripping erection, weaving it past Luo Binghe’s balls, up through the split of his cheeks, over a hip, and back around to repeat on the other side of his cock, which appears to be growing even thicker and longer with every pass of Shen Qingqiu’s hand. You can’t possibly get any bigger, Binghe! After he’s finished that portion of his ropework, Shen Qingqiu fastens another knot to hold the design in place, struggling to maintain his fraying composure. 

 

Gently, Shen Qingqiu bends down to press his lips against Luo Binghe’s heated length. A few drops of precome stain his mouth, and he rises back to meet his husband’s gaze before licking it off, tongue swiping quickly across his bottom lip. He feels his cheeks burst into flame as he holds Luo Binghe’s hungry gaze, but there is nothing in his hands besides Immortal Binding Cable, and he cannot hide behind that.

 

Luo Binghe leans forward, effortlessly capturing Shen Qingqiu’s mouth in a kiss, practically devouring him as he tilts his head to deepen their connection. Even though his arms are unbound, Luo Binghe keeps them still by his side, using only his lips and tongue to hold Shen Qingqiu in place. 

 

A part of Shen Qingqiu, quite a large part which very much enjoys being pampered by one half-demon lord, yearns to melt into his husband, allowing him to take control of this situation. However, he swiftly recalls the overly satisfied look on that gorgeous face and he draws back, gasping for breath. He kisses the blood-red demon mark on a smooth forehead in apology. “Binghe, enough. I still have more to do.”

 

“Then will Shizun fuck this husband?” Luo Binghe winks at Shen Qingqiu, his eyes wide and innocent looking, despite the heat simmering beneath the gaze.

 

Binghe!!!

 

“Maybe if you’re good, Binghe,” murmurs Shen Qingqiu, barely able to form coherent words as he imagines himself pleasuring his beloved protagonist. They have made love that way before, and it seems to bring Luo Binghe great joy anytime Shen Qingqiu coaxes his perfectly muscled legs apart and thrusts his way home in between them. Slowly, his lingering feelings of inadequacy have fallen away the more comfortable they become with one another’s bodies, with how much pleasure Luo Binghe gets in coupling with Shen Qingqiu regardless of how they do it. Although he still wonders if the doubts will ever truly be gone. 

 

“Now turn around.” Shen Qingqiu watches as Luo Binghe immediately maneuvers himself around, presenting the vast expanse of his chiseled back. “Good, Binghe.”

 

Shen Qingqiu works the remaining length of the Immortal Binding Cable up Luo Binghe’s spine, around his neck, and then under one arm to circle his chest. He brings it around under the other arm until the rope is criss-crossed around the generous and solid curves of his chest, pulled taut to accentuate the bulging muscles. Shen Qingqiu places his palms on his husband’s hips, urging him to turn back around. He gasps when he fully takes in the cut of the crimson cable against Luo Binghe’s flawless skin, one lone scar nearly hidden from view. 

 

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu tips his head down and licks one dusky nipple, erect and pushed up from the pressure of the cables. He revels in the hum of approval from his husband as he raises his hand to pinch the unoccupied nipple while continuing to flick his tongue along the other. His hands drift appreciatively over every bit of skin he can find blindly, fingers digging into the firm flesh of Luo Binghe’s torso. 

 

Using the Immortal Binding Cable lining Luo Binghe’s waist and hips, Shen Qingqiu hooks his free hand underneath a loop and tugs his husband farther forward until they are practically flush against each other. 

 

“Shizun,” whispers Luo Binghe, voice husky and stripped down to naked desire. “Shizun, please.”

 

Shen Qingqiu stands up and forces himself to stay in Luo Binghe’s line of sight as he quickly divests himself of his spring-green robes, the shuffle of fabric deafening in the quiet of their bamboo cottage. He grabs a small vial from the sleeve before glancing at his husband, who waits on his knees, staring openly at Shen Qingqiu. 

 

Luo Binghe’s eyes rake hungrily down Shen Qingqiu’s now exposed body as he walks behind him. He dribbles some oil on his fingers, before placing his dry palm flat on Luo Binghe’s back, slowly tracing over the artwork of the cables. His husband shivers as he kneels, holding himself perfectly still and waiting for Shen Qingqiu to take the lead, and his confidence soars. 

 

Exerting a little pressure against the broad back, Shen Qingqiu pushes Luo Binghe forward. He hardly even recognizes his own throaty voice when he gives a command. “On all fours, Binghe.”

 

“Yes, Shizun.” Shen Qingqiu gulps as his husband presents himself on his hands and knees, decoratively trussed with cables that take away the upper hand of his immense power, not that Luo Binghe would ever use it against him. 

 

Shen Qingqiu drops his hands further down Luo Binghe’s back, using his knee to nudge his thick thighs further apart. He spreads plump cheeks and circles his oiled finger around the tight entrance. Shen Qingqiu gasps at the twitch of his husband’s body as he pushes his finger inside of Luo Binghe’s body, and the stuttered breath that escapes his throat when he adds a second. 

 

After some time finger-fucking his husband, who enthusiastically and vocally encourages more, Shen Qingqiu guides his stiff cock towards Luo Binghe’s prepared hole. “Are you ready, Binghe?”

 

“I am always ready for you,” says Luo Binghe over his shoulder, dark eyes holding only sincerity and love in their depths. 

 

Shen Qingqiu bends down and presses a kiss to sweat-dampened skin, before settling back on his knees. He grips firm hips and slowly sinks into Luo Binghe’s warm and welcoming body.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Mu Qing squirms against the sweat-soaked mattress. He strains his ears for any indication of what is coming, but all he hears is the soft and steady breathing of Xie Lian, who once again seems to be perched next to him on the edge of the bed. Just being in Paradise Manor is unnerving him, and losing the advantage of sight isn't doing his blood pressure any favors. 

 

This scenario has gone on long enough. 

 

When Mu Qing attempts to slow his racing heart and calm his ravenous desire, he thinks he hears footsteps stalk towards him, light and calculating like a predator. The slight dip of the mattress confirms another presence, and he shivers as he thinks of who now sits there, while he is bare and blindfolded and vulnerable lying between Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. His rock-hard cock drips steadily onto his stomach and his aching balls are drawn tightly against his body.

 

“Well?” Mu Qing rasps out into the room, his throat dry from disuse as he has waited. “You’re both here now. Again.”

 

“Mm,” agrees Hua Cheng, using a tone that seems laced with mockery to Mu Qing’s ears. He snorts and turns his head away from the direction where the ghost king’s had come from. He wonders if he is now looking towards Xie Lian. He squints in an attempt to make out his shape, except whatever fabric binds his eyes allows no light to pass through. “Ge ge, do you think your friend is ready?”

 

“San Lang,” chides Xie Lian lightly. “Let’s not tease him anymore. He was calm, but now he seems to be getting agitated again. Mu Qing, are you comfortable?”

 

Mu Qing scoffs, wishing the blindfold hadn’t been tied so taut it makes rolling his eyes uncomfortable. “I’d be more comfortable if you’d just let me-”

 

“Ah ah, is that sass I hear? Allow me to save you from your own temper. Surely such a devoted servant as yourself wouldn’t sass His Highness.” A cool palm lands on Mu Qing’s leg, long and slender fingers caress the skin by his knee, giving one warning squeeze as they dig into his flesh. He snarls and turns his head back towards where he thinks Hua Cheng sits, even though he cannot confirm whose fingers touch him. He is certain they belong to Hua Cheng, especially as their icy length drifts along his skin, grazing his inner thigh before moving away from where he burns and aches to be touched, relocating on his hip. He feels his cock twitch in anticipation, even as an embarrassed flush heats his cheeks and neck.

 

Soft warm lips press onto Mu Qing’s mouth, sweet and gentle, and the earthy, grassy scent of Xie Lian fills his nostrils. He inhales deeply, pushing up slightly to deepen the kiss, but Xie Lian shifts lower. He nips at his chin and his throat as he moves down his overstimulated body, mouthing along the length of his clavicle before circling back to his chest. His hand grasps Mu Qing’s bicep for balance, before flicking his tongue against an erect nipple.

 

“Ahh, Your Highness!” Mu Qing bucks upwards, although the hands on his arm and hip effortlessly hold him down. The combined strength of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng is no match for his naked, supine vulnerability. With no warning, cold fingers curl around his cock and hot lips suck on his nipple, and Mu Qing nearly cries in relief. “Ahhh.”

 

The air shifts by his ear and Mu Qing reflexively flexes his shoulder, but Hua Cheng is too fast. Even his breath is a chill against the shell of his ear, tickling, teasing, but still it burns with promise. “It’s time to be a good boy, or you will have to wait even longer. Aren’t you tired of this game?”

 

Mu Qing nods, frantic for the cold hand to finally move along his throbbing erection, and the warm mouth to return to his body and to continue pleasuring the aroused nubs of his chest. He bows his back, pushing his body up, blindly seeking Xie Lian’s lips, although his skin meets nothing but air. “I’ll be g-good.”

 

“Mu Qing, you know what you have to do.” Xie Lian’s voice is back above him, talented tongue much too far from him. Mu Qing attempts to stifle the whine that whistles through his clenched teeth. He just needs the hand on his cock to move, so engorged it hurts. By this point, even the scarcest of glides against its length will have him reaching a release he has been denied for what feels like an eternity.  

 

“Ge ge,” laughs Hua Cheng, voice dripping with poisoned honey, but Mu Qing would lick it off of his demon tongue if he was allowed. He is desperate at this point, unable to bear another moment of being left alone, edged, abandoned, although he refuses to beg. “He doesn’t seem ready yet.” 

 

“I’m ready,” gasps Mu Qing, his intake of air so rushed he practically chokes on it. “I’m ready!”

 

The brush of Xie Lian’s hair along Mu Qing’s torso causes him to moan and arch up into him. He rolls his hips and licks his bottom lip, mouth hanging open as he pants for breath. His entire body tingles, expectant, tension dancing along every nerve. The fingers curve harder around his cock as he chases delicious icy friction, and Mu Qing almost screams at the sensation. He throws his head back, willing his body to reach that brink faster, before it is taken away. He is being allowed this without lowering himself to a plea. 

 

“So be a good boy and say it, Mu Qing.” Hua Cheng’s hand slides easily down his cock, fisting it firmly at the base, almost to the point of pain, before smoothing back up, twisting over the head with finesse. His palm is slick and cool, a sharp contrast to the pulse of heat coursing through Mu Qing’s blood. His balls clench, ready to bring him to long-awaited orgasm. He can get there without giving in, he’s so close.

 

Mu Qing groans and rocks into Hua Cheng’s hand, fucking into it faster. Warm puffs of breath descend on Mu Qing’s nipples, and he holds his own while he awaits the wet suction of Xie Lian’s talented mouth. Two powerful, immortal beings dangle him over the edge of mindless release, and Mu Qing craves the drop with his entire body. He is a prisoner to their grace but he’s almost there, the coil of fire in his groin spiraling faster and tighter-

 

“Ge ge, he refuses to say the word.” Hua Cheng murmurs, his hand unceremoniously letting go of Mu Qing’s cock, and his weight shifting off the bed. Mu Qing lifts his head in frustration, trying to follow the sound. Muted footsteps slowly cross the room and he hears the slide of a door. “Maybe he’ll be ready the next time.”

 

“Please!” Mu Qing croaks out the word, his entire body scorching hot and trembling, sweat pouring down his skin. “Please! There, I said it! Your Highness….”

 

Xie Lian presses one last kiss to Mu Qing’s parted lips before he also rises from the mattress. “Mu Qing, we will be back. Remember, no touching yourself.” His soft shuffle follows after Hua Cheng and the door closes behind them. 

 

“Fuck!” Mu Qing slams his head back on the bed in frustration, ready to ignore the both of them and their promises so long as he can just get off first. His hand itches to touch himself, a few quick pumps of his hand would be all it takes. With a calming breath, Mu Qing forces himself to relax his mind and steady his pulse, focusing on where he will be when he is willing to swallow his pride and beg for orgasm. It doesn’t require his sight to recall the last time they played this game. He channels all his energy towards imagining his promised reward of being fucked by Hua Cheng while having his mouth stuffed full of Xie Lian’s cock.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Liu Mingyan feels the first tug of her veil and she easily bats away Sha Hualing’s groping hand, the jangle of bracelets loud in the stillness of the bedroom. She glances down to where the demon nuzzles her cleavage. Painted red lips stretch into a smirk, before they purse in exaggeration and leave their dark imprint on pale flesh, and Liu Mingyan feels as though she’s been claimed and marked with a sensual brand. 

 

“Can’t I see you without that thing covering your face?” Sha Hualing pouts as she prowls up Liu Mingyan’s body. Small breasts and erect nippes rub against the sizable mounds of flesh on her chest, and Liu Mingyan gasps at the sensation that courses through her body. “Oh? Did you like that?”

 

Sha Hualing slowly undulates her body up and down and side to side, their breasts rubbing together as she moves. Every time their nipples graze, Liu Mingyan shivers with electric excitement and bites her lip, glad her face is mostly hidden. “Mm.”

 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Sha Hualing ceases her movement, leaning to the side and propping herself over Liu Mingyan’s body with one arm. She uses her free hand to cup the heavy weight of Liu Mingyan’s breast in her palm, thumb flicking over the nipple. “Have you...never been with a woman before? Have you never been with anyone before?”

 

Cheeks heating until it feels as though they are on fire, Liu Mingyan turns her face away. She grits her teeth in an attempt to hide her reactions from the temptress on top of her. She tries to steady her breathing, but when Sha Hualing slides off of her and wraps velvet lips around her nipple, while using her fingers to pinch the other, she cannot help the quiet cry that escapes her. 

 

“How about a man?” Sha Hualing teases as she releases her nipple with a gentle bite. Her tone sounds less vicious than usual. There’s something else weaving through it, an emotion that Liu Mingyan cannot quite place. “Has anyone ever touched you? Like this?” Her breathing sounds ragged as her slender hand moves lower, blazing a trail down Liu Mingyan’s body. She pauses at the slight swell of her abdomen, palm forming itself around the shape.

 

Liu Mingyan is fiercely proud of her body, having earned every one of her muscles through hard work and diligent training. However, she has seen the chiseled torso of her brother and cannot quite replicate it, no matter how hard she tries. Somehow, she is more embarrassed by this than her breasts being groped and licked. The hand against her soft flesh burns like an accusation, and Liu Mingyan’s face blushes darker, hotter. “Don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?” Sha Hualing scoots down the bed, only stopping when her face hovers over Liu Mingyan’s belly. She glances up, nothing except sincerity on her pretty demon face, although it clouds with a slight pout. “I want to admire you. You’re soft, like a woman. I like it. If I wanted to be with someone hard like a man, I would be with your brother or Lord Luo. Maybe even your frigid Sect Master if I thought he could get it up.”

 

High-pitched laughter rings throughout the bedroom and Liu Mingyan forces the image of her brother and Sha Hauling away from her mind with a grimace. All thoughts fly out of her head when the waistband of her undergarments is pulled away from her body and the snug white fabric is tugged down her legs. She lifts her butt off the bed to assist with their removal, sure her cheeks and neck are visibly red even through her veil by this point. It’s the only stitch of clothing left covering any part of her.

 

“What are you going to- haaaaa-” Liu Mingyan throws her arm over her face and squeezes her eyes shut when a hot tongue flicks a sensitive part of her that she has hardly ever touched for herself. Her thighs drop open in silent encouragement, even as her body feels too warm. Lips close around her clit and suck, just once, and Liu Mingyan’s back arches off the bed. 

 

Sha Hualing teases a finger along her folds, dipping the tip of one inside of her body, gentle, mindful of her talon-like fingernails. “You’re sopping wet already. Did you even realize?” She reaches up to grab Liu Mingyan’s free hand and drags it down between her legs. Her fingers are guided shamelessly to her own pussy, and Sha Hualing helps her run her middle finger around her entrance. 

 

“Ahh,” Liu Mingyan rocks down into her own hand, slick juices gathering on her fingers the longer she fondles herself. Sha Hualing takes her own finger and pushes it back inside the dripping mouth of Liu Mingyan’s cunt along with her own, walls thick and warm and twitching around the digits. Her lips are parted underneath the veil, and she pants for air as her wrist is bent with the demon’s assistance. Together, they finger fuck her, and she feels the viscous liquid pooling along her hand, between her legs, surely on Sha Hualing’s hand as well. She tries to clamp her thighs together and pull her hand away, but Sha Hualing has a steadfast grip on her.

 

“But you’re fucking yourself so nicely,” purrs Sha Hualing, gazing up at her through half-lidded eyes as she finally releases Liu Mingyan’s hand. She licks her lips and lowers herself further, the demon now laying flat on her stomach between Liu Mingyan’s trembling legs.

 

Warm puffs of breath hit the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and Liu Mingyan quivers in anticipation, chest heaving as though she’s just finished a particularly lengthy training session. She longs for more stimulation, slightly humiliated at her own desire, as she cups her palms around her breasts, too large for her hands to fully hold. She tries to pinch and roll her nipples the way Sha Hualing had, tugging them slightly to increase the sensation. 

 

A nose nuzzles into her thatch of curls, and Liu Mingyan bucks into the touch. Just as she settles on the mattress, a tongue that feels far too long to be human licks along her opening, and has her throwing her head back in pleasure. A soft, skilled tongue laps at her cunt, dragging up to part her lips and flick over her clit, before sliding back down to push into her body. Liu Mingyan is so wet with her own fluid and Sha Hualing’s saliva she feels it puddling beneath her on the sheets.

 

Pressing her lips together tightly, Liu Mingyan tries to stifle every moan and whimper that threatens to spill out of her mouth. She squeezes the supple flesh of her breasts to relieve the rapidly mounting tension within her groin, thighs heavy, heat spooling within her gut. Sha Hualing fucks her tongue in and out of Liu Mingyan’s hole, steady and rhythmic, while her fingers diddle her clit at a frenetic pace. She grinds down into Sha Hualing’s face, seeking more, deeper, faster, as the string inside of her pulls taut with tension.  

 

Liu Mingyan releases one of her breasts to clutch blindly at dozens of tiny braids, pressing Sha Hualing’s face firmly into her pussy as she rolls her hips up and down, her body moving instinctually. Soft lips open wider and Sha Hualing sinks her tongue inside of her even farther, it’s fluttering length caressing all her walls, coaxing her orgasm closer to the surface. The demon hums as she tongue fucks her, the vibrations thrumming through Liu Mingyan’s body, every nerve ready to ignite as she hovers on the brink of a release she has never experienced. 

 

“Ahh ahh, I’m - ahh!” Liu Mingyan cannot hold back the cries that tumble out of her mouth as her body bows upwards. Her cunt clenches around Sha Hualing’s still exploring tongue, face buried between Liu Mingyan’s legs as she works her through the crashing waves of orgasm. Her hole pulses and her thighs shake as Sha Hualing drinks everything before it can even spurt out of her, swallowing everything with ravenous hunger. 

 

Sha Hualing finally drags her mouth away her Liu Mingyan’s pussy, gazing up at her with a smirk. Her lips and chin are shiny with come and drool and she looks exceedingly smug. “How was that for a first time?”

 

Liu Mingyan stares at her, watching as Sha Hualing shimmies back up the mattress until they are face to face, caging her in with slim arms. Still slightly struggling for breath, she reaches up and tugs aside her veil, tossing it to the side, pleased when bright eyes widen in excitement and disbelief. She uses her strength to flip the demon over, so she now lies flat on her back. Her lips stretch wider, small fangs visible behind a genuine smile.

