Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like that. Tonight was supposed to be explosive and passionate and maybe just this side of rough. Ayunga was too tense, too stressed, too caught-up in his restless need to constantly move and do something. He got to Shanghai and went straight to Yunlong’s place, one simple plan in mind.
He just wanted to unwind, let Yunlong fuck him into the next week and not think about anything.
But Yunlong had other plans.
It’s passionate all right, just the different kind of it. It’s building up in Ayunga’s bones, it presses against his solar plexus, it overfills his lungs and doesn’t let him breathe at all. It’s skin against skin, palms against palms, it’s Yunlong filling up every little cavity around him, the intensity of his gaze, the heaviness of his words.
He takes him, takes him slow and tender, hands curled around his wrists, lips hot against his ear.
Ayunga moans and moves to struggle against his grip, but he has no strength, no purchase, no nothing. Yunlong's cock in him pins him down with every thrust, slow and deliberate, just the right angle to make his head spin, and he can barely breathe around it.
Too slow, too explicit, too tender.
“Too much... this is not... what I had in mind,” Ayunga whispers. “Da-Long, I... ah...”
Yunlong kisses every inch of his face, nips at his jawline, traces his jerking Adam’s apple with his lips and nose.
He takes him apart, destroys every layer of protection he has against the world, until there is nothing left there.
“I know,” Yunlong says. “Don’t like it?”
Ayunga squeezes his hands lightly, shudders with another thrust. “Does it look like I don’t? Ah... like that...”
Yunlong bites at his shoulder lightly, thrusts hips with just enough force to make Ayunga moan again, a smile curling his lips prettily.
“Ga-Zi just wanted to fuck, is that right?”
“Shut up,” Ayunga mutters breathily. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
“Make me,” Yunlong smiles.
Despite his words, his kisses are soft and he is still moving so slow, it’s driving Ayunga mad.
“I… will!” Ayunga promises, but it comes breathy and soft in all the wrong places. “Will fuck you to tears!”
“You keep promising that,” Yunlong purrs, his expression so smug, Ayunga wants to hit him.
He tries to get a hand free, but Yunlong only presses him firmer into the bed and resumes caressing his neck and shoulders with his lips, then muffles his weak protests with another kiss.
He abuses his lips until there is no oxygen left in their lungs, and Ayunga’s face feels hot.
“Do you know how much I love you?” Yunlong’s voice is soft, but every word imprints in Ayunga’s mind with stark clarity.
His eyes shine brighter than the stars above the prairies at night, so full of emotion, Ayunga swallows heavily, resisting the urge to cover up.
“I know,” he says, lets his eyes drop close, lets the tide take him. “I know.”
Yunlong whispers words of love, nuzzles against the side of his face, skin sticky with sweat, and his lips are scalding and wet and soft.
“Da-Long,” Ayunga calls, barely able to hold it. His voice comes a whisper, a breathless tiny thing that he pushes out with the remnants of his strength. “Da-Long, faster.”
It’s too hot, he feels stuck to the bed, melted into a puddle, worked into a boneless mess. His legs are spread wide, his hips are aching. He calls again, close to tears.
“No,” Yunlong says, breathes against his neck, and it falls like a sticky candy. “No. Like that.”
Ayunga strains his neck to get away, but there is nowhere to go. He can barely move, pinned down so thoroughly. Usually, a grip like that is nothing, he could twist out of it, could simply push Yunlong off, but tonight is different.
Tonight, love spills all over him, pours from Yunlong’s eyes, sticks to his skin. It’s tempestuous like the waves of a raging sea, it’s grounding like the silence of a still prairie.
It’s almost unreal, the way the world seems to rock around them, with them.
It’s the realest thing Ayunga has ever known.
The room is filled with the sounds they make, stark and clear, the wet squelch of a cock moving in and out of his hole, the heavy breathing that rocks every nerve in his body.
Yunlong finds his lips again, and Ayunga moans into the kiss, pained and unrestricted. He sucks on his tongue and makes little whining sounds, asking, begging for more. His own cock is leaking pre-come all over his stomach, painfully hard.
