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(007 in) A Ride to Remember

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The expression that Jiang Cheng wore when he descended upon HQ, stalking along its sleek halls with single-minded intent, must have been something fearsome indeed. All personnel gave him a wide berth. The more courageous of the lot hazarded a nod of greeting. One person in the inner wing, Agent Lu, even saluted him, as if Jiang Cheng were going to war.


He strode up to the tall, unmarked door at the very end of the hall and slapped his palm against the identification panel. It opened smoothly for him.


“I didn’t knock,” Jiang Cheng snapped, marching inside. Unfortunately for him, the door was of the automatic variety so he couldn’t take satisfaction in slamming it shut.

The man sitting behind the large desk in the center of the spacious office smiled at him. 

“Simply saving you some face,” he said. His dark hair was pulled back in its usual low ponytail; the tail of it draped over strong shoulders and fell against the front of his chest, joining the other loose locks that framed his face. Unlike Jiang Cheng’s own mussed appearance, M had nary a strand of hair out of place. It ticked Jiang Cheng off, honestly.

M’s smile widened. "Agent 007, welcome back. I trust your trip went well?"

In lieu of a proper greeting, Jiang Cheng pulled a parcel from inside his jacket and tossed it onto the desk. It slid across the gleaming glass surface, knocking several objects out of its path, and came to a neat stop in front of the man, who picked it up with one gloved hand like it was the daily paper and not something Jiang Cheng had gone to quite some lengths to retrieve.

“Light reading from your trip?” M asked, sounding amused.

“Page 132,” Jiang Cheng said curtly.

One eyebrow raised, M regarded the rather salacious cover of the paperback, on which rosy script text proclaimed its title: A Ride to Remember. Below that was an artist’s rendition of a passionately embracing couple.

“Oh? I take it you’ve read it thoroughly, then?” he mused, thumbing the dog-eared edges. “Is there something of particular interest to you on that page?”

Jiang Cheng scowled and folded his arms. “It’s what the contact told me,” he retorted, refusing to rise to the bait.

He had, of course, gone through the entire damned thing cover to cover because he wouldn't risk being made a fool by something like this, but that didn’t mean he'd admit it.

Humming thoughtfully, M flipped the book open and glanced over the page in question. 

“Everything appears to be in order,” he said, looking up and giving him another smile. “I Branch will be glad to get their hands on this. I must congratulate you on another job well done.”

Jiang Cheng’s scowl deepend. “No thanks to the intel," he grumbled.

M frowned. “You ran into a problem, then?"

“An unwelcome welcome party.”

“Ah. I did notice you appear slightly less well put-together than usual, but I simply attributed that to the weather,” M remarked, levelling him with an appraising look from head to toe. 

Jiang Cheng forced himself not to react, standing staunchly with his arms still crossed. “You know flattery doesn't work on me.”

“Doesn't it?” M murmured. Sly bastard. Sobering, he continued, “That is rather concerning to hear, though. Something like that should not have slipped under our radar. I’ll look into it.”

Jiang Cheng almost cringed in sympathy. He didn’t envy the poor fool who’d have to answer to M’s inquiry.

“In light of this information,” M added, “I’d say your efforts call for greater commendation. Completing your objective in spite of the unexpected complications... I’d expect nothing less from you, 007.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jiang Cheng uncrossed his arms. “If that’s all—”

“One moment, if you please.” M set the book aside then relaxed back in his seat. His brown eyes met Jiang Cheng’s gray ones and he smiled—a different smile from the ones earlier. This one was gentler, more familiar. “Not even any time of day to spare for me?” he said, tone playful.

With a roll of his eyes and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, Jiang Cheng answered, “I’m a busy man, you know.” He stepped forward, rounding the desk. M—no, Lan Xichen stood to meet him, stepping in close enough to lightly trace a scrape on Jiang Cheng's face with his thumb. 

“I’ve no doubt about that. So very busy, Mr. 007. Don’t you know it’s important to take a break every now and then?”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Like you’re one to talk,” he said. As nice as Lan Xichen’s gloved palm felt against his cheek, he wasn't in the right mood to savor it at the moment.