 

“My turn,” says Liu Mingyan, already lowering her head to capture a dusky pink nipple in her mouth. She has no idea what she’s doing, but believes she’s on the right path when Sha Hualing gasps out a breathy moan and arches her chest up for more.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Lan Huan feels the smile slide off his face the longer he waits for the elevator to arrive at his office floor. It’s quite late, and a part of him longs to go home, order takeout, and sink into a bath where he can lament his inability to say what he means. In his professional life, closing deals is something he excels at, effortlessly putting clients at ease and mediating discussions. However, in his personal life, he rarely steps foot outside his flat because securing a date would require him to actually ask someone to join him for an evening. 

 

A much larger part of Lan Huan feels a burning sort of tension scorching through his veins. He needs a release of some sort, the kind that an evening spent with his hand won’t bring him. He considers the toys he’s got at home, locked in a drawer even though he lives alone. 

 

The display finally dings and indicates the lift’s pending arrival to carry Lan Huan to the ground floor. He’s ready to not think about work, choosing instead to focus his mind on a combination of his prostate probe and his nipple suckers. He enjoys his chest being stimulated and those will do nicely. He almost frowns as he realizes that even his favorite probe isn’t nearly thick enough to really fill him the way he likes best. What Lan Huan craves, no needs , is to be stuffed full with a cock or strap that’s so insanely huge he feels like he might be split in half-

 

The elevator doors whoosh open and one last ding trills through the air. Lan Xichen gulps when he sees who stands in the lift, practically vibrating with annoyance and a heady combination of natural musk and expensive cologne. 

 

“Lan Huan.” Nie Mingjue stares at Lan Huan as though he is the last person he expected to see, even though they work in the same building. 

 

Swallowing past the growing thickness in his throat, and well-aware of an equally quickly growing thickness in his trousers, Lan Huan paints an easy smile on his face. He hopes it reaches his eyes. Despite working in relatively close proximity, they haven’t been alone together since Lan Huan confessed to his childhood friend last year, and then dealt with the ensuing rejection alone. 

 

Alone except for his prostate probe.

 

Lan Huan’s cock twitches against his thigh. He ignores it as he always does unless he’s by himself in the privacy of his own home. It’s been so long since he’s been with a person made of warm flesh and pumping blood, one who moans his name while they come. He wonders what it would feel like to have Nie Mingjue grasping his hips, fingers digging into his flesh and fucking into him from behind like-

 

“Lan Huan?” Nie Mingjue’s voice rumbles straight through Lan Huan, and his groin pulses with desire. He’s so turned on it’s embarrassing. This man does not want him, he made that perfectly clear the last time they spoke for any length of time. “Are you alright? You seem flushed.”

 

Lan Huan focuses, snapping his mind away from useless fantasies. He forces the smile bigger on his face, willing the heat in his cheeks and his groin to go away. “I’m fine, Da Ge. Just fine. What are you doing this late coming up to this floor?”

 

Nie Mingjue scoffs and shakes his head, jabbing the ‘hold door’ button as they start to close. “It’s nothing exciting. I was too lazy to take the stairs one flight down, and my karmic punishment was getting on an elevator going up. Called for by you on practically the top floor. So I’ve been riding this elevator from the second floor all the way up to the 64th.”

 

“I see,” murmurs Lan Huan, mind already drifting away from this conversation. He glances down at his friend’s tanned hands, long, thick fingers with nicely trimmed nails. He pictures those hands gripping his pale skin, leaving bruises on his thighs as he spreads them apart. He lowers his head, inhaling the scent of Lan Huan before nosing at his balls, teasing his rim, plunging his tongue into his hole with the calculated enthusiasm Nie Mingjue attacks all the things he desires. Lan Huan bites his bottom lip to prevent a whimper from filling the silence of the elevator.

 

The elevator doors begin to close. Lan Huan leans past Nie Mingjue to select the first floor so he can finally start his boring night, but a large hand beats him to the control panel. Nie Mingjue presses the ‘stop’ button, and the elevator doors finish closing and then nothing happens. Lan Huan peers over at the other man, who is staring at him with an odd expression on his face. 

 

“What?” Lan Huan feels a bit self-conscious. He shuffles back to his corner of the elevator, glancing back over his shoulder and wondering why Nie Mingjue won’t stop watching him. “What is it?”

 

“You...you look good, Lan Huan.” Nie Mingjue’s ears flush red and he averts his eyes, glaring up at the unmoving floor indicator. A bright red ‘64’ taunts him as he glowers at it. Lan Huan is almost tempted to laugh; Nie Mingjue is exactly the same as he always has been. 

 

“You look good as well,” agrees Lan Huan, an honest compliment tumbling easily off his lips. You’d look better with your lips stretched around my dick, thinks Lan Huan with a grimace. He forces a benign smile in the other man’s direction. Nie Mingjue turns and pins him with a scowl so intense it makes Lan Huan’s knees weak. He grabs the bar that lines the elevator walls. 

 

With an assessing tilt of his head, Nie Mingjue steps away from his side of the elevator and closes the short distance between them. Lan Huan is grateful to be nearly the same height, although that thought doesn’t stop the slight tremble in his legs. His fingers tighten on the support bar as his friend takes one step closer, crowding into his personal space. He reaches one arm on either side of Lan Huan, caging him against the wall.

 

Lan Huan tries to shift backwards. His shoulders press into the wall while his ass digs into the bar between his own hands. His mouth tastes chalky and his throat is parched like ash, every single part of him is thirsty for-

 

Warm, dry lips capture Lan Huan’s own, pressing against him and forcing him to angle his head to deepen their connection. Warning bells ring in his mind, reminding him that Nie Mingjue had rejected him not all that long go. He tries to tune out his inner alarm as he licks inside of the other man’s mouth, which opens easily for him. Their tongues tangle as they kiss, and Lan Huan feels saliva gathering in the corner of his mouth. He draws back, light-headed and panting for breath. Nie Mingjue leans back in and darts his tongue out to lick the drool off Lan Huan’s chin. 

 

“Do you still want this?” Nie Mingjue’s voice is rough and husky and it goes straight to Lan Huan’s groin. 

 

Lan Huan tries to chuckle and flirt, but he’s aware the noise he makes sounds awkward and desperate instead of smooth. “Ah, what do you mean by ‘this’?” His lets go of the bar to rest his palms flat on Nie Mingjue’s chest, ready to push him away, because that’s what he should do, but really he enjoys the solid feel of his friend under his hands far too much. 

 

Nie Mingjue smirks and grasps both of Lan Huan’s wrists. Lan Huan is far from being a small man, usually towering over other people, but somehow having his wrists completely encircled makes him feel almost dainty. He groans and tips his head back, waiting to see what Nie Mingjue will do next. “Turn around.”

 

The ringing in Lan Huan’s head turns to static as all the blood rushes to his erection. “Da Ge… are you sure?”

 

For the first time since this whole bizarre encounter began, Nie Mingue appears uncertain. A slight blush highlights his cheeks, and he glances at the floor. “Only if you still are. Are you?”

 

“Absolutely positive,” laughs Lan Huan, before turning around, palms braced against the elevator wall. Confidence and libido soaring, he glances over his shoulder. “Come and get it, Da Ge.”

 

Before Lan Huan can snap his head back around, eager hands are reaching around him to unclasp his belt buckle, tugging his suit pants and underwear down until they hit the floor. Lan Huan steps out of one leg, as he hears the jangle of another belt being undone, the rustle of dress pants being shucked off. Just as he’s wondering if he has anything useful in his wallet, fingers coated in cold lube spread his cheeks and press against his hole. 

 

“Sorry,” breathes Nie Mingjue. He curls his body over Lan Huan as he mouths at the nape of his neck. Lan Huan tilts his head, baring his throat. Nie Mingjue licks his way over to an ear, teasing the shell with his tongue before sucking his earlobe into his mouth. The hot touch of Nie Mingjue’s lips distracts Lan Huan from the finger circling his entrance, dipping in just a fingertip before pulling back out.

 

Gasping and arching his back for more, Lan Huan spreads his legs wider. Nie Mingjue takes the hint and sinks his finger into his ass down to the knuckle, working it in and out as he loosens Lan Huan from the inside out. The friction along his channel has Lan Huan rolling his hips back into Nie Mingjue’s hand, moaning when a second finger pushes its way inside of his body. The slick slide of two thick digits inside of him ignites his craving for more. Lan Huan wants to be stuffed so full that it feels like his body is being split in half. 

 

“Enough, Da Ge, I’m ready.” Lan Huan takes a few deep breaths for relaxation, even as his heart jackhammers in his chest and the blood rushes in his ears. Nie Mingjue grips underneath one of Lan Huan’s thighs and hoists it up towards the wall, his knee resting on the support bar. Lan Huan feels exposed and vulnerable, and so needy for Nie Mingjue’s cock that he whimpers. “Fuck me.”

 

With a wet squelch, Nie Mingjue breaches Lan Huan’s hole with the fat head of his cock, waiting for him to adjust to his immense girth. The stretch is a delicious ache and Lan Huan rocks back into it, working Nie Mingjue’s member further inside of him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

 

“No Da Ge, you’re just enormous. Go ahead and move.” Lan Huan closes his eyes and lets his body take over as Nie Mingjue drives into him. He bows his back and meets every thrust with vigor. Nie Mingjue uses his hand not propping up Lan Huan’s leg to brace himself on the elevator. He slides it along the wall so they are practically holding hands 

 

Lan Huan’s mouth hangs open, breathy moans escaping him as Nie Mingjue picks up speed, fucking into him with abandon. Lube and sweat drip down his inner thigh, and his whole body shakes with exertion, his forehead banging against the wall with every thrust of Nie Mingjue’s hips. The inferno inside of Lan Huan rages, heat rising fast and high, licking at his walls and threatening to burst out of him. His engorged cock bounces between his still-clothed abdomen and the support bar, any discomfort drowned out by the pleasure tightening his balls and coiling in his groin. 

 

Reaching down to palm at himself, Lan Huan curves his fingers around his cock. He uses Nie Mingjue’s relentless pounding rhythm to fuck himself into his hand, an easy glide with a slight twist of his wrist over the head. His release crackles along the edges of his vision, and he clenches his ass to spur Nie Mingjue closer to the brink. “Da Ge, are you -ahhh- almost there? I’m -ahhhh Da Ge!” 

 

With a sharp cry, Lan Huan spurts come all over his hand, the bottom of his necktie, and the elevator wall. Tremors wrack through his body and he feels himself milk Nie Mingjue’s cock through his erratic, stuttering thrusts. A deep resonant groan fills the elevator as Nie Mingjue paints Lan Huan’s insides with his release. Lan Huan feels every pulse of the other man’s orgasm against his oversensitive walls, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against Nie Mingjue’s hand.

 

Chest still heaving, Lan Huan slowly lowers his leg back down, his hips already aching at being spread so widely. He loosens his necktie and pulls it over his head, using it to dab at his inner thighs. 

 

What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue appears scandalized, like they haven’t just had sex in a corporate elevator. “Your tie? Really?”

 

“Da Ge, I already stained it. Look.” Lan Huan hands over the soiled strip of silk, jaw dropping open when Nie Mingjue tugs it out of his hands. He finds a glob of come and licks it off, staring into Lan Huan’s eyes right while he swallows it down. 

 

Nie Mingjue maintains eye contact, even though he lowers the necktie from his mouth. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know what I was thinking last year, except that I was scared of losing you as a friend and then lost you anyway. I want more. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

 

Lan Huan’s heart batters against his ribcage as a full, genuine smile stretches across his face. “I’ll have you as long as you’re willing to give yourself to me.”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“Lan Huan da-fu,” Wei Ying sidles up to his brother-in-law, tugging slightly on his arm. 

 

Lan Huan glances up from his laptop, where he is fine-tuning data spreadsheets while his brother works overseas tending to the final merger. Normally, Lan Huan is the one to do the personal engagements, and Lan Zhan stays home to do the silent management of the behind the scenes details. Since his brother is happily married and quite a homebody, and Lan Huan is tragically single, this arrangement suits them both fine. However, Lan Zhan had been specifically requested in person for this transaction, and so here Lan Huan is trying to muddle his way through dry documents and even drier numbers. At least he can be mind-numbingly bored while comfortable in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

 

Lan Huan slides the glasses off his face and turns towards Wei Ying, who is plugging in his own laptop. “Are you staying for awhile?” He hopes his brother-in-law is at least staying for dinner - he is enjoyable company and he helps fill the deafening silence of Lan Huan’s solitary life.

 

“I was planning to!” Wei Ying beams his radiant smile in his direction and Lan Huan swears the room brightens. “Lan Zhan and I have something we wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Attention effectively drawn away from his computer, Lan Huan faces his practically vibrating brother-in-law. Wei Ying is clicking and scrolling and frowning at his screen, adjusting its angle as he sets it up. Finally, he gives one last click and spins around. “Alright, so say hi to your brother.”

 

A slightly distorted but quite familiar voice rings out from Wei Ying’s laptop. “Ge.” 

 

Wei Ying rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Not you, Lan Zhan! I was talking to your brother. Lan Huan da-fu, say hi to Lan Zhan!”

 

Lan Huan stifles a smile, wondering if he is supposed to be impressed at the wonders of a video call, when he participates in them on a daily basis at the office. “Good evening, Didi.”

 

“Okay okay, Lan Zhan, shall we ask him? And then maybe he can think about it over dinner, and then we can call you back! It’ll be like you’re here with us.” Wei Ying was staring intently at the screen of his laptop, fingers drumming along the keyboard, knee bouncing up and down. 

 

“Mn,” agrees Lan Zhan, his eyes gazing at his husband, adoration clear even thousands of miles away, connected only through the screen. He raises his fingers and strokes one along his webcam, and Wei Ying preens at the gesture.

 

Clearing his throat in amusement, Lan Huan reminds them of his presence, not that it ever affects their behavior. “What did you have to talk to me about?” 

 

“Oh,” Wei Ying startles and turns around, clasping his hands in front of him. “You don’t have to agree, but the answer is an obvious 'no' if we don’t ask, so we thought we should ask, but there’s no pressure at all-”

 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s calm voice steadies his husband, and Wei Ying laughs nervously. 

 

“Right, right, Lan Zhan.” His brother-in-law heaves a deep breath and starts again. “Lan Huan da-fu, would you be willing to stand-in for your brother?”

 

“Stand in?” Lan Huan furrows his brow in confusion. Unfortunately, his mind goes straight to his job and the role reversal he and Lan Zhan are involved in right now, which obviously isn’t how Wei Ying means. “How so?”

 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Wei Ying frowns, an unusual expression for his face. Then he paints on a smile too big to be authentic as he answers. “Like a stand-in husband, but just for one thing we like to do.”

 

That was not what Lan Huan had been expecting to hear. His heart pounds in his chest and he feels a little light-headed. “Excuse me? Didi?”

 

Lan Zhan sighs so quietly Lan Huan cannot hear it, but he recognizes the slight rise and fall of his tense shoulders. “Wei Ying likes to strip.”

 

Lan Huan chokes on his next inhale, gripping his knees as he bends over trying to regain his composure. A warm hand lands on his shoulder, and Wei Ying lowers himself so they are face to face. “Lan Huan da-fu, what Lan Zhan means is that I have this lap dance I like to give him and that he likes to get, but I can’t quite do it without a lap.”

 

“And you want to use my lap? But what about…” Words escape Lan Huan as his mind spirals around this unusual request. He and his brother have always been quite close, but this feels a little too close. Although, Lan Huan would be lying if he said he hasn’t always appreciated Wei Ying’s petite stature and his delicate bone structure. His face is pretty, his laughter is charming, and his waist is slender before it flares out into a plump derriere and thick thighs that he gets only slightly envious that his brother is allowed to cup and caress whenever the mood strikes. Lan Huan has often wondered if he could span Wei Ying's entire waist with his own large hands and long fingers stretched around it.

 

“Ge, it’s alright.” Lan Zhan’s words are directed at him, and yet Lan Huan flails a bit in his head. He glances over at Wei Ying, whose face is still right beside his, looking concerned. His full pink lips are parted, and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick the lower one before he pulls it back into his mouth. Large grey eyes sparkle at him, long lashes curling like a fan and framing their beauty. Every slow blink of those eyes feels like a siren call to Lan Huan the longer they gaze at one another. 

 

No! Lan Huan's awareness of how much he wants to watch Wei Ying perform a strip tease fills him equal parts hunger and dread, so he begins to pull away from- my younger brother’s husband! Lan Xichen nearly whimpers at the intrusive thought. Wei Ying’s hand curls around his bicep before he goes anywhere. 

 

“Lan Huan da-fu, please. If you want to say no because you are uncomfortable, then we won’t ever ask again.” Wei Ying swallows, and Lan Huan’s eyes flick down to track the bob of his throat. “But Lan Zhan doesn’t like missing the show and I want to perform for him. It’s not quite the same without another body to work with. If you’re worried about our discomfort, there isn’t any. I promise. We promise, right Lan Zhan?”

 

Lan Huan barely hears the hum of approval from Lan Zhan through the roaring in his ears. The breath catches in his throat when his cock stirs to life as Wei Ying grasps his other arm, tugging him to his feet. The younger man guides him to a chair which he hadn’t even noticed sits strategically before the laptop, where Lan Zhan patiently waits for his husband to perform for him. The chair's side faces the screen, so Lan Zhan will see everything, a show put on solely for him.

 

And Lan Huan.

 

What the fuck. Lan Huan is nearly shoved into the chair, but the stumble might be from his fraying nerves and raging libido, as opposed to the manhandling from a surprisingly strong Wei Ying. “What am I supposed to do?”

 

Wei Ying beams at him, then winks and sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “Just watch and enjoy, Lan Huan da-fu. I’ll be right back.”

 

Breathing already strained, Lan Huan sits back against the chair as Wei Ying blows a kiss to the laptop. Then he spins around and holds up one finger for Lan Huan, before striding away to the bathroom. Lan Huan glances at his brother onscreen, but Lan Zhan’s eyes are trained past him, waiting for his husband to reenter the room. 

 

After some time, the lights dim and the synthesized bass-heavy strains of “Pony” shake the room. Lan Huan’s heart pounds when Wei Ying sashays back into the room, tight smoky shirt and artfully torn black jeans, sinfully tight, pulls taut across ample thighs and the generous curve of his ass. He looks taller, and Lan Huan moans under his breath when he sees the black heels adorning Wei Ying’s feet. Lan Huan feels ridiculously shabby in his charcoal sweats and well-worn university intramurals t-shirt.

 

If he thought Wei Ying was attractive before, then the man is absolutely gorgeous strutting towards him right now.

 

Slowly undulating his hips to the beat of the music, body flowing like water, Wei Ying closes his eyes as though the song moves through him as he dances. He reaches on slim arm up above his head, pulling a blood-red ribbon out of his hair, letting his inky waves tumble over his shoulders and down his back. He runs his hand down his face, his neck, his fingers drifting over the slight swell of his chest. He cups himself, biting his lip as he rubs his nipple through transparent fabric. Lan Huan leans forward when the gleam of metal catches his eye, and he sees a simple barbell piercing adorning each of Wei Ying’s nipples. 

 

Wei Ying’s hand slides lower, the music still channeled in every sensual motion. His fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath the fabric to graze along the strip of skin now exposed to the open air and Lan Huan’s eyes. Then, he drops into a low squat, his hands roaming over his ass while he rolls his body. His palms glide down his thighs, groping first along the outside of them, then stroking along their inner length up to his crotch. Gradually, he rises back to his feet, caressing his body the entire journey back to full height. 