But Yunlong is cruel.
He kisses him as though he wants to eat him whole and take his sweet time doing so, takes his mouth with the same deliberation he takes the rest of him. His hands shift higher, so their palms are against each other’s, fingers interlaced.
Ayunga is so exposed, his eyes sting. He is like a clam pulled open, all the soft insides twitching under the touch. Every thrust leaves him short for breath, the clarity of it explicit, the drag of skin as Yunlong pulls back, almost all the way out, before pushing back in, so deep, Ayunga thinks he can feel it in his stomach.
Yunlong holds him, but he might as well be reaching into his very chest for his very heart. It beats heavily like a ceremonial drum and belongs to him fully, irrevocably.
He takes and takes and takes until Ayunga has nothing left to give, until he is a mess filled with sugar sweet words, head blissfully empty, and all that’s left is Yunlong’s body above his, their hands joined together, their souls interweaved.
He whispers words of love, promises of eternity, praises for silly little details. Ayunga’s nose feels sour, but he catches every word hungrily, greedily.
They don’t talk about love. Not really. There never were any grand revelations between them, they simply fitted into each other’s lives seamlessly, naturally. Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s skin is one thing.
Promising forever is something else entirely.
They don’t talk about love, they simply love each other.
But love is never simple.
Love me, Ayunga thinks, love me forever, have me forever, you, you, it’s always been you.
Yunlong promises him all of it.
Promises him everything.
It’s so intimate, Ayunga almost can’t take it.
When Yunlong finally picks up pace and releases one of his hands to pump Ayunga’s cock, Ayunga immediately hooks an arm around his neck and moans so obscenely, the cheapest whore would redden.
“Ah—Like that, like that… Da—”
Yunlong twists his wrist skilfully, the rhythm matching with his thrusts, face buried in Ayunga’s shoulder. He bites just hard enough for it to sting, licks it, and then bites down again, harder this time, enough for it to leave a mark. Ayunga cries out, shaking, overwhelmed.
Yunlong pounds into him, the slap of his hips ringing through Ayunga’s otherwise empty mind, and all Ayunga can do is hold onto him and arch into it, legs swaying in the air. He moans with each thrust, moans loudly and carelessly, unable to at all register anything Yunlong is pouring over him like a fountain of affection.
He knows Yunlong loves him, loves him so thoroughly his heart feels bruised with it, overwhelmed, overflown, hugged so tightly it barely dares to beat.
He doesn’t give a damn, it doesn’t matter, nothing does.
Only Yunlong and him and this.
He doesn’t even notice that Yunlong is about to come, so caught up in chasing his own release in his hands. Yunlong’s thrusts grow in amplitude and he slums into Ayunga and cries out against his neck. Ayunga feels him spill inside, scalding hot. Before Yunlong can pull out, he tightens his legs.
“No,” he says, “like this… Want to come like this. I’m so close…”
Yunlong’s hand around him moves faster then. He moves to kiss him again, and Ayunga struggles to breathe between this and the tight circle of his fingers.
When he comes, he feels stunned. They both seem to be. Yunlong rests his cheek against the side of his head, and Ayunga has to remind himself to let him out of his grip.
He can’t quite bring himself to.
They are all sticky and sweaty, and Ayunga’s lips and neck sting, and he probably wouldn’t be able to sit straight any time soon, and his heart can’t at all relax, a violent drum in his chest.
Yunlong shifts to rest against his side, lips grazing his temples, so Ayunga has to untangle himself from him to let him. He unhooks his arm from his neck, he pulls away, feels Yunlong’s softening cock leave his body with a squelch.
Suddenly, that’s the thing that makes him redden.
Yunlong doesn’t seem to notice, or for once has the decency to stay silent about it. Instead, he pulls Ayunga’s hand to his lips and kisses his fingers, one-by-one, the touch light and soft.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
Ayunga stares at the ceiling.
His heart calms down, his skin cools.
He turns to look at Yunlong and watches him nip at his fingers.
“Yes,” he says softly. “Yes.”