Lan Xichen seemed to realize this because he stepped back and dropped into his office chair, legs splayed wide. Smiling, he patted his thigh.

“You must be tired from traveling, agent. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Such a thick face,” he muttered. Still, he climbed onto the chair with him, straddling the other man's lap. In this position, he had to tilt his head down to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes. They were close enough now that he could make out the warm amber flecks in the brown irises—a deep, rich chocolate which melted into wide, dark pupils. Lan Xichen’s eyelashes were long, and they dipped temptingly, casting soft shadows over flawless, regal cheekbones.

Jiang Cheng’s fingers clenched on the armrest. He knew Lan Xichen could sense how worked up he still was, muscles tense with residual irritation and adrenaline. It was nothing new. There were days like this, every now and then, when it took Jiang Cheng a little longer to wind down, for his blood to settle and his mind to clear, and there were ways he dealt with it. Sometimes he’d take it out on the sandbags in the exercise facility, or go for a run out in the elements. And, sometimes, a less lonely, more pleasurable option was available.

Jiang Cheng could feel the vibrations within Lan Xichen’s chest when the other man finally spoke:

“Jiang Cheng.”

Patience snapping, Jiang Cheng didn’t let him say anything more and closed the final distance between them. Lan Xichen’s mouth was warm and wet and welcoming, parting easily before the insistent press of Jiang Cheng’s lips. Jiang Cheng licked inside eagerly like a man parched and starving before a banquet, relishing in the intoxicating slide of their tongues. 

Lan Xichen let him devour his mouth while his hands slid beneath the lapels of Jiang Cheng’s unbuttoned jacket, helping him slip it off his shoulders to crumple to the floor. He shrugged out of his holster as well, and it followed his jacket with a muted thump. Then, those large hands ran across his torso, mapping the contours of his body through the remaining thin, skin-tight undershirt—the same kind that Lan Xichen himself wore—before roaming lower.

A firm squeeze of his ass prompted Jiang Cheng to pull back, a string of saliva trailing and snapping between them. Lan Xichen’s eyes were dark, and they followed Jiang Cheng’s tongue when it swiped over his bottom lip. Only then did Jiang Cheng notice just how close they were, how their bodies were pressed nearly flush from chest to leg. He was so hard already, just from a kiss, and he could feel an answering firmness against his inner thigh.

"What about my report?" Jiang Cheng asked belatedly. His voice was embarrassingly hoarse. 

"Oh I'm certain you'll debrief me later."

Jiang Cheng groaned, partly because of the godawful line and partly because Lan Xichen had just palmed his dick through the front of his pants. "That was—so fucking terrible."

Lan Xichen raised a brow, lips curved in a smile. “Do you mean to tell me you’d rather wait?”

Fuck no.” With unsteady fingers, Jiang Cheng fumbled with the fly of Lan Xichen’s slacks until he caught the zipper and tugged it down, then reached inside to unceremoniously grab the other man’s crotch. “Don’t talk like you’re not ready to burst your pants, you arrogant prick,” he sneered.

Lan Xichen tutted at his crassness. He reached down into one of the drawers, hardly sparing a glance, and withdrew a small tube and a foil packet before leaning up and kissing Jiang Cheng again, sucking his lip into his mouth and letting his teeth scrape the plump flesh like a promise. 

They parted and Jiang Cheng’s eyes flicked down to the items in Lan Xichen’s hand. “You want me that much?” he taunted.

"Isn’t it the other way around?” Lan Xichen smiled, smug and sultry. “Besides," he continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "I think I can be excused, seeing as how you’re my husband."

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Unfortunately." 

“Unfortunate for me or for you? Because I consider myself very fortunate.” To punctuate that, Lan Xichen rolled his hips up, rubbing their groins together.

Jiang Cheng didn’t reply, preoccupied with reaching into the front of Lan Xichen’s underwear. He found what he was looking for and drew it out, giving the searing flesh a few strokes for good measure. 