 

Fingers back toying with his shirt, Wei Ying lifts the hem up between his pecs, gripping the hem between his teeth. Lan Huan rakes his gaze over Wei Ying’s exposed torso, appreciating his thin waist and lightly defined abdominal muscles. He stares at the achingly slow exposure of his chest, tugging the shirt up with his mouth, body still gyrating to the song. The metal shines, taunting him, as the shirt finally lifts off Wei Ying’s body, and he uses his hand to yank it over his head and toss it at Lan Huan with a leer.

 

Lan Huan clutches the shirt in his hands for want of something to do with his restless energy. If he was a weak man, he would try to touch Wei Ying, but he can’t and he won’t and it would bring neither of them any joy so he simply enjoys the vision for what it is - hot, masculine temptation performing a dance he is allowed to witness, even though it is not for him.

 

The music transitions into “No Diggity”, the smoother tempo matching Wei Ying’s movements as his fingers dip towards the button on his jeans. He flicks it open and drags the zipper down, leaving his fly open as he pops back down into another squat. This time he is right by the coffee table, and Lan Huan worries for his safety for only a moment, before he sees that Wei Ying merely needs the prop so he can hump the table leg. He runs a hand through his flowing hair, and Lan Huan has a new appreciation for his brother’s insistence on his husband keeping his lengthy locks. Wei Ying dances a strip tease like sex on legs and the way he works his hair certainly complements that.

 

Laying back on the floor, Wei Ying shifts his pelvic thrusts towards the air, lifting up his ass to slowly slide his jeans off his backside. Once he does that, Lan Huan leans forward in his chair at the same time Wei Ying gracefully flips himself over and kicks off his heels, before crawling towards him, both hands splayed on the floor. With every move closer, more of each leg is revealed, until Wei Ying is between his legs with his trousers left behind him. Using Lan Huan’s tense knees, the man works himself back onto his feet, wearing nothing more than a thong.

 

A very vibrant thong, eye-catching in shades of crimson, with flames licking along the edges out towards his creamy thighs. Lan Huan gulps and makes sure he doesn’t spare so much as a glance towards the laptop, still shining bright behind Wei Ying - not that he particularly wants to take his eyes off the spectacle in his living room. 

 

“Lan Huan da-fu, do you want me to grind on your lap or would you rather skip that part?” Wei Ying murmurs, resting his palm on Lan Huan’s shoulder. 

 

Lan Huan exhales and stares up into mesmerizing grey eyes, which gaze at him with gleaming curiosity. Never before has he felt so much like a mouse trapped between a cat’s predatory paws, even though he knows he could just say no and this bizarre game would cease. “Go ahead.”

 

Wei Ying’s smile feels like it’s just for him, as a curvy thigh slides over him, and a plump ass fills his lap. He tries to will away the thickening erection in his pants, one that Wei Ying will detect if he continues grinding down on him the way he has started to do. Hips roll against the tops of his thighs, every movement languid and sensual. A furl of heat begins to coil in his gut and warm his groin and Lan Huan barely manages to smother a moan. The blood scorches through his veins at every rub of Wei Ying’s ass on top of him, Lan Huan’s skin on fire at the contact, even through the fabric covering his legs.

 

With his head tossed back and his arms draped loosely around Lan Huan’s neck, Wei Ying appears lost in the moment. His movements pick up speed as the song transitions into “Dance For You”, and the friction between them fans the embers burning low in Lan Huan’s gut into an inferno. Sweat beads at his hairline and his legs tremble underneath Wei Ying, as Lan Huan clenches his jaw, his focus torn between the untenable tension building in the room and the fact that there is nothing he can do to relieve his desire right now even if he wanted to.  

 

One intense grind has Wei Ying further up his lap, and Lan Huan feels the stiff length of Wei Ying’s cock slide along his own, searing like a brand despite the layers of clothing separating them. Lan Huan jerks up his hips, causing one more delicious stroke of contact.

 

Wei Ying gasps, the sound more enticing to Lan Huan than any of the song selections for the erotic dance. The fingers on the nape of Lan Huan's neck tenderly brush his skin before sinking into his hair and pulling hard, sending an ache tingling through his scalp. The undulations on his lap increase in fervor, matching arousals hot with friction as they slide against one another. The music, the lighting, the man atop him, the rub of fabric on his cock has Lan Huan gritting his teeth with every deep roll of Wei Ying's hips.

 

Wei Ying's voice is a whisper, pitched low and sultry. “Er-Gege, please.”

 

They both freeze at those words, the moment stretched taut between them. Grey eyes widen and stare at him, and although Lan Huan braces for casual laughter and ready excuses, his brother-in-law’s mouth stays awkwardly silent. 

 

Didi. Lan Huan stands up, nearly tumbling Wei Ying off his lap. His arms snap out, hands curling around Wei Ying’s bare waist to prevent him from hitting the floor. He shifts him the rest of the way off his shaking legs, averting his eyes while he tries to find scattered clothing. Keeping his eyes riveted on the far corner of the room, the silent glare of the laptop screen a scathing indictment, Lan Huan holds out Wei Ying’s outfit. 

 

“Lan Huan da-fu, it’s fine,” promises Wei Ying, only the faintest quaver in his voice. 

 

Lan Huan sighs, and turns to escape to his bedroom. He is far from fine.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“You will call me by my title or you will leave.” Jin Guangyao’s tone brooks no argument and Jiang Cheng trembles. His bone-deep longing to please this man wages war with his stupid, stubborn pride. He is aware that Jin Guangyao wants this as much as he does and will not let him leave this bedroom until they are both satisfied. An empty threat, spilling off a honeyed tongue, fans the embers burning low in his gut.

 

With his jaw clamped shut and eyes crackling like lightning, Jiang Cheng shakes his head despite the quiver of his thighs under their current strain. His bared skin is slick with sweat, his contorted shoulders shake with tension, yet still he refuses to give in. He doesn’t need this, he’s gone much longer stretches of time without a release. He doesn’t need this, he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t-

 

A yank on the ropes binding his wrists to his ankles has Jiang Cheng groaning through clamped teeth, a shudder wracking his body. He’d rather bite his tongue off than acquiesce. He doesn’t want to give Jin Guangyao the satisfaction of- “You might as well gag me then because I’m not saying it.”

 

One perfectly groomed eyebrow arches, while a smile lights Jin Guangyao’s face - too bright, too eager. Jiang Cheng nearly recoils from its predatory gleam, yet manages to hold his ground. Not that he can properly move, but this man would take note of even the slightest flinch and use it against him. The shuffle of footsteps from behind Jiang Cheng is deafening in the stillness of the Head Cultivator’s luxurious quarters. Jin Guangyao looms before him, a taller stature only due to Jiang Cheng being on his knees, and reaches a delicate hand out to caress his cheek, fingers grazing along his jaw. 

 

Before Jiang Cheng can properly brace himself, the hand ceases brushing his skin to wind back and give his cheek a sharp slap instead. Instantly, reflexive tears gather in the corners of Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and he tries to will away their weakness. The sting and the sound echo in his mind, as soft lips kiss the reddened flesh and gentle fingers stroke the other side of his face. 

 

“Sect Leader Jiang, surely you can show me some face. I believe I’ve earned it.” Jin Guangyao voice is a purr, low and throaty, and Jiang Cheng hates it, hates it, hates it-

 

Liquid fire pools in Jiang Cheng’s groin as soft lips kiss the moisture from his face, so tender and caring, even as the length of rope between his wrists and ankles is viciously tugged again. His muscles scream in agony as they are forced to flex further in accommodation of the harsh treatment. “No,” spits out Jiang Cheng, fighting his urge to obey, obey, obey-

 

“I’m so disappointed in you,” scolds Jin Guangyao, clicking his tongue. His eyes are downcast as though he truly expected more of Jiang Cheng. He’s so skilled at playing this game, their game, although Jin Guangyao is the Queen to his pawn. Every time they sit on opposite sides of the board, Jiang Cheng competes, but he is pathetic and weak to his disgusting need to hear that’s he’s worthy of this man’s time and attention. 

 

“I was so hoping you’d be a good boy tonight, Sect Leader Jiang.” 

 

Jiang Cheng whimpers - so weak, so helpless. His erect cock twitches at the mere hint of approval. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head again, but his lips betray him. He murmurs, quiet, a plea that perhaps the other man might not hear, except Jin Guangyao is aware of everything that happens in Lanling, not least of which in his own bedroom. “I’m a good boy.”

 

“Are you though?” Jin Guangyao’s mocking tone slices deep, a query causing anguish more severe than the burn of the ropes adorning Jiang Cheng’s abraided joints. “You’re misbehaving, Sect Leader Jiang. You are acting quite naughty. You’re being a very bad boy.”

 

This time, the tears that spring to Jiang Cheng’s eyes are emotional as he furiously swings his head from side to side, mumbling denials. “’m good, I’m a good boy.”

 

Jin Guangyao scoffs, although even that dismissive sound carries a poise that has been cultivated to refined elegance. “Then why don’t you show me how good of a boy you can be? Unless you would prefer that I punish you, as bad boys deserve to be punished.”

 

“No, please,” Jiang Cheng’s mind lies low against the ground, where the fog rolls dense and thick, impossible to see through but pleasant to sink into. Hushed pleas tumble off his lips, uncontrollable, spoken with the desperation of a dying man who thirsts for water. “Please, Lianfang-Zun. Please. I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be good for you.”

 

“Hmm.” Jin Guangyao smirks at him, tilting his head in consideration. Jiang Cheng hangs suspended on his assessment, although he is certain of what verdict he craves. He needs to earn the praise, can’t stomach it if it’s empty, meaningless. He has fought too hard, not blindly giving in to this man. He deserves to face his discipline, he is bad, bad, bad-

 

“Please,” whispers Jiang Cheng, yearning for Jin Guangyao’s touch on his damp, sensitive skin. He needs this, he needs, needs, needs-

 

Jin Guangyao tips up Jiang Cheng’s chin with one finger, and he hungrily lifts his eyes to meet the man’s stern gaze. He may be trussed like livestock, submissive, spread open on his knees, but he will break for no one. Sliding a long piece of fabric out of his sleeve, Jin Guangyao taunts him with a command. “Open up wide, Sect Leader Jiang.”

 

Automatically, Jiang Cheng parts his lips, but only barely, unwilling to fully comply. Jin Guangyao bunches up one end of the ribbon and wrenches a stubborn jaw open with his thumbs. He shoves the balled fabric into Jiang Cheng’s mouth, before winding the rest tightly around his head and tucking it snugly against his hair. He tests the quality of his gag by hooking fingers under the ribbon and pulling. 

 

Jiang Cheng’s head snaps back, and he holds Jin Guangyao’s intense eye contact, a pulse of heat coursing through his body, his stiff cock throbbing and dripping in expectation. As his heart pounds in his chest, Jiang Cheng silently glares up at the other man, refusing to make a sound. 

 

Jin Guangyao hums. “Yes, definitely punishment for you, Sect Leader Jiang. You must learn to behave, as a good boy should.”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Jin Guangyao loosens the ropes securing Jiang Cheng’s wrists to his ankles. A tremor of excitement shivers through him at the muffled whimper for this small mercy. He caresses the pink, irritated skin, lifting the other man’s hands to his mouth so he can kiss the chafed joints, a gentle, silent apology with his lips. 

 

“Get on all fours, Sect Leader Jiang.” Jin Guangyao releases his wrists after one final caress, appreciating the hidden strength underneath their delicate, slender appearance. 

 

Jiang Cheng turns his head, glaring at Jin Guangyao out of the corner of his eye. The stormy grey is practically crackling with energy, purple lightning dancing around the iris. This visual protest amuses Jin Guangyao, never softening no matter how often they liaise in this manner. It also arouses him - the fierce resistance, the power struggle that Jiang Cheng pretends to engage in, when they both know with utter certainty who holds the upper hand. 

 

It is undeniably Jiang Cheng.

 

This other man decides exactly how their game will unfold every time, holding Jin Guangyao captive in the palm of his hand. They play only when he chooses to arrive in Lanling, they halt and shift tempo whenever he demands it - Jin Guangyao feeds off their dynamic so hungrily that he thinks he might starve if he ever pushed back and ignored the other’s lead. Given his penchant for control, it frightens him how enamored and addicted he has become to the flavor of Jiang Cheng. 

 

Clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, Jin Guangyao reissues his command. “I said, get on all fours.”

 

With a snort, Jiang Cheng drops his head and lowers his hands, laying them flat on the floor, fingers splayed out for balance. With his ankles still bound by the rope, the roundness of his ass is accentuated and on full display, tempting Jin Guangyao, who responds with a small moan that belies his indifference.

 

Keeping his movements light, Jin Guangyao sinks to his knees and runs a palm over the meat of one cheek, luring a quiet groan out of Jiang Cheng. He sighs, licking his bottom lip. “It’s really too unfortunate that you behaved so badly, Sect Leader Jiang. I truly hate to punish you like this.”

 

Jiang Cheng attempts to speak through the gag, words garbled but the needy tone loud and clear. He jerks his head to the side and frowns back at him, although his body rocks back into the tender petting of his skin. “Mmrrph!”

 

Before he even consciously decides it, Jin Guangyao uses the hand not occupied with groping Jiang Cheng to reach for the ribbon. One quick tug loosens it from Jiang Cheng’s head, and he pulls the drenched fabric out of a snarling mouth. “Good. Now you can keep count.”

 

“What?” Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen as he watches him. He stretches his jaw and runs his tongue first along his top lip, and then along the bottom lip. Jin Guangyao’s palm squeezes supple flesh as he tracks the motion. Fleeting thoughts dance through his mind as his imagination wanders. He ponders what it would be like to turn this game into something more real. He longs to gently lay his brash submissive down on the floor and straddle his hips, hands cupping his face as he kisses him until they are both dizzy and breathless. He would worship Jiang Cheng if he were allowed.

 

Jin Guangyao wonders if he would be embraced in return or bucked off in disgust and annoyance, Jiang Cheng far too important to the cultivation world to sully his reputation with a connection to him. He probably wishes they did not even have a nephew in common. He huffs out a breath - derisive, annoyed. This is not the proper mindset for this activity and he has not prepared the other man’s psyche or body, but he finds he does not care. If Jiang Cheng does not want this, he is quite strong and can fend for himself.

 

“I said count, Sect Leader Jiang.” Jin Guangyao leers at him as he rises to his feet and assumes his position behind Jiang Cheng. He’ll teach him not to think of himself as superior to Jin Guangyao, simply because they have wildly different histories. They are both sons of Yunmeng and they are both sect leaders. Jiang Cheng has no right-

 

Jiang Cheng gasps as the sharp sting from the flat of Jin Guangyao’s palm fully registers. His chin tucked securely against his chest, he says nothing, as though Jin Guangyao’s orders are meaningless, as worthless as he himself must appear to Jiang Cheng.

 

Jiang Cheng’s flesh is still quivering when Jin Guangyao winds up and smacks in the same spot again, far too hard, far too brutal for their play. He hits his ass twice more in rapid succession, one cheek quickly turning an angry red. “You are falling behind, Sect Leader Jiang. It’s time you started obeying me.”

 

Head snapping up and whipping around, Jiang Cheng pins him with a glare, a growl rumbling out of his throat that sounds nearly feral. “One. Two. Three. Four. Jin Guangyao, what the fuck is your problem?”

 

“Now, now, Sect Leader Jiang, let’s not continue to be a bad boy,” begins Jin Guangyao. The defensive placating smile is already dripping off his lips when he stops. Words suddenly stuck in his throat, he gazes back at Jiang Cheng, whose eyes have lost their alluring haze and returned to their usual keen clarity. They stare at one another, the game shifting beneath their feet, everything suddenly on unsteady ground. “Jiang Wanyin.”

 

“Jin Guangyao,” replies Jiang Cheng, voice a clear challenge, even though all he has uttered is his name. 

 

Swallowing, Jin Guangyao gathers his fraying composure and collects his spiraling thoughts. Although unsure if his touch is even welcome anymore, he tentatively lowers his hand back onto Jiang Cheng’s body. He smooths his palm over the flushed, marked skin, horrified at his lack of control. He has turned this man’s skin many more varied shades than this, but this hue is only present due to a flustered, irrational rage. Jin Guangyao should apologize, he has the power to make this right. However, as always, his fate rests with someone else deciding if he is worth the effort of forgiveness, acceptance, trust. 

 

As has been the case throughout their entire relationship, or whatever defines the dynamic between them, Jiang Cheng holds all the control. 

 

“Did you get all that out of your system? Are you better now, Jin Guangyao? Or am I supposed to keep kneeling here accepting harsher treatment than I ever received at the end of my mother’s whip as a child? Because if so, then we need to redefine what the fuck it is that we’re doing here.” Jiang Cheng’s harsh query snaps Jin Guangyao back to attention and away from the murky insecure depths he had been about to sink into.

 

“Jiang Wanyin, do you wish to continue?” Jin Guangyao continues to caress Jiang Cheng’s backside, featherlight touches with nothing behind them except concern for the other man’s well-being. His own can be dealt with at another time. He lowers himself, closing his eyes and kissing the struck flesh.  

 

Blinking, Jiang Cheng assesses Jin Guangyao. His disposition burns as fiery as ever as it radiates off him in waves, but the set to his jaw is relaxed and the perpetual crease between his eyebrows is absent. His lips quirk up into a small smile, and he tilts his head to bare his neck, presenting himself as he again faces forward, open and vulnerable.  “Sect Leader Jin, I want to be a good boy for you. I was naughty and I deserve this punishment.”

 

“Sect Leader Jiang…” Jin Guangyao’s heart thunders in his ears and the blood rushes to his groin at the words. Jiang Cheng’s seemingly effortless slip back into their game paints him in a slightly new light. Perhaps, these roles are more vital to both of them than Jin Guangyao had ever realized. Although he viscerally craves the reminder that he is important, respected, and a person to be treated with an intimidated deference, maybe Jiang Cheng holds an equally powerful and bitter yearning for his ego to be stroked with praise and approval. They both desire the illusion they have created together, and in playing their game, they both fulfill an aching void within themselves.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“Aww, aren’t you going to purr for me, Kitten?” Feng Xin taunts as he loops the leash around his fingers. “You can purr and crawl at the same time, can’t you?”

 

Mu Qing grits his teeth as one more tug on the leash jerks his neck backwards. Part of him longs to bare his teeth and hiss at Feng Xin, except that is exactly what the smug bastard is probably hoping will happen. He growls instead, only earning a chuckle and a condescending pat to his head. 

 

“You’d think this would be enough reason for you to try harder to best me when we spar,” taunts Feng Xin, a leer on his face and a gleam in his eye. “Maybe next time you’ll manage it.”

 

Fuck you. Mu Qing does manage a hiss somehow, wrenching the sound from where it is buried alongside his stung pride. If he was allowed to speak, he would challenge Feng Xin to another round right here, right now. Instead, he glances over his shoulder to glare at the man on two feet instead. It hurts his neck, looking up so high from his angle down on all fours, but it’s worth it to see the slight flinch from Feng Xin. 

 

Another harsh tug on the leash and Mu Qing spins around, yanking the leash out of Feng Xin’s arrogant fist as he rises to his knees. The expression of surprise on the other’s face is almost worth this degradation. Almost. He wraps one arm around Feng Xin’s knee and forces it to bend forward, causing him to stumble backwards. Before he can fully correct his balance, Mu Qing does the same to the other leg, and brings the proud archer crashing to the floor, where he lands forcefully on his backside. 

 

“What the fuck!” Feng Xin shouts at him as he rubs idly at his sore backside, but Mu Qing merely smirks back at him. He daintily lifts one hand, curls it into a loose fist, and starts to lick his skin. He even tilts his head to gaze down and watch Feng Xin with wide eyes. Two can play this game, asshole.

 

“Meow?” Mu Qing forces as much rumble into his mewl as he possibly can, given that he’s a man. His nose twitches and he would give anything to tease this rigid man with actual whiskers - flicking them on his face, brushing them along haughty cheekbones, seeing him ogle as they spasm uncontrollably as he comes underneath Feng Xin.

 

Feng Xin forgets his ire in favor of obvious lust and maneuvers himself onto his own knees, watching Mu Qing pretend to groom himself. He reaches out and runs a finger reverently along the collar adorning his neck. When he speaks, his voice is breathless, as though he already teeters on an edge that Mu Qing would happily shove him off. “Kitten. Get on your knees.”

 

Mu Qing snorts inelegantly and spins around, then lowers his hands back to the floor, fingers splayed. It takes all his self-control to not mock the other man for commanding him to kneel when he’s been doing nothing except kneel for however long now. Just as he’s considering breaking role for a sassy remark, there’s a rough tug to his pants and undergarments. The retort that had been hot on his tongue chokes itself in his throat. Large, calloused hands roam his flesh, groping and squeezing his ass with vigor. 

 

“Hahhhh,” moans Mu Qing in surprise, unfeline in nature but painfully honest. He fingers curl against the floor, knuckles white, as he rolls his hips back into Feng Xin’s touch. 

 

One hand leaves his body and before he can whine for it to return, its being held in front of his face. “Spit.” 

 

With a grimace and a genuine hiss, Mu Qing spits into the expectant palm. His groin burns as a curl of heat begins to unfurl within him.

 

“Again,” orders Feng Xin. His voice already sounds wrecked, and it is that knowledge alone that keeps Mu Qing from biting the waggling fingers in front of him. He spits once more, trying to put the fact that his mouth is watering to good use. He leans down and licks a slow stripe along the underside of Feng Xin’s middle finger, heart racing at the broken gasp he hears. 

 

Feng Xin takes his hand back and shoves it between Mu Qing’s legs. He realizes it’s his own saliva that drips along his skin, and he instinctively closes his legs, although the teasing drag of a thumb on his balls makes him shudder. Feng Xin works his hand back and forth, before slipping it back out. Mu Qing hears the rustle and jangle of clothes being shed, and glances over his shoulder to catch an eyeful of a thoroughly debauched Feng Xin, tunic in disarray and completely bare from the waist down.

 

“Turn back around,” utters Feng Xin, trying to glare at him. He reaches up to pet at Mu Qing’s head, scratching at one ear.

 

Mu Qing growls and narrows his eyes, but faces the front. He spreads his legs and awaits the stretch, the burn, the girth of Feng Xin’s long, deft fingers, skilled from his bow but even more adept at pleasuring Mu Qing. The fat head of Feng Xin’s cock presses against the lower curve of his ass, running down the cleft until he reaches the crux of his thighs. The crown teases along his taint, and fingers tap insistently at Mu Qing’s hips.

 

“Push your legs together.” Feng Xin tries to coax him with the heels of his palms, but Mu Qing resists, causing the other to huff. “What the fuck, just do it!”

 

Mu Qing quivers in indignation, but also hangs expectantly on what new experience Feng Xin wants to try with him. He maneuvers his hands to accommodate this slightly awkward position, and moves his thighs closer together. “Meow?”

 

“Tighter, Kitten.” Feng Xin runs his palms, damp and trembling, down the outside of Mu Qing’s thighs, shoving them towards one another. 

 

An electric jolt races up Mu Qing’s spine when his legs clamp around Feng Xin’s throbbing erection. He feels it pulsing against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and the thin skin of his sack. His own length stiffens in response, hanging proudly underneath his abdomen as he waits on all fours, tension taut in every line of his body. Feng Xin’s legs bracket his, and scorching palms rest easily on his trim waist. 

 

Drawing back, Feng Xin drags himself out from the cradle of Mu Qing’s legs, before he rocks forward. He fucks Mu Qing’s thighs, slowly at first, but picking up speed as he adjusts to the angle and depth of penetration.

 

Mu Qing can’t control the moans which spill out of his mouth with abandon. His jaw hangs open as he bucks his body back into Feng Xin’s thick cock, whimpering as it rubs along his skin, his balls, the underside of his own erect member with every deep thrust. He peers down with bleary eyes to watch pearly precome bead along the tip of his erection, before it drips onto the floor. Mu Qing is glad for the game right now, because coherent thoughts elude him as he chases new sensation. 

 

“Fuck, you’re tight like this,” breathes Feng Xin, as his fingers dig into his waist. As he rolls his pelvis forward, he tugs Mu Qing’s body back to meet him, balls slapping against the backs of his thighs. 

 

Mu Qing pretends to grit his teeth, except they both know he adores being handled roughly and effortlessly in Feng Xin’s firm grip. Despite longing for equal footing in the heavens, in Feng Xin’s embrace he gets turned on by the other man’s impressive height and width and muscled legs and broad shoulders and fuck, he’s so big everywhere-

 

“Nnrgh,” pants Mu Qing, trying to hold his thighs even closer together to increase that delicious friction. 

 

Doubling his efforts, Feng Xin fucks harder and faster between Mu Qing’s legs, the glide hot and wet. He reaches around to grasp Mu Qing’s aching cock, curving his hand lightly around its length as he strokes smoothly from root to tip. He bends forward, lips grazing the edge of Mu Qing’s ear as he whispers. “I’m close. Can you come for me, Kitten?”

 

That request, delivered exactly like that, is enough for Mu Qing to focus on the white-hot flare that ignites deep and low within him, radiating outwards as it scorches through his veins. His orgasm rips through him and he shouts, as his release paints the floor beneath him, thighs shaking as it crashes over him like waves. The clench of his legs spurs on Feng Xin, who groans as he drenches Mu Qing’s cock and belly with his come.

 

Feng Xin rests his sweaty forehead on Mu Qing’s shoulder. “Fuck. We should do that more often.” His hand blindly gropes for the leash, giving a quick tug when he finds it.

 

Twisting around, Mu Qing shoves a still dazed and sated Feng Xin off of him. He jumps to his feet, yet again wrenching the leash out of the other’s unsuspecting hand. “Ready to spar again? We’ll see who the kitten will be next time!”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jiang Cheng demands, glaring over his shoulder, graceful fingers twitching against the wall. Zidian remains cool and dormant, silently contradicting its owner’s protests.

 

Regardless, Lan Wangji empties his hand as though it’s burned, and in a way it has been. The feel of Jiang Cheng’s long, silky hair has left its imprint. Usually, the high strung sect leader’s hair reflects the man himself, pinned up securely and tightly, every strand inflexible as it fulfills its duty atop Jiang Cheng’s head. Lan Wangji wants the loose hair back in his hand, relaxed and free, slipping like the finest fabric between his fingers. He yearns to touch it, hold it, tug it, wrap it around his hand like a leash that he can yank-

 

“Move already,” hisses Jiang Cheng, as he widens his stance at the wall, no doubt trying to get more comfortable while accommodating Lan Wangji’s cock breaching his entrance.

 

Curling one hand more tightly around Jiang Cheng’s hip, unsure what to do with his now empty one, Lan Wangji thrusts forward. He sheathes himself fully, balls tucked snugly under the curve of Jiang Cheng’s plump ass. He groans under his breath at the sudden sensation, the air escaping his mouth and making errant strands of hair dance along the slightly scarred, toned back before him. Jiang Cheng is expectedly tight, but unexpectedly warm and welcoming, squeezing around him, as though coaxing him more deeply into his body.

 

“Hhhhhh,” moans Jiang Cheng, the fingers of one hand clenching around nothing against the wall. Lan Wangji reaches up to cover it, lacing their fingers together. Jiang Cheng tips his head back, resting it against his shoulder. His hair spills down Lan Wangji’s chest, draping over his skin as though it is strands of silk woven just for him. It calls to him, lures him closer, as he fucks into Jiang Cheng, feeling the other’s unbound hair swing against his sensitive skin. 

 

Risking being chided again, Lan Wangji slides his hand up Jiang Cheng’s body, tracing over the jut of his ribs and cupping the slight swell of his heaving chest. He thumbs an erect nipple, earning a moan and a clench around his cock. He gazes down at Jiang Cheng’s face, mouth agape and eyes pinched shut. Just as Lan Wangji is admiring sharp features, leaning down to kiss a forehead lined in concentration, Jiang Cheng lifts his head to rest it on the wall instead. 

 

Lan Wangji wants it back. There’s something vulnerable about Jiang Cheng like this, something soft and gentle, and although he craves the lightning and the thunder of the storms which surround this man, Lan Wangji finds he enjoys this just as much.

 

Thinking that he might be able to persuade Jiang Cheng to rest his head on him again, Lan Wangji silently communicates with his rhythm. He shifts his feet and drops his hand, grasping a thick, sweaty thigh and hoisting it up until Jiang Cheng’s foot dangles in the air. With this new angle, Lan Wangji fucks deeper and harder, vigorously rolling his hips as he pistons in and out. 

 

“Lan...Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng starts to tip his head backwards, but only so he can bang it back into the wall. He lifts himself onto the toes of one foot, and rocks his ass to enthusiastically meet Lan Wangji for every thrust. “Is that all you’ve got?”

 

“Mn,” hums Lan Wangji, unable to focus on words while his blood boils and the heat pools in his pelvis. His balls tighten up against his body and his cock throbs inside of Jiang Cheng. He blankets Jiang Cheng with his torso, enjoying the slide of their damp bodies as they move together. The only thing that separates them is Jiang Cheng’s curtain of hair, soft strands tangling between their skin as they fuck. 

 

With a grunt, Lan Wangji lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hand, not enjoying the distressed whimper from the other man at the loss. Lan Wangji sweeps his fingers along Jiang Cheng’s neck, gathering all the loose hair into his fist. He smooths down the length and coils it around his hand until he reaches the nape of Jiang Cheng’s neck. Without sparing a thought for whether or not this is a wise idea, he gives an experimental tug.

 

Jiang Cheng jerks his head back slightly, gasping at the new sensation. Despite his protests earlier, Lan Wangji only hears the pleasured sound he just made, the breathy noise that will replay in his mind every night when he takes himself in hand. He wants to hear it again, so he repeats his motion, this time pulling on the hair a little harder. 

 

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng scolds, his tone sharp, but his body betrays him. His hips buck back and his inner walls milk Lan Wangji’s cock. “A….Again.”

 

“Mmm,” groans Lan Wangji, dutifully closing his fist more firmly at the command. His fingers along Jiang Cheng’s thigh tighten as well, digging into supple flesh while he pounds into him. He swallows past any lingering doubt that he might be hurting the other man, and yanks hard on Jiang Cheng’s hair.

 

Jiang Cheng’s head snaps back, cracking into his shoulder, exposing the elegant lines of his slender throat. Lan Wangji watches his mouth fall open in a silent scream while his hips stutter between the wall and Lan Wangji. He feels Jiang Cheng’s orgasm rip through him from the inside out, his ass spasming around his cock, urging him closer to his own release. Keeping his grip firm, Lan Wangji gives a few quick tugs to Jiang Cheng’s hair as he fucks his way to his own finish. 

 

Lan Wangji comes with a final wrench to Jiang Cheng’s hair, a quiet moan escaping them both. He struggles to regain his breath, dropping Jiang Cheng’s thigh in favor of wrapping his arm around his waist and holding him close. He turns his head and kisses Jiang Cheng’s temple, lips wiping away salty sweat from thin skin. Stormy blue eyes fly open at the gesture, pinning him with the intensity of his gaze. 

 

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Wangji tips his head, not breaking eye contact because looking at Jiang Cheng is always mesmerizing, captivating. 

 

Clicking his tongue, although Lan Wangji can see that the feigned annoyance is a cover for something else, Jiang Cheng smirks. “You can let go of my hair now.”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Qi Qingqi smiles serenely at the silently glowering man on her bed, as she fastens the closures on her hips. She wiggles once, readjusting the two harness straps so they lie comfortably snug against her pussy, leaving her partially exposed and accessible. She gazes down at her fellow peak lord, amused at his reticence.

 

“Well? You said you wanted to know all about sex, so why do you look like you’d rather kill someone?” Qi Qingqi admires the blush that blooms on the man’s cheeks, slowly spreading across the bridge of his nose and over to his ears, then crawling down his chest until his skin blends right into his nipples. Her eyes follow the rosy flush and it’s sweet innocence. Liu Qingge has killed demons and men alike with his bare hands, not to even mention how lethal he is with his weapon, and yet the thought of touching and being touched is enough to make him turn pink like an inexperienced maiden. He’s adorable, and certainly the burliest, handsomest person Qi Qingqi has ever had in her bed. 

 

“I know how to fight,” counters Liu Qingge, the furrow deepening between his eyebrows. He holds her eye contact though, not even flinching at the massive cock standing proudly between her legs. 

 

Qi Qingqi laughs, but she’s sure to do it quietly, as though Liu Qingge is also in on the joke. She would hate to damage his fragile masculine pride so early in their activities. Despite her strapping on a dildo, she wonders if he has any idea how this is going to go down. That blush tells her that he knows nothing. “And you’d rather fight than fuck?”

 

Cheeks darkening into more of a flaming red, Liu Qingge swallows and turns his head, as though he wants to stop looking at her, but some shred of fierce pride must steady him. His eyes remain locked on hers. “Something like that.” Liu Qingge mumbles, a slight tremble to his chin before he visibly grits his teeth. Something about him reminds her of a snarling dog and she kneels beside him on the bed.

 

“Relax, Liu-shidi. I’ll take care of you.” Qi Qingqi raises her eyebrows at him, awaiting his explicit consent. She leans over to her bedside table, making sure her body grazes Liu Qingge’s rigidly held form. She needs him to relax and literally unclench. Her breasts brush his arm, so thick and muscular she can feel its firmness against her sensitive skin. A frisson of pleasure shudders through her at the knowledge that the Bai Zhan Peak Lord sought her out for sex and she’s about to show him how she gets it done. 

 

Grabbing the jasmine-scented oil, Qi Qingqi resumes her kneeling position. She uncorks the jug and pours some oil into her palm, before slathering it liberally all over her dick. She closes her eyes and rocks into the movement. Even though this evening is a tutorial, she needs to get into the mood. She skims a palm up her torso, cupping one breast and massaging her nipple, while she rolls her hips forward, fucking into her oiled hand. She finishes with a sigh, her head pleasantly hazy and her lips pleasantly wet, and sets the jug on the bed, ready for oiling up-

 

“Liu-shidi?” Qi Qingqi gently shakes the man’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his daze. “Liu-shidi, are you alright?”



“What’s the oil for?” Liu Qingge’s voice sounds wrecked and Qi Qingqi hasn’t even done anything yet. 

 

“To ease the way,” replies Qi Qingqi, glad that question was easy to answer. She pats Liu Qingge’s shoulders. “Why don’t you turn around and get on all fours. That will make things easier.”

 

As Liu Qingge maneuvers himself atop the mattress, situating himself as instructed, Qi Qingqi sees his blush extends all the way along his back. Gently, she places her palms on the toned, trim back, solid underneath her hand. She runs her hands up to his shoulders and then slowly down to the swell of his ass, round and hard. Every part of him is packed with corded muscle and it’s so very different from the soft pliant flesh in which she normally seeks mutual pleasure. 

 

Turning to look over his shoulder at her, Liu Qingge tenses. “Ease the way?” He peers down at the cock she wears, curious, until everything must click for him in one scandalous moment. 

 

Before he can work himself up into a state, Qi Qingqi rubs his hip. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t wish, Liu-shidi. But you should be aware that I won’t do it any other way with you.”

 

“But… but you’re… you’re a…” Liu Qingge sputters as he stares at the dildo. Despite his mental flailing, his body visibly relaxes as she continues to stroke his skin, so she maintains her easy rhythm, thumb circling his flesh.

 

Qi Qingqi finishes his thought for him. “I’m a woman? You’re a man?”

 

“Exactly! I’m supposed to…” Liu Qingge gestures with one hand, a crude thrusting motion which makes Qi Qingqi chuckle. He glances at her, incredulous. “Are you laughing at me?”

 

“No,” reassures Qi Qingqi, dropping her hand slightly to smooth over an entire cheek from top to bottom. “You’ll be the only man I’ll have ever been with.”

 

Liu Qingge’s eyes widen. “I thought… but you seem to know…” 

 

“I like sex with women, Liu-shidi. However, I am more than willing and honored to teach you.” Qi Qingqi points down to her cock. “But this is the only way I’ll fuck you.”

 

Grabbing the jar of oil, Qi Qingqi thinks it might be better to just show the man what she means. She pours more on her fingers and runs a slick finger down the cleft of Liu Qingge’s ass. He gasps at the intrusion, but bucks back into her touch. She uses that as encouragement, and circles his entrance with the tip of her finger, scratching her fingernail ever so lightly along the tight rim. A shudder wracks through his buff body and Qi Qingqi smirks to herself.

 

“Are you going to…” Liu Qingge gets stuck on his words, trailing off when Qi Qingqi stills her hand and watches him. She could be entertained by the variety of colors adorning his skin for a long while. “Will you…”

 

Qi Qingqi raises her eyebrows. “Put my cock inside of you, Liu-shidi?”

 

“Yes, please.” Liu Qingge chokes on those words and snaps his head back around, laying his forehead against the mattress, his ass rising higher in the air at the movement. Qi Qingqi traces the rim one more time, before she sinks one finger into his tight hole, breaching his body enough for him to grow accustomed to the intrusion. She works her finger in and out, slowly, just up to the first knuckle. The man’s back and thighs are coated in sweat and his legs tremble. She watches the rapid rise and fall of his back. 

 

“Breathe, Liu-shidi. I’ll make it so it doesn't hurt you. I’ll take good care of you, if you’ll let me.” Qi Qingqi presses a kiss to Liu Qingge’s lower back, as she continues thrusting her finger into his body, driving deeper and faster with each plunge. Before he probably even realizes it, she has one finger completely buried in his ass. She rubs against his walls, relaxing them as she spreads the oil inside of him.

 

“Is there more?” Liu Qingge murmurs out, his voice pitched low and needy, not quite a whine but a vague trace of desperation laces the tone. “Will you do... more?”

 

“Would Liu-shidi like more?” Qi Qingqi waits for the assent, which comes as a vigorous nod far more enthusiastically than she might have guessed. She drives a second finger into the man’s slowly loosening channel. She strokes his inner walls and listens to his stuttered breathing and quiet moaning. 

 

Surprisingly, his hushed mewls of pleasure turn Qi Qingqi on, her thighs growing heavy and her cunt pulsing with desire. She feels liquid heat pool between her thighs, and she slips between the gap in the straps to finger herself while she fingers Liu Qingge. Lightly, she circles around her clit, slow circles at first which she rolls her body up into, then increasing in speed as she seeks more stimulation. Her eyes flutter closed and her breathing quickens, and she hears Liu Qingge’s increase as well, a throaty groan escaping the normally tight-lipped man. 

 

Qi Qingqi opens her eyes to realize her fingers are fucking into his hole with abandon, pleasuring him at the same tempo as she was pleasuring herself. She swallows and ceases her fingers on both their bodies, although the sight before her is quite a lewd and tempting one. “Is Liu-shidi ready for my cock?”