Never, not even under threat of his life, would he admit how the sight of Lan Xichen’s cock like this always made his mouth water. It was impressively long and thick, and rather handsome as far as dicks go, in Jiang Cheng’s personal opinion. It jutted up proudly, curving slightly toward Lan Xichen’s abdomen. Jiang Cheng eyed the veins running along the length of it, veins that he liked to follow with his tongue when he—  

He dismissed the thought. There would be time for that later. Right now…

Right now he was too damn horny, and if he didn't have something in his ass within the next five minutes he was going to go mad.

He voiced that last part aloud, eliciting a chuckle from Lan Xichen.

"Whatever you want, baby," he said, nosing at the soft underside of Jiang Cheng’s jaw.

Jiang Cheng shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs in one go. Biting the tip of his finger, he tugged his right glove off with his teeth so that he could slick his fingers up with the lube Lan Xichen handed him. Then, reaching behind him, he shoved two fingers into himself at once. He stretched and lubed himself with quick, efficient movements, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. 

Lan Xichen reached around him and touched Jiang Cheng’s thrusting fingers. “Easy...”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng growled, smacking Lan Xichen’s hand away. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Lan Xichen said, dropping a kiss on his chin.

Biting back his groans, Jiang Cheng scissored his fingers then worked in a third, fucking them deep into his hole and spreading them on the withdraw. “I can handle it. I just, fuck, I need—”

“I know, baby,” Lan Xichen soothed, brushing his lips over Jiang Cheng’s jaw.

Impatiently, Jiang Cheng grabbed the condom, tore open the foil square, and rolled it onto Lan Xichen’s stiff cock in a swift, practiced motion. As much as they both enjoyed doing it bareback, it’d be far too inconvenient and messy in this situation. Jiang Cheng wasn’t making that mistake twice.

He gave Lan Xichen’s shaft a perfunctory stroke with his lubed hand then maneuvered himself into position, hovering over it. With Lan Xichen’s hands on his hip steadying him, he lowered himself, pressing down until his hole gave in to the pressure and the head of Lan Xichen’s dick finally popped inside, past the tight ring of muscle.

It ached, being held open around the wide head of Lan Xichen’s cock, a sharp sting that shot up his spine and settled low in his pelvis. It was just a bit too tight, the friction just a bit too much, and it was exactly how Jiang Cheng wanted it right now, heart thudding and every nerve prickling with heat as he rolled his hips to bully more of that hard length inside of him. Lan Xichen held still, letting Jiang Cheng grind down until he’d seated himself fully on the thick cock.

He let out a shuddery breath when he finally took all of him. Lan Xichen pressed a kiss to his cheek, then, and against the warm skin there, he murmured, “Take what you need.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t need further prompting. He braced one arm against Lan Xichen’s thigh, hooked the other around his neck, and began to move as he pleased, thighs flexing in exertion as he lifted himself up then rocked back down, fucking Lan Xichen into him to the root. With each roll of his hips, the slide became easier, smoother, as he felt his body give way and mold to Lan Xichen’s cock. Pleasure rushed in like the lifting of a dam, flooding away the discomfort until even the insistent ache of being stretched so wide with minimal prep melted into intense, molten heat. Every grind seared heady sparks of desire up his spine. His head hung low as he sought the best angle, breath huffing raggedly against Lan Xichen’s shoulder as tension of a different sort gathered and pulsed low in his belly.

Hands circled his waist, guiding him while he impaled himself over and over on that cock.

“That’s it,” Lan Xichen encouraged lowly. “Lift up a little more.”

Jiang Cheng felt the other man shift slightly underneath him and then, without warning, the cock inside him was shoving against that one spot with every thrust. Moaning, Jiang Cheng shuddered and curled tighter around Lan Xichen’s broad shoulders, both hands wound around the other man’s neck now.

At some point, Lan Xichen’s hips had started grinding up, meeting each of Jiang Cheng’s thrusts downward. The other man's skin was beaded with perspiration and the muscles beneath Jiang Cheng's palms were tense with strain, and he basked in the triumphant feeling that came from knowing that he’d undone the other man like this.