 

A fierce glare is sent her direction, and Liu Qingge’s neck appears to be practically burning. He mumbles out an answer before hanging his head and avoiding her eyes. “Yes.” 

 

Shifting behind him, Qi Qingqi gets behind him, straddling his legs and gripping his hips. “I’m going to enter you now. Tell me to stop if you need me to stop.”

 

Tugging Liu Qingge even closer, Qi Qingqi rocks forward, maneuvering her cock between his cheeks. She uses her hands to spread them, exposing his stretched hole to her. She lines up and pushes forward, sinking the tip inside of Liu Qingge. He tries to jerk forward, but she holds him firmly in place, giving him time to adjust. 

 

“Breathe, Liu-shidi,” instructs Qi Qingqi, back to rubbing soothing circles into his flesh. 

 

“Okay. Okay… is there more? Will you move?” Liu Qingge asks, voice so pure and direct, it almost pains Qi Qingqi to fuck that innocence right out of him. However, she was asked for assistance and education and so she will deliver both to the best of her ability.

 

“I’m going to fuck you now, Liu-shidi.” Qi Qingqi drives her pelvis forward, pushing her cock deeply into Liu Qingge’s body. She rocks back, pulling out until just the fat crown stretches his rim, then plunges back in. She maintains a steady rhythm, listening to the man’s changes in breathing and reactions until he practically hangs on her every thrust. He rolls his body forward and grinds back into her with sensual waves of motion, his body instinctively understanding how to move. 

 

“S’good. It’s good,” whispers Liu Qingge, voice scratchy and sexy, using more words in her presence than he’s probably ever spoken unprovoked. If Qi Qingqi wasn’t so into women, she just might find herself into this one man. He’s quite a picture beneath her - warm flesh fills her palms, erotic sounds fills her ears, a sinewy body undulates against her and fills her senses with desire. Cunt dripping, Qi Qingqi fucks Liu Qingge until he’s a panting, begging mess, limbs taut with tension as his orgasm hangs just out of his reach. Qi Qingqi adjusts her angle and tries to hit one certain gland with her cock-

 

“Ahhhhh!” Liu Qingge comes untouched, spasming around her as he paints the bed with his release. She watches the twitch of every muscle along his back and thighs, bunching underneath his skin. 

 

Qi Qingqi smiles, feeling a bit smug, although she longs to attend to the throbbing in her cunt. She glides a finger between the straps and begins to stroke herself, throwing her head back to focus. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and-

 

“Can I do something?” Liu Qingge has flipped over onto his back, and watches her, attention rapt on her rocking hand. 

 

More than a little turned on, Qi Qingqi doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle the harness and straddle Liu Qingge. “You want to pleasure me?”

 

Eyes widening, Liu Qingge’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Qi Qingqi tracks the motion and knows exactly how he can assist her. 

 

Shifting up his body, Qi Qingqi moves until both her thighs lie astride Liu Qingge’s head. He’s so pretty, she can’t wait to see his gorgeous features slick with her come. She sinks down until she’s practically sitting on his face. He glances up at her, although there is a gleam in his eye that makes her think he’s got something to prove, which is fine by her. “Fuck me with your mouth, Liu-shidi.”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

The glow of the blood pool burns red, like the heat scorching through Wei Wuxian’s veins. He hasn’t eaten or slept in how long, but his pulse pounds resolutely in his bird-bone chest. He’s wasting away and he knows it, he knows, but he cannot bring himself to care. Not now, not when he’s on fire like this. He’s not sure whose hazy image floats through his addled mind. He should rest, instead of wasting time one this idle pleasure, surely a useless escape when he his days are numbered. 

 

They are coming for the Yiling Patriarch, all of them , and yet this liquid heat within Wei Wuxian is the only thing that matters right now. It is purely human and it is taking over all semblance of lucidity, although he wonders when the last time was that he had a clear mind. He welcomes the fog greedily. If it ever lifts, there will be nothing left to shelter his psyche from the anguish always dancing along the periphery, taunting him with its gnarled fingers, trying to lure him in and hold him underneath the surface. His failures will drown him if he thinks too hard about everything he has done. 

 

The images flit relentlessly through Wei Wuxian’s mind, someone refusing to take shape, and yet somehow this faceless specter is the most solid thing about him anymore. His sanity reels in loose coils around him, slithering in and about his form awaiting further instruction. He is fading away except this smoldering fire refuses to relinquish its delirious grip on him - his groin aches with tension, his cock throbs with a need he denies himself. He is no longer real enough to deserve simple pleasures such as these.

 

With a casual flick of his wrist, Wei Wuxian gives a silent command. The tendrils tighten around the base of his cock. A low, guttural groan rips out of him, as his back arches off the cold slab of stone beneath his sweating, fevered body. His hips thrust up into the air, fucking into nothing, chasing anything to bring him to release. Limbs rigid with tension, he has been teetering on the edge of mindless satisfaction for so long that the day has long since melted into night. It’s always dark around Wei Wuxian now, he doesn’t know why he even bothers keeping track of time. The boy is his only tether to life, keeping him from floating off the earthly realm into nothing, crumbling out of existence so the world can carry on without him tainting, smothering everything that grows around him.

 

I don’t deserve this.

 

Another twist of his skeletal fingers and the energy grips tighter, Wei Wuxian whimpering at the onslaught of pain. His balls pulse, clenched snug against his trembling body, desperate to relieve themselves of surely poisonous seed. He grits his teeth, hearing his jaw protest the torture, and squeezes his eyes shut. Frantically, he tries to bring the figure in his imagination into focus, but it’s a shining blur of white, nothing more than the dense rolling fog that blankets his every thought. It’s too bright, so Wei Wuxian snaps his eyes back open, surrounding himself in the comforting embrace of darkness. He stares into the blood pool, matching it’s heartbeat to the one thundering in his ears and throbbing in his cock. 

 

Unable to resist, Wei Wuxian slides his hands down his torso, feeling the sharp length of his collarbone, every ridge of his ribs, the harsh jut of his pelvis, until his fingers curl around his erect length. He strokes once from the head down to the base, mindlessly seeking orgasm, but the tight hold of the resentful energy choking it off burns him when he brushes up against it. He could unbind himself with a casual wave, nimble fingers issuing commands the tendrils obey without question, but he cannot.

 

I don’t deserve this.  

 

Wei Wuxian tastes nothing but ash and regret in his mouth. He is parched, water a precious resource on a mountain that cannot sustain life. His lips are cracked and brittle, but they are no match for the heart that refuses to give up on him. He throws his hand into his tousled, tangled hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking with all his strength. The surge of pain in his scalp distracts him from the mounting agony between his thighs, which now shake uncontrollably where they lay splayed on the stone slab. His stomach cramps, and he again rolls his hips up into the air to relieve his tension. How easy it would be, how unfairly simple to release the resentful energy and take himself in hand, fucking himself over the edge into temporary oblivion. 

 

Dropping his arm and manipulating his fingers again, Wei Wuxian guides the resentful energy up his body. He doesn’t trust himself to hold out, to remain hovering on the edge, to not give in to his lack of control, he’s weak, weak, weak-

 

With a gasp, liquid tendrils slither around his arms, binding them to his torso. He can just barely move his fingers, enough to give commands, but his hands lie still against his body as he drifts into the flames that ensnare him, fire on his skin. They weave in and around his abdomen and chest, flicking at his nipples until he moans, voice broken with delirious craving. The tendrils circle his neck like a noose, slowly, pulling just tight enough to make his lungs spasm for instinctual survival. When his lips part, the resentful energy invites itself inside of him, sinking into his mouth and caressing his tongue, before thrusting down his throat. Wei Wuxian bucks off the stone, hips circling wildly in the open air, cock aching for friction, stimulation, release. 

 

Bound by the very energy that he claims he can control, Wei Wuxian lets himself hover on the knife edge, a sharp fall awaiting his command if he lets himself give into the humanity. His mouth is fucked until he gags, tears spilling from his eyes and drool pouring from his mouth, and still he refuses to relent. His balls are clenched, his gut in agonizing pain - hunger for food and thirst for oblivion. 

 

I don’t deserve this.

 

With a cry for everyone he has failed, but not for himself, Wei Wuxian curls trembling fingers and focuses his mind. The resentful energy loosens around his cock, wrapping his entire length in its scorching embrace. It glides and squeezes, twisting itself around the head. Whimpering, Wei Wuxian begs for more, more, more-

 

The sleeve of fire milks his cock, firm at the base and working its way up towards the tip in gentle, insistent waves of sensation. With a rush, everything culminates in sharp pleasure, the gossamer image from his mind taking shape before him, white and perfect like clouds, and yet the face of this ghost hovers just beyond the edge of his vision. Wei Wuxian slams his eyes shut as his body bends off the stone slab like a perfect curve, arms tight to his sides, back arching like like a bow. He comes with a raspy scream, the resentful energy disappearing like wisps of smoke from his mouth. His release coats his thighs as his orgasm washes over him, a temporary, soothing release from his mental anguish. 

 

As residual come dribbles down his slowly softening cock, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and realizes his limbs are free, although he has no energy or will to move them. If he was in control of his heart beating, he is sure it would have ceased its rhythm by now. The fleeting high already sinking to a new low, Wei Wuxian curls in on himself and weakly tries to force his body to sleep.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Jiang Cheng can’t take his eyes off the sliver of skin on Wen Ning’s chest, inhumanely pale, a stark contrast to the dark violet of his new YunmengJiang robes. He will have to have another new set custom made and tailored, his own aren’t quite broad enough in the chest. He hadn’t thought to measure Wen Ning when he commissioned these robes for him - the seamstress has asked for the measurements and he had thought it an unimportant detail so instructed her to use his. 

 

An unfortunate mistake. Although, the longer Jiang Cheng stares at a hint of flesh, the more it seems like a happy coincidence. 

 

Some months ago, Wen Ning had been supposed to follow Jin Ling on his journey from Lotus Pier to the Cloud Recesses, and then resume his monitoring of all the junior disciples on their scheduled nighthunts. However, Jiang Cheng had asked him to come back after the first nighthunt, and stay until the next in a few days time. He’s not sure what possessed him to blurt out the request, but he has gotten quite used to Wen Ning’s presence. It’s a comfort, as strange as that realization had initially been. 

 

The first evening Jiang Cheng had invited Wen Ning to walk through the entrance of Lotus Pier, the living corpse had frozen stiffer than usual and stuttered out an excuse to stay out. Hurt, although used to being rejected, Jiang Cheng had felt Zidian cracking along his knuckles as he turned and strode self-defensively back towards his quarters. Less than an incense stick later, a knock on his window frame had startled him out of an unexpected doze at his desk. 

 

It had taken more than an incense stick to get Wen Ning to stop murmuring apologies for the intrusion. 

 

Now, Wen Ning is a frequent visitor to Lotus Pier, coming and going as he pleases and as he has free time, which is getting suspiciously more regular. Jiang Cheng assumes it is Wei Wuxian’s meddling, but he doesn’t really want to ask. 

 

Tonight, the entire evening is before them, and it had begun with Jiang Cheng gifting Wen Ning robes. He still cannot believe his brother never gave Wen Ning anything nicer to wear, but now it’s his own failure to remedy the issue correctly which bothers him. He wanted it to be a surprise for Wen Ning, luxurious and protective fabric in a hue different from dusty black. He had wanted it to be a perfect gift, something for Wen Ning that might actually remind him of-

 

“Jiang W-Wanyin?” Wen Ning watches him, eyes surprisingly emotive. Sometimes Jiang Cheng is shocked at how easily he can read a corpse’s mood based on barely shifting features, since he still cannot tell what the hell Lan Wangji is ever thinking. Right now, Wen Ning seems to be wanting to reassure him. 

 

“Tch, call me Jiang Cheng. There doesn’t need to be formalities between us. I think we’re beyond that.” Since they had begun experimenting with kisses some time ago, courtesy names seem a step backward. Jiang Cheng tries to keep the frown off his face, Wen Ning unfailingly sensitive to his moods. He consciously smooths his face, and even tries to force a small smile.

 

Wen Ning blinks at him. “Are you alright, Jiang Cheng?” 

 

Perhaps the frown looks more natural. Jiang Cheng’s eyes drift back down to the peek of collarbone and the hollow of a long, slender throat. “I’m fine!”

 

Moving more gracefully than anyone technically dead should move, Wen Ning walks towards him. He takes Jiang Cheng’s hand, gently lacing their fingers together. His hands are cold, but it calms the scorch that boils underneath his skin, blood thrumming too fast and too hot through his veins. Jiang Cheng bites his lip, attention drawn back to the pale skin that appears so smooth, so enticing, so-

 

Jiang Cheng swallows and uses his free hand to adjust his own collar - he’s so hot, why is it so hot in here? The sensation of his own tongue flicking out and moistening his bottom lip has him curious about how more of Wen Ning would feel under his fingers. His lips are pliant and soft when they kiss, perhaps his skin is the same. His mind narrows down to one point as he ogles the triangle of flesh displayed on Wen Ning’s chest. 

 

Before he can second guess himself, Jiang Cheng bends down and presses his mouth to Wen Ning, feeling the cool relief of skin that is as perfect as it looks. Sparing one fleeting thought for how his brother possibly managed a feat this incredible, he kisses the corpse’s skin one more time. Wen Ning makes him feel more alive than anyone else has since his siblings both died, except even they did not coax these reactions out of him. He’s not entirely sure what it is that courses through him, sweet and scorching like liquor but smooth and soft like candy.  

 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what it is exactly but he’s slowly becoming addicted to it - feeling high, feeling good, feeling both accepted and acceptable. Wen Ning seems to enjoy spending time with him for no reason beyond the fact that it’s him. Jiang Cheng only understands because his heart beats with the same rhythm. 

 

Hands moving of their own accord, wanting more, Jiang Cheng grasps the edge of violet robes with trembling fingers. He traces along the hem, grazing cool, perfect skin with his blunt nails. A slight shiver wracks through Wen Ning, snapping Jiang Cheng out of his reverie. 

 

“Can I…” Jiang Cheng peers up into clear blue eyes, so deep and sparkling they’re more dynamic and mesmerizing than any body of water in Yunmeng. “Can I touch you?”

 

Wen Ning brightens, lips moving slightly into what Jiang Cheng chooses to believe is a smile. He reaches up and runs a fingertip along Wen Ning’s lips, etching how they look into his memory. 

 

“Wen Ning,” murmurs Jiang Cheng, tearing his focus away from pink lips back to blue eyes. He’s fairly certain he could lose an entire evening staring into-

 

“I l-like when Young Master Jiang touches me,” stammers Wen Ning, voice sounding both confident and tentative at the same time. 

 

A surge of pride swells in a Jiang Cheng. He tips his head and again kisses the scant patch of exposed skin, letting his lips linger as he brushes them reverently over Wen Ning’s chest. His fingers drift lower, tugging on a belt he knows exactly how to remove, undoing ties like he’s done a thousand times over. He fumbles once he has everything loosened and is about to explore Wen Ning’s body for the first time. 

 

“Is this still okay?” Jiang Cheng has harmed this man enough, sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be free of the guilt. Tonight isn’t about that though, and Jiang Cheng forcibly shoves that spiral out of reach. This is about Wen Ning and it’s about him and it’s about them. “I want to touch you everywhere. And please call me by my name, Wen Ning, please.”

 

Jiang Cheng tries to emphasize his point, his hand gripping a waistband, dipping his finger underneath to tease at private, hidden flesh. Wen Ning keens, and yet sounds certain when he finally speaks. “Jiang Cheng. Touch me.”

 

Emboldened by Wen Ning’s confidence, Jiang Cheng sinks to his knees, bringing the other’s pants and undergarments with him, guiding ankles and feet to step out of the legs. He stares up at Wen Ning, holding eye contact as he lifts his hand and curls his fingers around a flaccid cock. 

 

“Can you…?” Jiang Cheng feels oddly bereft at the thought that Wen Ning might not be able to experience everything a living, breathing human can. He strokes gently, scrutinizing every twitch and reaction. 

 

Wen Ning gazes down at him. “Master Wei… he told me once that he thought of everything. He said…”

 

“Why are we talking about my brother!” Jiang Cheng flushes and breaks eye contact. Agile, careful fingers trace along his jaw and tip up his chin. 

 

“B-Because he made it so that I c-can pleasure m-myself.” Wen Ning’s tone sounds the same as ever, except Jiang Cheng hears the nerves in the stutter, the uncertainty of what he’s not saying. 

 

“And how did the idiotic genius manage that?” Jiang Cheng keeps his own voice level, desperate to hear how he can help Wen Ning. 

 

“You need to share spiritual energy, it will give me an...” Wen Ning trails off, and this time he is the one who averts his gaze.

 

Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows. No. Wei Wuxian you are a fucking genius, I hate it. “An erection?” Without even a pause, he grasps Wen Ning’s wrist with one hand, keeping his other lightly stroking Wen Ning’s cock. Closing his eyes, Jiang Cheng channels his spiritual energy into the man before him. Normally, he focuses on the exchange of golden power between two people when he does this, but he's thoroughly distracted right now. In his palm, he feels Wen Ning thicken and stiffen, until he holds a fully erect cock in his hand that isn’t his own.

 

Freezing for a moment, Jiang Cheng peeks up to see how Wen Ning is handling this surge of physicality and intimacy. Blue eyes study him in return, as though he is making sure Jiang Cheng is fine with all of this. A wave of fondness washes over him, and he begins to pleasure Wen Ning in earnest. He grips one thigh to hold himself steady, and slides his hand up and down the pulsing length of Wen Ning. It’s the only part of him that feels warm.

 

Jiang Cheng considers a heart that may not beat but that has somehow made room for him in it. Wen Ning is far warmer than he himself ever will be. 

 

Thinking about what he likes, and listening for subtle cues from Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng pours his focus into this activity. He holds Wen Ning’s erect cock firmly enough to create delicious friction, but loosely enough for a smooth glide. He twists his wrist just slightly over the crown, making sure he rubs the sensitive patch of nerves underneath. His fingers tease along the underside, stroking the vein that runs along the shaft, exerting more pressure with his fingertips as he works from base to tip. 

 

Wen Ning begins to thrust his hips forward, just enough to catch Jiang Cheng’s attention. His eyes are glassy as they stare down at them, and Jiang Cheng wonders if anyone has ever seen Wen Ning like this. His pelvis rocks with instinctual rhythm, soft like the lapping of Yunmeng’s lakes against their shores. Jiang Cheng wants more. 

 

“Fuck my hand,” urges Jiang Cheng, a little breathless. His imagination swims while he pictures it, Wen Ning losing himself to the throes of pleasure as he chases orgasm. “Don’t think about it, just drive into my fist like your body is trying to do.”

 

Kneeling before Wen Ning, there is nowhere Jiang Cheng would rather be. He creates space for Wen Ning, holding his fist open into a channel. When Wen Ning rolls his hips forward with a grunt, and Jiang Cheng’s own aching cock throbs in his pants. He’s never heard a hotter sound and he’ll be playing it over and over in his memory every time he takes himself in hand. 

 

With vigor, Wen Ning fucks himself into Jiang Cheng’s hand. Jiang Cheng rubs circles onto a cool thigh with his thumb, murmuring a nonsense string of encouraging babble. “That’s it, Wen Ning, you’ve got this. Keep going, baby.”

 

With a slight stutter to the rhythm and an increase in the pace, Wen Ning’s thrusts grow more insistent, more urgent, as he closes in on his peak. Small moans tumble past his lips and Jiang Cheng longs to swallow them all with his mouth. 