“A-Cheng, look.” Lan Xichen pressed their sweaty foreheads together. “See how much you’re leaking.”

Peering down, Jiang Cheng saw that with every movement, pale liquid gathered at the tip of his own swollen, red cock and trailed down the shaft. The sight of it was obscene.

Fuck—s-shut the hell up,” he groaned, fingers digging harshly into Lan Xichen’s biceps. His entire body felt aflame, from where they were connected to the tips of his ears.

“Ah, A-Cheng,” Lan Xichen whispered, "if only you could see how lewd you look right now.”

On the next frantic downward grind, Jiang Cheng’s climax struck him without warning. His hole clenched wildly around Lan Xichen’s length and his dick jerked, warmth splattering his belly as his senses whited out in the sudden shock of pleasure.

He was still twitching from the aftershocks when another frisson of sensation jolted him to awareness. His eyes flew open. Lan Xichen had started moving again, cock still sheathed inside him and just as hard as before.

“Ah, wait,” Jiang Cheng gasped. 

Lan Xichen nipped at his bobbing Adam’s apple and rasped, “I don’t think I can wait anymore, A-Cheng.” 

With that, his husband started driving up into him, the force of it rocking Jiang Cheng’s entire body. That thick cock felt huge inside him; it pulsed against his walls, as hot and agonizing as a brand against sensitive nerves. Lan Xichen’s thrusts were longer now, bouncing Jiang Cheng on his lap as he used his slick, loosened hole for his own pleasure. Overstimulated, Jiang Cheng clung to his back, fingers scrabbling feebly for purchase in smooth fabric.

Without pausing, Lan Xichen slipped his fingers under the hem of Jiang Cheng’s shirt. Though tight, the material was pliable and stretched to accommodate his hands as he ran them up the front of Jiang Cheng’s torso until they bracketed his ribs. Hazily, Jiang Cheng watched the outline of those hands through his shirt as they began kneading his pecs and rubbing his nipples. A sharp pinch drew a moan from him before Lan Xichen bent his head and mouthed at Jiang Cheng’s nipple through his shirt, dampening the fabric.

Eyes widening, Jiang Cheng tugged at the hair at the back of Lan Xichen’s head, pulling him away. 

“Wait—don’t you dare. Don’t bite! Last time…” he trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the rest.

Huffing, Lan Xichen lifted his head and gave Jiang Cheng’s nipples one more pinch before his hands dropped to settle at his waist. He nipped at Jiang Cheng’s clavicle instead then pulled back to look him in the face. His eyes were practically inky pools now, with only a sliver of amber showing around the blown pupils. His breaths were harsh, his brows furrowed in concentration and pleasure as he drove into Jiang Cheng’s body. When Jiang Cheng squeezed down around him, he let out a guttural moan and shoved up even deeper into him, rubbing and pressing against every sensitive spot. Jiang Cheng shuddered, eyes glazed and lashes clumped with dampness.

“Are you close?” Jiang Cheng asked him, voice hoarse.

“Just—just a little more, sweetheart,” Lan Xichen mumbled, grip bruising against Jiang Cheng’s hip bones. “You are too, right?”

With every rock of their hips, Jiang Cheng’s member, stiff once more, flopped against his stomach, slick with both spend and precum. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d gotten hard again in the barrage of sensations.

His left hand came up and cupped the sharp line of Lan Xichen’s jaw, drawing the other man into a deep, openmouthed kiss, lips working against each other and tongues licking into each other’s mouths, wet and wanting. Jiang Cheng moaned when Lan Xichen sucked lightly on his tongue before they parted to gasp for breath.

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, pressing another kiss to the man’s parted lips. “C’mon, come for me…” 

With a desperate groan, Lan Xichen did just that, slamming up into Jiang Cheng’s plaint hole while he used his hold on Jiang Cheng’s waist to force him down so that their hips were flush. Jiang Cheng felt the hardness inside him jerk, buried impossibly deep, and his own orgasm shook him as well, the tension that had coiled anew within his belly snapping in another blinding swell of pleasure.