 

Suddenly a breathy groan wrenches itself out of Wen Ning’s throat, Jiang Cheng feels it rumble and build throughout the corpse’s entire body as it rips up from his gut to explode into the air. What started as a quiet indication of pending release, turns into a roar that shakes the walls and shoots like lightning down Jiang Cheng’s spine. A hand grabs for his hair, and soon Jiang Cheng feels the pain along his scalp as his hair is yanked, snapping his head back. Wen Ning gazes down at him in wonder, blue eyes dark like the night sky. 

 

Jiang Cheng digs his fingers into a bare leg, as Wen Ning fucks himself through his orgasm. Sticky, white come spurts out of Wen Ning’s cock, painting streaks on Jiang Cheng’s chin, neck, and robes. 

 

Panting, Jiang Cheng lets go of Wen Ning’s thigh to wipe his fingers through the mess on his face. He smirks up at Wen Ning, who is looking far too horrified at what had just happened. “I didn’t know you could come. That was fucking hot, just so you know.”

 

Wen Ning bends down and grabs his discarded pants. Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue and tries to push him away as he gets closer, trying to save both a little dignity and the new clothing. Wen Ning easily bats him away and uses his gift to finish cleaning Jiang Cheng’s face and throat. “I’m-”

 

“Don’t you dare apologize for that, you did amazing. That was… Wen Ning, you are…” Jiang Cheng trails off, suddenly a bit embarrassed to finish his thought. 

 

Wen Ning drops to his knees, so they are at eye level. “What were you going to say?”

 

“Tch, just, well… you looked beautiful. Like that.” Jiang Cheng’s cheek is cupped by a cool, calm hand, and he closes his eyes and leans into the tender touch. 

 

Wen Ning kisses his forehead, his temple, along his cheekbone, and the tip of his nose. “I hope to see you look just as beautiful, if you'll let me.”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Lan Huan freezes when he hears his brother-in-law's voice crackling over the intercom. Finally, he pushes the button to grant him entry and paces in front of the door while he waits. He is certain he would remember if Wei Ying had told him he was planning on coming over to visit. Ever since the most bizarre night he has ever spent with this man, or anyone else for that matter, Lan Huan has made himself scarce around Wei Ying and even his own brother, including at work. 

 

With a sigh, Lan Huan opens the door when a sharp knock resounds through his flat. He gapes at the sight that greets him, before remembering his manners and stepping aside to allow entry to both Wei Ying and the nearly identical man standing next to him. 

 

“Good evening, Lan Huan da-fu!” His brother-in-law smiles at him and walks in, sliding his shoes off without even a moment’s hesitation. Despite Lan Huan initial misgivings, he is mostly relieved that there are no hard feelings leftover from the awkward striptease, at least as far as his brother and Wei Ying are concerned. 

 

Lan Huan nods at him and turns back to the other person lingering on his doorstep. Same wild hair, same sharp chin, and yet this man seems a little daintier, softer, prettier. “Good evening, I’m Lan Huan.”

 

Wei Ying slides next him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “This is my cousin, Mo Xuanyu. He just moved here on a job transfer and I promised I’d introduce him to people. Oh, he’s about your age actually, now that I think about it!”

 

“And you came here?” Lan Huan glances at Wei Ying who absent-mindedly taps his chin, before focusing back on Mo Xuanyu, who watches his cousin with a small frown. His smooth, slim cheeks are slightly flushed and his long, graceful fingers fidget with themselves. Despite the nervous twitch, his energy feels calmer than Wei Ying’s. For that Lan Huan is mildly grateful, although he is wholly uncertain as to why he is a stop on this man’s city tour. “It is very nice to meet you. I’m not sure-”

 

“You don’t have to entertain him, Lan Huan da-fu! I can keep showing him around, I just thought it’d be nice for A-Yu to meet someone super nice before letting him loose to meet people on his own.”

 

“A-Ying, my taste in friends isn’t that poor,” argues Mo Xuanyu, his voice even and melodic. Lan Huan already finds himself wanting to hear more of it. He wonders if he has a musical laugh to match, or if he has his cousin’s enthusiastic guffaw that often ends up in theatrics on the floor. “It’s my taste in men you’re hinting at, in which case, I’m not sure I’m looking.”

 

An odd disappointment twinges in Lan Huan’s chest at hearing those words. It’s none of his business who Mo Xuanyu likes or doesn’t like, but the fact he isn’t searching for anyone strikes Lan Huan as a shame. 

 

“What?” Wei Ying stares at him with his mouth open and a twinkle in his eyes. “What’s a shame?”

 

Oh. Lan Huan feels his face get rather warm, as he shakes his head. “I simply meant that it’s a shame that your cousin… isn’t looking for someone.” He cringes internally and peeks over at Mo Xuanyu, who gazes back at him with a complicated expression on his face. Cute.

 

Meanwhile, Wei Ying is positively beaming. “Yes, Lan Huan da-fu, I agree! But then again, I would say the same thing about you, so would Lan Zhan.”

 

What?

 

“What?” Lan Huan blinks at Wei Ying, who is digging in his pocket for his ringing cell phone, which he answers once he pulls it free. 

 

“Lan Zhan! I was just talking about you… oh? Oh, I see. Mhmm, yes I see. I better come home right away.” Wei Ying ends his call and eagerly slips his shoes back on. “That was Lan Zhan. I need to… go back home. Something… has come up! A-Yu, you should stay here though and get to know Lan Huan da-fu.”

 

Oh Lan Zhan, really. Lan Huan narrows his eyes at his brother-in-law, unexpectedly pleased when Mo Xuanyu mirrors the action. 

 

“A-Ying, it’s probably best if I don’t intrude on someone.” Mo Xuanyu glances over at Lan Huan with eyes that are so similar to Wei Ying’s and yet larger and more luminous. Instead of what he would call grey on this man’s cousin, these he would describe as the crashing waves of the ocean after a storm, uncharted depths below a captivating surface and-

 

Ah. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Lan Huan attempts to settle his nerves by playing along with Wei Ying’s flimsy excuse to ditching the two of them, both he and his husband utterly shameless.

 

“No!” Wei Ying chirps as he pulls open the door, clearly ignoring Mo Xuanyu’s tiny whimper of shock. “We’ll take care of… it! See you both later!”

 

Three hours and four empty takeout boxes later, Lan Huan turns to his unexpected dinner companion. “I suppose ordering in wasn’t exactly showing you the city.”

 

“No, it wasn’t, but I don’t mind, Lan Huan.” Mo Xuanyu’s mouth twists into a grimace, and yet all Lan Huan notices are that his cheeks are still pleasantly rosy and his bottom lip looks plump enough to suck on like candy. “Are you sure you don’t mind me calling you so intimately?”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked you to call me that, if I minded,” reassures Lan Huan, reaching out to pat the other man’s knee but pulling back at the last moment. “I could ask the same question of you, Mo Xuanyu.”

 

Mo Xuanyu’s attention seems drawn to his aborted arm movement, staring at Lan Huan’s hand as it hovers awkwardly in the air between them. He sticks a finger in his mouth, casually licking off remnants of his duck sauce. He lifts his so pretty, burnished silver, waves crashing in the sea, beautiful grey eyes up to meet Lan Huan’s. He holds eye contact as he runs his tongue along his index finger’s full length, flicking over the tip. 

 

Without thinking, Lan Huan snaps out and grasps Mo Xuanyu’s wrist, thin and delicate in his hand, halting his movements. His heart pounds in his chest and thunders in his ears. He slides his thumb to locate Mo Xuanyu’s pulse point, hoping he’s not alone in this maelstrom, but the man feels cool and collected. “I can get you a napkin. Or, I can even show you to the sink, where you can wash your hands if you prefer.”

 

Please.

 

Mo Xuanyu goggles at him, before shaking his head and smirking at him, far more composed than Lan Huan. He tugs his arm forward, maneuvering them both until the man’s fingers are so close to his face that Lan Huan could stretch out his own tongue to lick them. The static in his head dampens his sense of reason, he craves a taste, and so he does what any decent person would do in this situation. 

 

“Mo Xuanyu, we really shouldn’t,” murmurs Lan Huan, trying to angle his head further from the temptation of this man’s fingers. He stares at a far corner of the room, ignoring the heat coiling low in his pelvis.

 

Raising an eyebrow, Mo Xuanyu clicks his tongue, regaining Lan Huan’s attention. He reaches out and traces his fingertip along Lan Huan’s bottom lip, running it slowly from one side to the other. Lan Huan feels the flesh bunch up on one side of his mouth, before Mo Xuanyu releases it and it slips back as though nothing happened. The finger returns, this time pulling his lip away from his mouth and sliding along the entire inner length of it, warm and damp. A knuckle grazes his teeth and drool begins to pool in his mouth. Trying to swallow, Lan Huan closes his mouth and forces down a gulp, his lips closing around Mo Xuanyu’s finger in the process. 

 

“Mmm,” hums Mo Xuanyu, and Lan Huan’s heart jackhammers in his chest, sending all the blood rushing to his groin at the sound. He sinks his finger further into Lan Huan’s mouth, lips still pursed around it, the same finger that Mo Xuanyu had just been caressing with his own tongue, now rests against his own. 

 

Scooting forward, Mo Xuanyu’s knee presses into his thigh, and Lan Huan whimpers at the contact. He parts his lips, ready for Mo Xuanyu to pull away, but instead he slides another finger into Lan Huan’s greedy mouth, pressing them both down onto his tongue, a delicious pressure that sends a shiver wracking through his body. Throwing away all restraint, he pushes his tongue up into them, teasing along the gap in between them, from the base up to their tips and back down. Then he runs the flat of his tongue along the same path, enjoying the slight tremble of them in his mouth.

 

Lan Huan’s eyes flutter closed as he focuses on the sensation, listening for the quiet hitches of Mo Xuanyu’s breath. Just as he has his bearings, the other man changes the game. He begins to thrust his fingers into Lan Huan’s mouth, gradually at first and then increasing the tempo. Lan Huan increases the speed of his tongue, trying to keep up, ignoring the saliva spilling out of the corners of his mouth and his shortness of breath. 

 

A moan from Mo Xuanyu has Lan Huan’s cock twitching against his thigh. He opens his mouth for air and another slim finger glides in to join the other two. Three fingers now stroke his tongue, stretching his lips wider, and he wonders how obscene they look like this. With a groan, Lan Huan pushes away that thought to focus on pleasuring the fingers fucking into his mouth with a steady rhythm. 

 

“Can I go deeper?” Mo Xuanyu whispers, his voice closer than Lan Huan remembers. When he opens his eyes, the pretty face is right beside him, lips next to his ear. 

 

Lan Huan nods and mumbles out a yes, somehow making an encouraging noise around Mo Xuanyu’s hand. He laps eagerly along the underside of graceful fingers, desperate for his tongue to keep up. 

 

“Relax your throat,” instructs Mo Xuanyu, soft voice a little breathless. He kisses the sensitive patch of skin underneath his ear, and Lan Huan tips his head and bares his neck, all while suckling on Mo Xuanyu’s insistent fingers. They start to plunge further into his mouth, practically grazing the back of Lan Huan’s throat. He gags, and tears spring to his eyes, but he pushes through it, drawing Mo Xuanyu in deeper. 

 

“Ahhh,” groans Lan Huan. An agile hand cups him through his jeans, gently rubbing his cock, the tempo completely at odds with the vigor in which Mo Xuanyu finger fucks his mouth. The dual sensations make Lan Huan’s head spin, and he slams his eyes shut to sink into the sensual fog. 

 

It has been so long since anyone has touched Lan Huan, Wei Ying’s impromptu and ill-advised lap dance aside, and he has trouble holding off his orgasm. His hips instinctively roll up, practically humping Mo Xuanyu’s eager hand. He feels the impending tension in his balls, his groin pulsing with a base hunger. His jaw drops, and Mo Xuanyu holds his mouth open, exerting a little pressure to hold him in place. Lan Huan’s breath stutters as he fucks himself up against Mo Xuanyu’s palm, about to make a mess of his underwear. Drool spills down his chin and sweat beads along his hairline and yet there’s no room for embarrassment when the only word Lan Huan chants in his mind like a prayer is more, more, more.  

 

Grinding down the heel of his hand and stroking his fingers along his clothed erection, Mo Xuanyu works Lan Huan over the edge. He comes with a moan and a spasm, tongue frantically lapping at the fingers in his mouth. He whines when they drag out of his mouth, only to be replaced by soft, warm lips pressing against his, as Mo Xuanyu throws a leg over his thighs and straddles his lap.

 

“Lan Huan,” purrs Mo Xuanyu, bringing his hands up to cup Lan Huan’s burning cheeks. He kisses the tip of his nose, before resting their foreheads together. “I don’t care about the city. How about you show me some more of you?”

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“Sect Leader Lan, might I have a word?” Nie Huaisang falls in step with Lan Xichen. Unfortunately, he really wishes to return to the Hanshi for the evening, as tonight’s meetings between GusuLan and QingheNie have mercifully drawn to a close. He hasn’t been back to his quarters since their break for food hours ago.

 

Dutifully, Lan Xichen stops. He returns formality with formality, although a part of him itches to return to simpler days when they were honorary brothers. “Of course. What can I do for you, Sect Leader Nie?”

 

“So polite,” pouts Nie Huaisang. He holds out his hand, a fan laying in the open palm of his hand. “I made this for you, as a thank you for inviting Nie Sect to meet with you and GusuLan.”

 

“Little Brother, you already presented gifts to our sect.” Lan Xichen smiles, his heart mollified to see that beyond everything, he is still the open and eager little brother he always has been. The thought is followed by a pang of nostalgia and grief for an older brother no longer with them, but it’s a mild ache compared to how he has felt before. Progress. 

 

“I know,” says Nie Huaisang, a small smile on his face, appearing equally relieved. “But this is just for you, Big Brother.”

 

Lan Xichen takes the proffered fan, running his hands along its elegant length. He dips his head in gratitude. “Thank you, it is quite beautiful. I appreciate the gift. And it’s been good to talk with you again, Little Brother. I really must go now.”

 

“Of course. Put that fan to good use, Big Brother!” Nie Huaisang’s voice rings out after Lan Xichen as he hustles as calmly as he can without breaking Lan Sect rules regarding hurrying through the Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen thinks he must be imagining it, but it sounded like there had been a teasing edge to Nie Huaisang’s words.

 

Quietly, pulling open the door to his quarters, Lan Xichen slips through and eases off his boots. He takes a few moments to slow his breathing, calm his mind, and center himself into the right headspace. He visualizes what awaits him as he steps into the sectioned off sleeping area of the Hanshi. He strains his ears for any sounds and hears nothing.

 

Good boy.  

 

Divesting himself of his complicated outer robes, leaving himself in only thin inner robes and his trousers, Lan Xichen moves towards the screen blocking his view of the bed. He realizes he is still holding the gifted fan, and he taps it lightly against his palm. A quiet gasp hits his ears, and with a sudden urgency, Lan Xichen steps into the sleeping area. 

 

Splayed out before him, exactly as Lan Xichen had left him hours ago, lies his husband in all but official notation in the Lan annals. The man is blindfolded, and his wrists and ankles are tied to the bedposts with his spare forehead ribbons. The one currently adorning Lan Xichen’s forehead is his replacement for the first, which now resides in Lotus Pier in a spot of honor. Despite being spares, there is always something mesmerizing about Jiang Cheng bound by his purity ribbons that causes his gut to twist and his cock to spring to life. 

 

In a low voice, so as to not startle Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen murmurs to him as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You look as though you have been very well-behaved, A-Cheng.”

 

Jiang Cheng turns his head in Lan Xichen’s direction. His sharp features appear completely relaxed, lips slightly parted, forehead smooth, and even his skin seems softer. Lan Xichen strokes a muscled thigh and feels the slight tremble of flesh under his fingers. 

 

“I brought something for you, A-Cheng. It was a gift for me, but I think I would like to see how it looks being used on you.” Lan Xichen unfurls the fan with a snap. “Would you like that?”

 

Jiang Cheng twitches at the sound of the fan, but stays calm. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, the erratic speed behind his movement the only thing that belies his state of mind. Lan Xichen ogles the man spread before him - hair tousled, body bare, skin damp, limbs taut, cock flushed and dripping onto his abdomen. The pace of his breathing increases and Lan Xichen presses his palm over Jiang Cheng’s heart. 

 

“You seem excited, A-Cheng. Now be a good boy and answer the question.” Lan Xichen rubs his hand over Jiang Cheng’s chest as he waits, lightly skimming toned planes and soft swells. 

 

Jiang Cheng whimpers. “Yes.”

 

“Yes what, A-Cheng?” Lan Xichen demands Jiang Cheng’s full attention and adherence to their rules. He wants nothing more than to lavish praise on the other man, knowing he is starved for it, but he also knows himself. He gets off on being obeyed by someone powerful, by manipulating the flow of pleasure, by having control over what happens in this element of their play. Although they both have full say in what goes on between them, Jiang Cheng places his trust in Lan Xichen to not abuse his position. 

 

“Yes. I would like that.” Jiang Cheng’s voice sounds wrecked, but he speaks with a stirring conviction unique to him. A thrum of excitement sings through Lan Xichen’s veins.

 

Lan Xichen closes the fan and lightly smacks Jiang Cheng’s abdomen, earning a jerk of his body and a gasp. “Yes, what?”

 

Jiang Cheng swallows. “Yes, Sect Leader Lan.”

 

Humming, Lan Xichen soothes over the place he had struck, his hand rubbing gentle circles over sweat-soaked skin. “A-Cheng, give me your number.”

 

“Three, A-Huan. I’m good.” Although it takes a bit for Jiang Cheng to rouse himself enough to answer, he is lucid and sure of himself with his answer, which assuages Lan Xichen's concern. It has taken them some time and a few rough experiences to reach this point of communication and understanding during this style of play, but now that they are here, Lan Xichen has faith in his husband to be aware and honest. 

 

Lan Xichen uses the closed fan to run a line from one of Jiang Cheng’s feet, slowly up his calf, over his knee, and along the exposed expanse of inner thigh. “Thank you, A-Cheng. You’re such a good boy for me, so well-behaved, so patient. You are so pretty like this, spread open and waiting for me. Do you like being called pretty, A-Cheng?”

 

“Yes, Sect Leader Lan,” murmurs Jiang Cheng, mouth falling open again, lips slack as he sinks back into his headspace. 

 

Lan Xichen ignores Jiang Cheng’s cock, as he has been doing since this morning when he first tied up his husband, including his noon-time visit which had been nothing more than prolonged teasing. This beautiful, strong man has been hovering on a knife’s edge of release for hours. The awareness of how he manipulates this situation is heady and fuels his confidence. At the same time, Lan Xichen would do anything for Jiang Cheng. If he asked right now to be unblindfolded, unbound, and for Lan Xichen to take him in his mouth and bring him to orgasm, he would do it, and hungrily swallow down every last drop of Jiang Cheng in the process. 

 

Continuing to trace the fan along every ridge of Jiang Cheng’s torso, Lan Xichen outlines the curves of his chest and the dips of his abdomen, grazing his collarbone and up the length of a tense arm, sweeping aside loose hair. He repeats his ministrations on the other side, before returning to the man's neglected erection. He teases around the base, dipping lower to run the fan along tight balls held close to Jiang Cheng’s body, expectant and ready for a long-delayed release.

 

Jerking his hips up, Jiang Cheng chases the fleeting sensation before remembering he hangs on Lan Xichen’s mercy. “Sect Leader Lan…”

 

Clicking his tongue, Lan Xichen sighs at the reflexive insubordination. “I thought we were past this level of training, A-Cheng. Do you still need to be taught how to behave?”

 

“No,” Jiang Cheng answers, chest heaving as he pants, mouth lolling open. A part of Lan Xichen yearns to tug his trousers off and mount Jiang Cheng right now, kissing the breath out of him and refilling him with his own. He could so easily release Jiang Cheng’s ankles and hoist up his legs, supporting their weakened state with his own sturdy thighs. He could curl his hands around a trim waist and sink into the snug, welcoming heat of his husband’s body. He could fuck Jiang Cheng and watch him come untouched, hear him cry out his name as he shakes, finally allowed to orgasm after a day of unfulfilled arousal. He could tug off the blindfold and wrist restraints, watching the haze in slate blue eyes slowly clear while Lan Xichen cradles him back to full awareness. 

 

Instead, Lan Xichen pursues their play further. “No, what?”

 

Jiang Cheng huffs, but bites back some retort about to spill from his mouth. A wave of fondness clenches Lan Xichen’s heart at this man he loves, so fierce and proud, but so willing to earn praise, even though he doesn’t have to do anything to get it from Lan Xichen, not truly, and they both know it. 

 

“No, Sect Leader Lan.” Jiang Cheng whispers, biting his bottom lip after he speaks. His cheeks are pink and his forehead gleams with perspiration, and his whole body quivers with exertion as he lays there, taut like a bowstring. 

 

“A-Cheng, your number,” asks Lan Xichen, leaning over to kiss Jiang Cheng’s cheek. He opens the fan and waves cool air towards Jiang Cheng’s face, who tilts his head, the soft breeze blowing the loose strands of hair around his face.

 

Jiang Cheng sighs. “Three, A-Huan. I’m truly alright, although…” Jiang Cheng turns his face away and Lan Xichen drops the fan. 

 

“Although what? A-Cheng, tell me.” Lan Xichen cups his husband’s cheek, guiding his face back towards him. He reaches up with his other hand and loosens the blindfold. Stormy eyes slam shut at the candlelight in the Hanshi, probably far too bright after being sightless for an entire day.

 

“Sect Leader Lan, please. Please, I’ve been so good. Please,” begs Jiang Cheng, before he clamps his jaw shut.

 

Lan Xichen strokes his thumb along a high cheekbone, pleased at the quiet moan that pulls out of Jiang Cheng. “Open your eyes for me, A-Cheng. I want to see you.”

 

Jiang Cheng flutters his eyes back open, shiny with need, slowly clearing, although he seems like he wishes to continue their play long enough for him to float away. Lan Xichen can give him that, he’d give him anything, and that thought does nothing except make his heart ache with love for Jiang Cheng. Although, it’s his groin that aches when he still hears Jiang Cheng formally address him, his own forgotten cock stiff between his legs, reminding him of his desire. “Yes, Sect Leader Lan.”

 

“You’re such a good boy, A-Cheng. So well-mannered, so honest, telling me what it is you like.” Lan Xichen coos at his husband, peppering his face with kisses along his cheeks, nose, chin, forehead. He rises from the bed and tugs his trousers down, slipping his legs out of them, and removing his undergarments. He shimmies out of his inner robes quickly, and then straddles Jiang Cheng’s hips. “You are so brave to voice your wants and your needs. You are so good, A-Cheng.”

 

Lan Xichen lowers his head, lightly licking under Jiang Cheng’s chin, down the slender column of his neck, and across his chest. He laves over erect nipples, nibbling at them with his teeth and then soothing them with the flat of his tongue. Drifting lower and shifting his body back, he traces every line of hard-earned muscle on Jiang Cheng’s abdomen, hands tightly gripping the other man’s hips. Jiang Cheng arches his back off the mattress, pushing his body up against Lan Xichen’s mouth, and Lan Xichen curves his hands to support him, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, holding him up and raised like an offering for worship. 

 

“Sect Leader...Lan,” gasps Jiang Cheng, his head thrown back, hands clenching and unclenching around nothing while they are bound against the bedposts. Lan Xichen glances down to see his husband’s toes curling in the same frantic motion. 

 

“A-Cheng, you are so good to me, you bring me such joy. You are such a good boy.” Lan Xichen heaps on words of praise, meaning every word but focused on sliding further along Jiang Cheng’s legs to get his mouth where he wants it to be. “You deserve to be pleasured, A-Cheng. You’re so pretty, so strong, so smart, so brave, and such a very good boy. Can I pleasure you with my mouth, A-Cheng?”

 

“Yes! Yes, Sect Leader Lan!” Breathless, Jiang Cheng writhes in Lan Xichen’s hands. He eagerly rolls his pelvis up to meet his mouth when Lan Xichen takes him in. 

 

Lan Xichen sucks Jiang Cheng’s cock into his mouth, gliding his lips from the root up to the head, slowly, reverently. He relaxes his throat and takes the throbbing member fully into his mouth. He holds Jiang Cheng up higher, enjoying the spasm of his body against his face while he devours him. He hums, his mouth vibrating along the dripping shaft, and a tremor wracks through Jiang Cheng while incoherent babble spills out of his mouth.

 

Pulling off to take a deep breath and close his mouth, Lan Xichen presses a kiss to the leaking tip, giving little kitten licks around the entire crown, focusing on the sensitive patch under the head. Jiang Cheng cries as his cock pulses. Lan Xichen glances up briefly to see glassy blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, tears coursing down his cheeks, while his powerful body moves of its own carnal accord. “Sect… Lan… I… Leader -ahhh- A-Huan!”

 

Lan Xichen stretches his lips around Jiang Cheng’s cock, coaxing his release with ripples of suction, like eating candy except this is far more enjoyable for both of them. With a stutter of his hips and a groan, Jiang Cheng comes hard, spurting his seed into Lan Xichen’s greedy mouth. He swallows it all down, easing his husband through every wave of his orgasm. Reluctantly, he draws his mouth away. He maneuvers himself off of his husband, moving around the bed to release all the forehead ribbons. He climbs back in once Jiang Cheng is freed, and lays beside him. 

 

As soon as Lan Xichen hits the mattress, Jiang Cheng flips to his side and curls into him, dragging his limbs in towards his body. His eyes are closed and his mouth agape, as Lan Xichen hugs him close, petting his hair and laying his lips against his forehead. He holds Jiang Cheng through his drop, murmuring hushed words of praise and encouragement to him as he waits for him to return. 

 

When slate blue eyes eventually crack open, Lan Xichen tightens his embrace. “Are you with me, A-Cheng?”

 

Jiang Cheng nods, head buried against Lan Xichen’s chest. “I’m here, A-Huan.”

 

“How do you feel?” Lan Xichen expects the click of Jiang Cheng’s tongue and he is not disappointed, although the cheeks against his skin grow warmer. “Can I get you anything?”

 

“I’m fine and just you,” mumbles Jiang Cheng, determined to keep his flushed face averted. His fingers curl blindly around loose tendrils of Lan Xichen’s hair. 

 

“We’ll lay here for awhile, but then you should drink, A-Cheng. And maybe I shall prepare you a bath. I will be right there with you, if you would like. Does that sound nice?” Lan Xichen combs through Jiang Cheng’s hair, obsessed with the wavy texture of it when it is not styled in its standard topknot. 

 

Jiang Cheng lifts his face, gazing up at Lan Xichen. His cheeks are rosy and he remains in his fetal pose, but his eyes sparkle playfully. “I’m not an invalid, Lan Huan, but if you insist on spoiling me for the remainder of the night, I might have to let you. Will you wash my hair?”

 

Glad his husband is fully clear-headed again, Lan Xichen laughs, dipping down to capture Jiang Cheng’s mouth in a chaste kiss. “Yes, you must let me pamper you now.”

 

“Perhaps if you wouldn’t truss me up like a chicken so often, you would feel less guilt.” Jiang Cheng smirks at Lan Xichen. 

 

The affection that builds in Lan Xichen’s chest nearly overwhelms him. “A-Cheng, you know I think you’re wonderful even when we are not playing, right? You know that I think all those things I say?”

 

Jiang Cheng watches him, a small hesitant smile pulling at his lips. “You really think I’m brave?”

 

“One of the bravest, A-Cheng. I truly admire you.” Lan Xichen pulls his husband in tighter, determined to smother Jiang Cheng with love. He will give affirmation of all Jiang Cheng’s best qualities, every day if he must, enough of his life has been spent hearing about the weak ones. Lan Xichen will remind Jiang Cheng how deserving he is of adoration every day, until he starts to believe it himself.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Xie Lian finally removes his hands from around Hua Cheng’s eyes, although he is in no rush to get down from his back. He likes the feel of his husband’s hands wrapping around his thighs to hold him in place. He is not a small man, short perhaps, but not petite by any definition. Yet, one of Hua Cheng’s hands in his true form can nearly span the girth of one of his thighs. That thought alone is enough to get Xie Lian’s heart racing. 

 

“Ge ge, why are we in Black Water’s Demon Lair?” Hua Cheng turns his head and peers back at Xie Lian out of the corner of his eye.

 

“It’s a beach! It’s nice to be by the water and, well, ah.” Xie Lian stops talking and slides off Hua Cheng’s back, landing easily on his feet.

 

Hua Cheng laughs, incredulous. “Ge ge. This is a beach on the South Sea.”

 

“We were rather rushed last time and there were things…” Xie Lian feels his cheeks heat and is grateful for the cover of twilight.

 

“What things?” Hua Cheng gazes at him, amused, however there’s another emotion burning in his eye that Xie Lian is quite familiar with, one he rather enjoys seeing smolder like black glitter. “Pray Ge ge tells this husband before he loses his mind with curiosity.”

 

“San Lang!” Xie Lian bats at his arm, and steps closer to him. He tucks himself underneath his husband’s chin, folding himself against his expansive chest effortlessly. Long arms automatically wrap around him, holding him close, making him feel small and secure. Hua Cheng tips his head down and presses a kiss to Xie Lian’s crown. 

 

“Ge ge, what things?” Hua Cheng rests his chin on top of Xie Lian’s head as though he were put here just to provide such a service. Xie Lian likes it. It reminds him of the time they had discussed more unusual things each of them wanted to try, and Hua Cheng had suggested Xie Lian be his footstool for the evening - naked and immobile, only allowed to move to a new position when instructed. It had been vaguely humiliating but they had both quite enjoyed the experience. Xie Lian had trusted his husband then, both in the request and the execution, and he should trust him now, with this. After all, this is far simpler than having Hua Cheng be used as a piece of furniture.

 

I would climb him like a ladder if he let me. Xie Lian shelves that errant though, and gets back to the matter at hand, namely, this beach. 

 

“San Lang,” states Xie Lian, with a little more confidence than he actually feels. “I would like to sail in a coffin with you again.”



“Ge ge, why do you want to go back in a coffin?” Hua Cheng’s eye grows impossibly darker as it gleams at Xie Lian, a slight smile tugging up a sharp mouth. Xie Lian glances at the small fang that peeks out past his upper lip when it’s curled back in a pleased expression. 

 

Xie Lian’s cheeks grow even hotter, but he peers up at Hua Cheng with conviction. “I want to sail on the South Sea with my San Lang. We cannot sink because of you, but this time there’s no rush.”

 

Hua Cheng rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, we still aren’t supposed to be here. This isn’t under my jurisdiction.”

 

Waving his concerns off, Xie Lian laughs. This had been the easiest part of this task. Convincing his husband to travel trusting nothing except Xie Lian to guide him to a destination had felt far trickier. “I took care of that!”

 

Eye widening in surprise, Hua Cheng grips his upper arms. “How did you take care of it?”

 

“I made a deal with He Xuan.” Xie Lian shrugs and maneuvers out of Hua Cheng’s grasp. 

 

“Ge ge,” hisses Hua Cheng, clearly concerned, but Xie Lian is having none of it.

 

“I promised him that Blood Rain would wave a small portion of his debt if he were to allow us safe passage in the South Sea for this evening.” Xie Lian beams up at Hua Cheng, whose mouth is working even though no sound is coming out. 

 

Really, San Lang.  

 

“But Ge ge,” mumbles Hua Cheng, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

 

“But nothing,” soothes Xie Lian stubbornly. “Do you still want to talk about the coffin?”

 

With one last pout, Hua Cheng peeks at him, interest already renewed. “Go on.”

 

“There’s one right over there, I made sure He Xuan procured one for our use. We won’t be bothered at all tonight, and the water will be somewhat calm with only a little unexpected turbulence now and then.” Xie Lian tugs Hua Cheng’s arms free and laced their fingers together. “Come on, I want to see how well you fit inside this time, now that you aren’t trying to hide your reactions to rubbing against me.”

 

“Ge ge,” gasps Hua Cheng, although the smirk is back on his face. Xie Lian rises to his tiptoes and kisses his husband’s chin. 

 

Xie Lian chuckles and tugs Hua Cheng along the shore. “It’s not like I was unaffected, I think you just panicked more.”

 

“Oh really?” Hua Cheng’s long strides cover the distance to the coffin, until he is the one gently pulling Xie Lian along. They stop running when the coffin looms before them, sturdy and dark. “Alright, Ge ge, climb in and hold the lid ajar. I’ll push it into the water and then join you inside, we’ll get the lid on somehow.”

 

Xie Lian stands next to the coffin snd glances back at Hua Cheng. He clearly takes that as a cue for assistance, because before Xie Lian knows what’s happening, large hands have curved around his waist and hoisted him up and over the edge of the box. He lays down and shifts the cover over, leaving a gap for his husband. With a shove, Hua Cheng glides the coffin into the South Sea, and then leaps in, squeezing himself through the opening. Together, they close the lid completely and are plunged into darkness.

 

“Ge ge, am I crushing you?” Hua Cheng asks, voice a low rumble right beside Xie Lian’s ear. 

 

Xie Lian maneuvers himself more squarely underneath his husband’s looming presence, shamelessly rolling his hips up. He spreads his thighs as wide as he can in the confines of the box, and makes room for Hua Cheng between his legs. When they make contact, Xie Lian feels the hardness against his thigh, just like the first time they had found themselves like this, including Hua Cheng’s muffled groan. Only now, Xie Lian can revel in it, encourage it, beg for more. 

 

“San Lang, you’re so big,” murmurs Xie Lian. “You feel huge.”

 

Hua Cheng audibly swallows, shifting his body to rut against Xie Lian’s leg, his forearms braced on either side of his head. Xie Lian is caged in and vulnerable and he loves it. A thrill shivers through his body at how dainty he feels beneath his husband, even though they are equally matched in strength. Xie Lian might even be stronger, and yet he lives for Hua Cheng draping over him like a handsome, lanky blanket. “Am I hurting you, Ge ge?” 

 

“No! It’s good, you’re always so good.” Xie Lian rocks up into him, fingers blindly scrabbling for Hua Cheng’s belt and the waistband of his trousers. Losing patience, he dips his fingers underneath loose fabric to wrap around Hua Cheng’s cock, hot and damp and practically throbbing in his palm. 

 

Hua Cheng tries to shimmy out of his trousers in the cramped space, his head knocking into the lid. He chuckles, the sound a low enticing rumble next to Xie Lian’s ear when he tips his head back down. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask you to take your hand off of me, but can Ge ge help get these off first?” 

 

Quickly and awkwardly, they divest themselves of trousers and undergarments, the sense of urgency rising the longer they fumble with clothing. Xie Lian feels the sweat drip down the back of his neck and his forehead, the small of his back slick and damp underneath his bunched robes. He throws his arms around Hua Cheng’s elegant neck, and locks his legs around Hua Cheng’s waist, wedging his lower legs between the lid and his husband. 

 

“What kind of lubricant does Ge ge wish for this evening?” Hua Cheng gazes down at him intently, running his long, nimble tongue along his teeth as he waits for an answer.

 

Xie Lian considers the options, Hua Cheng able to create almost any sensation for him with his saliva alone. He had highly enjoyed the one that was sweet and thick like nectar, coating his insides and altering its temperature under Hua Cheng’s instruction while they fucked. Then again, he has been driven wild by every lube Hua Cheng has crafted specifically for them. “Surprise me. I like anything you give me, San Lang.”

 

“Alright, Ge ge.” Spitting generously, Hua Cheng drips a long string of drool into his hand. It pools, and even though Xie Lian can hardly see it, it seems like a lot. Lowering his hand, Hua Cheng begins to circle around Xie Lian’s entrance. Xie Lian spasms into the touch, silently encouraging more. A lengthy, agile finger gently works the lube into him. At first, it’s foamy like soap, but then the bubbles feel like they are popping inside of him, stimulating his inner walls.

 

“Ohhh,” moans Xie Lian, rocking up, pushing himself further down Hua Cheng’s finger until it is buried down to the knuckle. Gripping Hua Cheng more tightly with his legs, Xie Lian fucks himself, increased friction causing more of the delicious fizz in his channel, as the bubbles pop inside of him. “More, San Lang. Please.”

 

Before Xie Lian is even done begging, Hua Cheng has a second sticky finger plunging into him. He twists his fingers to liberally spread the lube, and then thrusts them in and out of Xie Lian’s body, stretching and loosening him. “How does it feel?”

 

“It’s so good….San Lang, it’s so good! More… -ahhh- pl...please,” mumbles Xie Lian, mind already swimming through the pleasure fog. His body instinctively clamps down on whatever Hua Cheng puts inside of him, fucking himself on only two fingers, chasing the intoxication from the lube. He tilts his head up, frantically nipping at Hua Cheng’s chin and along his neck, at whatever he can reach along is husband’s lanky body. 

 

Hua Cheng shifts above him, maneuvering his lean torso and rangy limbs while he draws out his fingers. Xie Lian whimpers at the loss, even feeling a few tears gather in his eyes. His hole flutters, desperate to be filled again, clenching around nothing even while the lube crackles like fireworks along his sensitive channel. Lightning races up his spine and every nerve ending inside of him is alive and expectant for more. 

 

“Is Ge ge ready?” Hua Cheng arches his spine and folds his body the best he can, as he presses their foreheads together and lines up his cock. At Xie Lian’s hum of approval, he buries the full length of his thick member with one swift thrust. 

 

Xie Lian cries out, and clenches his thighs around Hua Cheng’s waist. His pelvis rolls forward, trying to draw Hua Cheng even further inside of his body. “San Lang! More!”

 

The bubbles coating Xie Lian’s sensitive inner walls expand and pop and tingle excitedly with every thrust. Hua Cheng snaps his hips, fucking Xie Lian fast and hard. 

 

“Ge ge,” groans Hua Cheng, capturing Xie Lian’s mouth in a searing kiss. The coffin, which had been gently swaying in the water, now rocks with the force of their movements. The quiet, soothing night sounds of the South Sea have turned into the lewd squelching and loud slapping of their skin coming together. 

 

Hua Cheng tucks an arm under Xie Lian’s slim waist and lifts him effortlessly, pulling their bodies flush together where they join. He slams into Xie Lian with both a vigor and a stamina that Xie Lian craves in his most depraved dreams, as he is ruthlessly speared by his husband. His hole is stretched wide by the fat head of Hua Cheng’s cock, while his depths are plundered by its immense length. The friction increases with every thrust. The tingling of the lube boils the blood in Xie Lian’s veins as it thrums through him. He feels as though he might be consumed from the inside out, and there is no better way he wants to go. Perhaps this is how ascension should feel.