Lan Xichen fell back in the chair and Jiang Cheng went with him, dropping against his broad chest. 

“Ah,” Lan Xichen breathed, turning his head to kiss along Jiang Cheng’s damp neck, “you did so well, A-Cheng.”

After giving himself a few moments to recover, Jiang Cheng rose up onto knees until Lan Xichen’s cock slipped out of him. Lan Xichen pulled off the soiled condom, tied it off, and threw it into a small, covered bin within arm’s reach, before coaxing Jiang Cheng back into a leisurely kiss. 

“Mm…” Sated, Jiang Cheng let Lan Xichen lick into his mouth and nibble at his swollen lips, nipping at Lan Xichen’s tongue in return.

“My A-Cheng always tastes so sweet,” Lan Xichen sighed into their kiss, brushing some of Jiang Cheng’s loose bangs away from his forehead  

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “The only thing sweet is your talking,” he returned, letting Lan Xichen cup the globes of his ass and even fondle them a bit without complaint.

Suddenly, the other man surged upward and pushed him against the cool surface of the desk. Thankfully, there wasn’t much in the way, and even if there were, Jiang Cheng wouldn't give the least bit of a damn at that moment, not with Lan Xichen sucking hungry kisses down the tendon of his throat.

Jiang Cheng felt Lan Xichen shift around, shivering slightly at the abrupt rush of cool, temperature-regulated air when the other man pulled away. Jiang Cheng couldn't see what he was doing, but a brief moment later Lan Xichen was back, plastering himself to Jiang Cheng's front with one arm braced by his head and the other disappearing somewhere below.

"Mn… nn?!" Jiang Cheng startled when he felt digits rub at his twitching hole. It felt weird, the texture of Lan Xichen's glove against that place. “Again?!” he exclaimed, breathless.

“A-Cheng wants to go again? How fortuitous,” Lan Xichen murmured, “so do I.”

“That’s not what—" Lan Xichen sheathed himself in one hot thrust and Jiang Cheng's head lolled backward. "... Fuck.”

Gaze unfocused, he fell backward onto the cool desk. Lan Xichen took the opportunity to hitch Jiang Cheng’s thighs higher against the crooks of his elbows, pressing forward and folding Jiang Cheng nearly in half.

“Do you remember? The first time we did it in this office?” Lan Xichen spoke hotly into his ear. “I took you on this very desk. You looked so debauched.”

How could Jiang Cheng forget? That day, mere weeks after his official appointment as ‘M’, Lan Xichen had bent him over the smooth, gleaming surface and fucked him so hard the bruises on his hip bones had lingered for weeks.

“You’re really… such a fucking pervert—ah—Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng panted, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “If everyone knew the kind of depraved thoughts M has—”

“You want them to know, Wanyin?” Lan Xichen purred, using an old code name of Jiang Cheng’s that was familiar to them both. “Want everyone to know that you like it when I have you in my office, how you moan and cry and beg me—” 

Jiang Cheng cut him off by leaning up to crush their lips together again. The shift in angle made the thrusts hammer more firmly against the most sensitive, tender parts inside of Jiang Cheng, the head of Lan Xichen’s cock scraping over his prostate with every stroke. He shuddered and broke their kiss, his startled moan echoing around the room. His cock attempted a weak twitch on his abdomen against the streaks of cum that were already splattered there.

“You’re so perfect, A-Cheng,” Lan Xichen mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Doing so well, my love. Just a little more.”

The narrow space between them had grown hot and damp with their breaths and mingled body heat. The loose strands of Lan Xichen’s hair fell around them and onto the desk by Jiang Cheng’s head. Wrapping his arms around those strong shoulders, Jiang Cheng buried his face in Lan Xichen’s neck, inhaling the smell of sex and sweat, the familar sandalwood scent his husband always carried with him plus his natural scent, faintly musky yet crisp.

Jiang Cheng really wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate, fucked out as he was after two rounds.