 

Throwing his head back, Xie Lian whines, using the carnal rhythm of his body to meet every one of Hua Cheng’s thrusts. He clings to his husband, sweat causing his limbs to slide, but he only holds on more fiercely. He is safe, he is protected, he is sheltered by Hua Cheng above him. His orgasm dances along the edges of his consciousness, his thighs beginning to tremble and his groin growing heavy. The flickering curl of heat fans brighter and hotter, his vision darkening impossibly further within the confines of the coffin. Xie Lian is so wet he feels slick liquid running down his ass and along his back, soaking into his robes, as he is held effortlessly in the air. 

 

The atmosphere is taut and thick around them as they fuck, hovering on the brink of release together, waves lapping eagerly at the sides of the coffin. Hua Cheng pushes into him, brushing damp hair off his forehead and replacing it with open-mouthed, sloppy kisses. He licks the moisture off Xie Lian’s skin, his hips stuttering while his arm tightens around Xie Lian’s lower back to hold him close. 

 

“Ge ge… Ge ge, come with me,” purrs Hua Cheng, sounding nearly breathless even though he requires no air. 

 

Xie Lian smiles, splaying his fingers along his husband’s neck, his body chasing pleasure, chasing Hua Cheng. The tingling in his channel has spread through his body, every nerve alight with frantic desire and explosive tension, ready to be ignited. “I’m here, San Lang. I’m -ahh ahhhh- San Lang, I’m -ahhhh-,” gasps Xie Lian, as his orgasm scorches through his body like wildfire. 

 

Hua Cheng drives into Xie Lian with an erratic rhythm, fucking them both through their release. His insides are flooded with warmth, the bubbles from the lube all popping at once along his walls. Xie Lian milks Hua Cheng through it, coaxing out every last drop of come from his husband’s cock, wanting it all inside of him. The lips against his temple curve into a smirk.

 

“Ge ge is so beautiful and so needy,” whispers Hua Cheng, tone soft but playful. “Does Ge ge wish to keep all this husband’s essence inside of him?”

 

Xie Lian’s cheeks flush, but he still nods. He clenches around Hua Cheng’s slowly softening shaft, using it as a plug. “Please, San Lang.”

 

“Ah, then wait, Ge ge.” Hua Cheng closes his eye, spits on his fingers, and slips his hand down to where they are still joined together. He gradually works the tip of one finger in next to his cock, using its length to slide around his entire girth. Xie Lian groans at the stretch. “This husband is going to pull out now and plug Ge ge up, not a drop will be wasted.”

 

Xie Lian feels the aching loss as Hua Cheng drags his cock out of his body, except there is an immediate, tingling relief which cools his tender rim. He lowers his legs and lets go of his husband’s neck to prod at his own hole. There is a smooth gel blocking the entrance. He wiggles a bit, pleased at the full feeling inside of him, Hua Cheng’s seed still comfortingly warm like Hua Cheng himself.

 

“This feels nice,” laughs Xie Lian, still exploring the gel butt plug with his curious fingers. “San Lan is quite creative. It’s only one of the many, many reasons that I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Ge ge.” Hua Cheng kisses Xie Lian, lightly at first, then flicking his tongue along the seam of his lips. “Perhaps more of Black Water’s debt should be forgiven for other nights like this one.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter what anyone says, San Lang is definitely the most benevolent,” states Xie Lian. He parts his lips and allows Hua Cheng to slide his tongue inside. They are in no hurry and the waters are calm. Tonight still has plenty of time for them to play.

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

Jiang Cheng floats as he falls, the air cushioning him on his descent. He is warm and safe, cradled close and protected. It all still feels so good, he's still so high, like a leaf dancing on the breeze. 

 

If only he could exist forever, drifting through his mind, his body somewhere far away from this blissful experience. Maybe this time, Jiang Cheng will stay suspended in this manner, semi-conscious and unaware of the world around him. All his demons, the ugly, twisted regrets and failures, have been coaxed out of him - they flowed out of his pores, they streamed out of his eyes, they spurted out of his cock. They are never here in this place, the merciful fog that wraps around him like a blanket, a living, breathing comfort that holds him all the way to the bottom. 

 

The first frown forms on Jiang Cheng's face as he moves his wrist and the chafe burns, the second when he stretches a leg and it cramps. With a quiet whine, he begins to see glowing light behind his eyelids and struggles to open them. He jerks his head to the side, a vain attempt to avoid the crashing return back to reality. He yearns to stay, just like this, his body a nonexistent entity, nothing that will try and restrain him. He is free here - this is still real, this is still real, this is still-

 

"Jiang Cheng, are you coming back?" Jin Guangyao's voice drips into his ears like honey, sweet and tempting. 

 

Jiang Cheng shakes his head, burrowing back into whatever solid presence his head is cushioned against. He's so warm, he's so comfortable, and he's being held. He becomes aware of the arms around his body, and he snuggles into them. The slow-burning ache in his chest refuses to flare into something more, instead it is merely embers, glowing deeply within him. He could fan them into something bigger, something dangerous, but he feels distant from the fire right now, and it's too peaceful to want to scorch himself on the flames. 

 

A hand smoothes Jiang Cheng's hair, and the ground below him doesn't loom like a threat. Perhaps, he will touch bottom and return to life free from pain, free from regret. He senses them now, the demons, lingering on the periphery, greedy fingers outstretched and reaching for him. They are what lurks in the filth beneath him, trying to snatch him back and put him where he belongs - alone, mediocre, filled with so much-

 

"Jiang Cheng, open your eyes," croons Jin Guangyao, his fingers still deftly combing through his hair. 

 

The voice is so melodic, and so familiar, and it tempts Jiang Cheng to crack open his eyes. 

 

Jin Guangyao.  

 

With a rush of clarity, Jiang Cheng intimately knows the body before him, as Jin Guangyao comes to him in flashes of sense memory - embracing him, soothing him, kissing the crown of his head. He can hear the slide of silk against his skin, the slap of a palm against the flesh of his ass. Phantom fingers pinch his chest, pull his hair, stretch him open, plunge inside of him. The slick glide of the cock buried inside of his body exposes him, pleasures him, heals him, from the spreading of his legs to the truth of his moans. He feels the cool wood of the floor underneath his hands and knees, the searing strain on his taut shoulders and calves, held in position for this man to drink his fill. Jiang Cheng draws back, just enough to tilt his head up and see Jin Guangyao, who smiles indulgently at him. 

 

"Welcome back, Jiang Cheng." Jin Guangyao sounds pleasant as he always does, but there's a fondness in his tone that Jiang Cheng believes is reserved for him. 

 

"Mm," hums Jiang Cheng, tongue clumsy in his dry mouth, lips unwilling to move. 

 

Jin Guangyao smiles at him, and it looks genuine enough, but Jiang Cheng isn't quite ready to parse through the man's many expressions. He closes his eyes again, longing to slip away once more, back to a place where the battle does not wage within his brittle walls. "Now, now, Jiang Cheng. I know you're back with me. You should take a sip of water." 

 

Jiang Cheng sighs and glances up at him. He nuzzles against the cool skin of Jin Guangyao's chest, curling his fingers into a loose fist held against his own. "Mm. I'd like that."

 

"I'll help you sit up, but you can still rest. Here, let me move you." Jin Guangyao maneuvers them both so they are propped up in his gilded bed. Jiang Cheng tips back his head to rest along Jin Guangyao's shoulder. He isn't even aware his eyes slipped closed until he feels the rim of a glass push against his mouth. Dutifully, he parts his lips and swallows a few sips of water. 

 

Jiang Cheng hears the clink of the glass hit the bedside table, and then the fingers are back in his loose hair, running through the long strands, carefully working out tangles. Graceful fingers massage his scalp, easing tension before it has a chance to return. Jiang Cheng's head lolls on Jin Guangyao's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He makes a noise that sounds like a purr, and the other man laughs as though delighted. 

 

"Are you a content kitten?" Jin Guangyao asks, gently, as though Jiang Cheng is made of the finest porcelain. He recalls a time he had woken up alone in his own quarters, his play partner called back to Lanling while he drifted away unaware. It had taken days before he had felt well enough to resume his duties as sect leader - body flush with fever, skin tender to the touch, waves of nausea and agony as his body fought to create its own pleasure equilibrium. It wasn't the only time he had shattered, but he had been silly enough to think Jin Guangyao would never let it happen. He is much more diligent now. 

 

"Mm, I feel good." Jiang Cheng answers honestly, openly. 

 

Jin Guangyao's chest rumbles with approval, the arm curled protectively around Jiang Cheng's waist pulling him in closer. "I like to see you happy. I'm glad you feel better than when you came here earlier."

 

All Jiang Cheng can parse through in his hazy memory is pain and despair and a grip on his sanity so rigid and relentless that he had come to Lanling without a second thought. There is only one person who can ease his mind when he gets like that, and he sits behind Jiang Cheng now. He strikes and binds and fucks the misery out of him until it is nothing more than wisps of smoke that he couldn't hold onto even if he tried. For that and his discretion, Jiang Cheng is grateful. 

 

"And I have you to thank, Jin Guangyao." Jiang Cheng murmurs, before too much of his mind returns to full lucidity and pride gags his honest gratitude.

 

Jiang Cheng thinks he must be imagining the tension that pulls the body behind him taut, the hand stilling in his hair. The breath that ghosts along the bare skin of his neck feels too shallow, too fast. He starts to turn, concerned, but he is held firmly in place. The fingers leave his head to grasp his wrist instead. Jin Guangyao runs his thumb along the slight rope burn, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the bruised skin. 

 

"I will heal fine, my cultivation will see to that," insists Jiang Cheng, although he preens at the tender touch. 

 

Jin Guangyao chuckles, but this time it sounds thin, even to Jiang Cheng. "Yes, of course. You don't need to thank me, I didn't do anything." 

 

Scoffing Jiang Cheng shifts backwards, pressing the length of his back along Jin Guangyao's torso. The slide of their skin is cool relief compared to the damp heat between them earlier, and it maintains Jiang Cheng's calm, his endless concerns held easily at bay by Jin Guangyao's attention. "I disagree, but I suppose that's allowed."

 

"I did enough," argues Jin Guangyao, a slight crack in his voice. "I did enough."

 

 


 

 

Chapter Text

 

 


 

 

“Ahhhhh!”

 

Wei Wuxian’s loud cry shatters the silence in the room. He rolls his hips back into the powerful body behind him, craving the hunter deeper inside of his body. The firm hold on his icy skin sears him like a brand. He glances down to see if his flesh smolders at the touch, forgetting his sight has been impeded. A whine escapes his lips, he craves a glimpse of his savior. If he still had a heartbeat, it would be pounding in his chest.

 

“Do not look.” The man repeats his mantra, his deep voice smooth like velvet, like the very blood that courses through his veins, providing succulent food that has kept Wei Wuxian from starving for now, surely a temporary respite.

 

Wei Wuxian still is not exactly sure how being surrounded by honorable, virtuous vampire hunters, all clad in white like purity personified, had ended up with him dragged away to a private room somewhere, hidden far from prying eyes and vicious punishment. He hadn’t eaten in days and it made him sloppy - easy to chase, easy to catch.

 

A blindfold had slipped over Wei Wuxian’s sensitive eyes nearly immediately, before he even got a peek at which hunter decided to go rogue. Someone who clearly yearned to make Wei Wuxian’s death personal and painful. 

 

“Please,” begs Wei Wuxian, dropping his head to his chest, gasping for air that he does not need. His normally tousled hair is certainly a disaster at this treatment. Loose tendrils brush against his forehead, his neck, his cheeks, flying about his head with every thrust. “I want to see you - ah ahh! - you saved me even, when... your job is to do anything but save… save me. Why would you-”

 

“Enough.” One hot hand releases Wei Wuxian’s hip and glides over his bare back, flames licking against his skin. Perhaps this touch alone will be enough to reignite something within him, something that had gone missing far before he was turned. It’s hard to even remember the human days - family, food, sunshine in his eyes and in his laughter. Lately, Wei Wuxian’s days are slept away, and the nights are filled with deafening silence and daunting isolation. 

 

The hand of the hunter brushes against his neck and follows the line of his jaw, fingers toying with the plump bottom lip he clenches between sharp teeth. The long, graceful fingers coax the flesh free, and smooth over skin still brittle and cracked from dehydration. Although loathe to admit it, Wei Wuxian is starving, probably even dying. He doesn’t even know how vampires cease to exist, but surely he’s close to the end. 

 

This hunter toys with him, an extended game of cat and mouse, except Wei Wuxian is the prey. This man feeds him and fucks him, all to kill him in the end, performing his righteous duty. Wei Wuxian waits for it all to come crashing down. 

 

“Please.” Wei Wuxian whispers, lulled by the faint scent of iron that still permeates the room, the finger teasing at his mouth. The blood pulsing within the hunter tantalizes with its richness. 

 

The mesmerizing voice rumbles behind Wei Wuxian, warm lips brushing the sensitive skin under his ear. “Take what you need.” 

 

“What if I don’t need it, what if I just want to taste you again. What if I said you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever had inside my body, and all I want is more. What then?” Wei Wuxian rises up, lifting his hands from the mattress. The hunter’s muscular arm securely wraps around his waist, holding his back flush against a broad, sweat-soaked chest. He grasps the man’s trembling wrist, holding the elegant fingers steady at his mouth. 

 

If the hunter pulls away, Wei Wuxian will let him go. He is not a monster, despite what they call him, despite that a monster is what he calls himself.

 

“Yours.” The finger plunges into his mouth, tracing along the pinpoint tips of his fangs, the pad of calloused skin pushing up, up, up-

 

“Ahhhh!” A hard thrust shakes his core as the warm trickle of blood hits his tongue, assaulting Wei Wuxian’s already heightened senses. He laps at the finger, soothing over the puncture. “Are you crazy? You’re supposed to - ahhh - hate me, why do you keep offering yourself to me? Pretty soon, I’ll get addicted to you and… and you’ll get addicted to me and then you’ll never be able to leave, I won’t let you. I’ll follow you - ahhh! - and then…”

 

The hunter’s thick cock relentlessly fucks into Wei Wuxian and cuts off his feeble warning. The resounding slap of flesh against his body, the slick glide against his inner walls, the blood thrumming just under human skin - it all scrambles Wei Wuxian’s mind, causing him to forget that he can’t want this, he shouldn’t be gifted anything this exquisite, surely not without a cost. 

 

The man breathes, an entire moment captured in his sigh. He tightens his arm against Wei Wuxian’s abdomen, holding him impossibly snug. “You can follow me, I can follow you.”

 

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure which base craving pulses stronger throughout him right now, both hunger and desire swirling equally in his gut, a maelstrom of sensation. He grips the hunter’s wrist tighter. His fingers feel so cold compared to the warmth and vitality of a human body. He tugs the finger out of his mouth, desperate to do the right thing. He runs it along the seam of his lips, drool spilling out of the corners of his mouth as he savors the wet slide, the tingle of living energy caressing his skin. 

 

“But we aren’t… supposed to follow each other,” argues Wei Wuxian. He rubs his cheek along the hunter’s finger, pretending this is something more than whatever this is between them. “Unless I’m going to turn you or you’re going to eviscerate me - ahhh! You’re so rough with me! Maybe this is how you’ll destroy me, a poor, delicate vampire fucked to nonexistence by a ruthless vampire hunter.”

 

“Mn.” Like the offered blood, this voice drips into him, consuming him from the inside, but instead of hurting him, it fuels his strength. Every drive of the hunter’s throbbing shaft into his body fans the glowing embers in his core. He loves it, he loves it, he loves-

 

Wei Wuxian licks down the hunter’s finger, light-headed from the overwhelming smell and need to possess, although he would never turn someone. He can’t, and he couldn’t live with himself if he had ever done so. Other vampires say his stubborn refusal makes him weak, but he believes it is his greatest asset, even when he cannot find any animals to suck dry, leaving himself malnourished and nearly comatose in the streets. Hated by humans, mocked by vampires - Wei Wuxian exists alone.

 

With a hum, Wei Wuxian holds his savior’s wrist, turning it, mesmerized by the pulse of life just underneath the thin skin. He closes his eyes even though he cannot see the man through the blindfold, and inhales, the addicting scent almost enough to bring him to orgasm. He whimpers, it’s all so close - one more thrust of warm flesh, one last bite into living skin, it wouldn’t take more than either to send him careening over the edge into a fleeting haze of pleasure. 

 

Licking at the hunter’s intoxicating flesh, practically tasting the other’s vibrant heartbeat with his tongue, Wei Wuxian reluctantly pulls the hand away. He drops it, as he wrenches his head to the other side. He focuses on the feel of his aching cock as it rhythmically hits his abdomen, leaving behind sticky smears of precome. His belly and soul feel sated, even though he didn’t feed nearly enough before the hunter had begun to caress his skin and kiss his throat and sink his fingers inside of Wei Wuxian’s shaking body. With a moan, he is nearly overwhelmed at the heady rush of being held and touched and fucked.

 

“Take it.” Deft fingers gently turn his head and tilt his chin. The wrist is insistent at his lips, rubbing against his mouth. 

 

“I don’t want to bond you to me, I don’t know how much more I can take before you won’t want to leave me, suffering if we’re apart. I’m so hungry… I don’t know how much control I have. I’m - ahhh I’m going to, ahhh!” Wei Wuxian fists his hands against his spread thighs, he’s so close. The heat boils within him, heating his frigid skin, as the man behind him consumes what’s left of his brittle shell.

 

“For you.” At the silken command, Wei Wuxian crumbles.

 

As the pressure in his groin builds, a snake writhing and coiled to attack, Wei Wuxian laps at the sweat-dampened skin presented to him. Reverently, he clasps his savior’s arm, his tongue eagerly lapping at salty skin in anticipation. He opens his mouth further, spreading his ravenous lips and extending his sharp fangs. He slides over the wrist slowly as he prepares to feast.

 

The hunter is relentless as he fucks into Wei Wuxian - filling him, overwhelming him, making him lose his dwindling sanity. His balls tighten and pulse, clenched tightly against his body. He is wracked with waves of pleasure, tremors shuddering through him as his cock spurts thick come, splashing onto his skin and the mattress below.

 

With an unrestrained moan, Wei Wuxian bites down, sinking his teeth into the soft barrier of human skin. He seals the wound with his lips, sucking and gulping as he is lifted into another high. In his ecstasy, he barely registers being gently guided down to the bed, cradled from behind as he drinks, greedily swallowing every drop. The warmth of the blood fills him, spreading its essence throughout him and reigniting life in parts of him long-dead.

 

Nestling into the body behind him, Wei Wuxian finally wrenches himself away with a gasp. He wishes the blindfold were off so he could watch the skin heal. He licks over the puncture wound to speed its closure along, not wanting to harm his savior, just barely finished before the hunter tugs himself free from the vampire’s grasp. 

 

Wei Wuxian barely has time to focus on his disappointment, when the feeling is cut short by the loosening of the soft knot at the back of his head. The blindfold slips off his eyes and he blinks, the light not nearly as blinding as he expected. His sight seems different. A glimmer of sense memory tickles at the corners of his mind, except he cannot quite reach out to seize it. This is hauntingly familiar, but he isn’t sure how. 

 

“Wei Ying.” 

 

Wei Wuxian’s gut clenches and twists at the murmured address. No one has called him by that name since he was turned years ago. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wei Wuxian swivels his head to peer over his shoulder. When he stares into golden eyes, which gaze at him with nothing but affectionate wonder, a warm, pulsing sensation vibrates within him. 

 

It feels like coming home, except to no home he’s ever known before. 

 

“Lan Zhan?”

 

Wei Wuxian’s heart stutters back to life.