As if reading his mind, Lan Xichen’s hand slid down his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of the touch, and then long, gloved fingers were wrapping around him. The smooth texture of the synthetic material was just on this side of too much, too stimulating against the delicate skin of his oversensitive length. It only took one press of Lan Xichen's thumb to a spot under the head of it for Jiang Cheng to come again, eyes rolling back and hips jerking uncontrollably as thin, watery gushes of cum from his tired cock splashed onto his stomach, mingling with the mess that was already there. He may have cried out again—he couldn’t be sure.

He collapsed bonelessly. Lan Xichen groaned and quickened his pace, pushing Jiang Cheng further up the desk with each harsh thrust. Jiang Cheng’s vision was swimming; spots danced at the edges of it. He couldn’t even make a sound anymore, the breath driven out of his lungs. All the tension had bled out from him, too, and his limbs felt weak as jelly. He could only lie there, shivering with oversensitivity as Lan Xichen fucked him hard and fast and without rhythm until at last the other man stilled above him. 

His features were so ethereal, Jiang Cheng thought, even drawn tense with the pleasure of his climax.

Finally, Lan Xichen sagged, braced on his elbows so he didn’t fall onto Jiang Cheng. With the gradual steadying of his racing pulse, Jiang Cheng’s embarrassment caught up to him and he flung his arm over his flushed face.

Lan Xichen glanced to the side and chuckled breathlessly.

“A-Cheng, it really is fitting, isn’t it? Poetic, even.”

Jiang Cheng lifted his arm so he could follow Lan Xichen’s gaze. Spotting the erotic paperback sitting just out of reach, he beat Lan Xichen’s shoulder with his gloved fist.

“Aren't you done being shameless already?” he grumbled, pushing Lan Xichen away so he could heave himself off of the desk onto shaky legs and assess the damage. 

Unsurprisingly, he ached all over, especially in his lower spine, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He grimaced at the sight of his stomach covered in drying cum and fluids, accepting the damp tissues Lan Xichen offered him to clean himself up. Finally, he freed his hair from its ruined bun and ran his fingers through it before tying it back up. As he did, he noticed Lan Xichen eying his neck. Reaching up to the spot, he felt a fresh bruise under his fingers.

He rolled his eyes. “Insatiable beast.”

“You don’t mind, right, A-Cheng?” Lan Xichen replied, eyes curving.


Still eyeing him, Lan Xichen’s expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder… “


“Have any of the other agents said anything strange to you?”

Jiang Cheng frowned, cocking his head. “‘Strange’ how?”

Lan Xichen scratched his chin and looked away. “... Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“Heh. Retirement getting to you, old man?” 

“Nothing of the sort. Besides, I’m only three years older than you, if you recall.”

“Whatever.” Jiang Cheng smirked. “Who knows what effects switching to a desk job has had on you.”

Lan Xichen stalked forward and backed him against the corner of the desk, caging him between his arms. “Oh? Would you like another demonstration?” 

“Of what, how you’re hornier now?” Jiang Cheng laughed.

Lan Xichen chuckled ruefully as well, stepping back. “Must I remind you that the one who barged in here all hot and bothered was not me, but you?”

“Must I remind you that you were the one who went two more rounds?” Jiang Cheng countered.

“One more round, for me,” Lan Xichen corrected.


Jiang Cheng grabbed his things off of the floor and looked himself over one more time. Drying blotches stained the front of his dark undershirt, but with his jacket buttoned, no one would notice. There was nothing he could do about any marks above his collar but he wasn't planning on sticking around for much longer anyway.

“Good work today, 007. You’re dismissed for the remainder of the week. You've earned the rest.”

He tossed a glance back at the other man, who’d settled back in his chair. The desk was tidy with everything in its place once again, including that gaudy paperback that sat innocently in one corner. 

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, smirking. “I’ve got a dinner date tonight, as it happens.”

“Is that so?” Amber eyes regarded him, cool and amused.

“Yeah. They’d better not be late or I’ll be very put out.”

M’s soft laughter followed him out the door.

“Duly noted, agent.”