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Xie’er looked down at his Yifu, chest and shoulders naked above the water in the bath that Xie’er had prepared for him. That Xie’er himself had dragged Zhao Jing’s useless body to, had lifted and placed gently into the water, propping his legs in such a way to stop him sliding. He wasn’t sure how long his Yifu’s legs would hold him up this way, cramped against the far end of the tub, and Zhao Jing’s expression clearly broadcast his own doubts. The slight fear in his eyes that flamed bright at the first small slip. Xie’er drank in his Yifu’s reaction, not only the fear but the emotion Xie’er chose to leave nameless that was shadowed behind it. He felt sure that if Zhao Jing’s cursed mouth could still move he would be begging, pleading to his son. Now his keeper.
Xie’er wasn’t sure what to name the feeling that thought aroused inside him.
The darkness was softly lit by the candles he’d placed around the room that was probably the most minimally furnished in all of the buildings. Xie’er stepped closer to the tub, Zhao Jing’s eyes tracking his movements as he inhaled deeply to let the soft sent of jasmine oil he had dripped into the water fill his senses. He knew that his Yifu had been dealt a savage blow, by his own son’s hand no less, and Xie’er hoped that the sweet fragrance would help him relax.
Xie’er sat on the tub’s lip just as his Yifu slipped again. The water now sat at the base of his neck, lapping against Zhao Jing’s surprisingly delicate collarbones. The desperate, grunting moan that left Zhao Jing was another welcome reminder to Xie’er that he was the one with the power now. The control. Xie’er smiled at this, reached to stroke a hand down Zhao Jing’s cheek in an attempt to comfort him, “Yifu… you don’t need to worry. I’ve never really failed you, have I? Everything I’ve done…”
Xie’er let his voice trail off. He didn’t need to finish his sentence, knew his Yifu finally understood that Xie’er would have given him the world. Had already given himself, wholly, completely to the man in front of him. Had done so when he was still a child, even before their relationship had become what it was. Xie’er’s life had been his from the moment his Yifu had pulled him from the street.
Zhao Jing slipped again, losing what little stability he’d had in his position. His body slid quickly, the water rushing up towards his chin. Xie’er’s hand moved instantly, snapped from where it had been stroking Zhao Jing’s cheek to his neck where it wrapped firmly around his throat — just enough to keep his head above water without truly choking him. The violence of Zhao Jing’s sudden movement had the water sloshing back and forth, wetting Xie’er’s soft blue robes. But their gazes remained locked, entirely ambivalent to everything else around them. His Yifu’s eyes were truly alight with fear now.
Xie’er slowly inched his face closer to Zhao Jing’s, stopped only when their lips were a breath away from touching, his eyes downcast. “Everything I’ve done… it was always for you.” Xie’er raised his eyes to lock with Zhao Jing’s, softly brushed their lips together, back and forth as he tightened his grip. Watched panic mingle with the fear in Zhao Jing’s eyes. “Everything was for you, Yifu… but it was never enough, was it? I know you love me Yifu, but did you ever really trust me?”
Xie’er lingered for a moment longer, until a heavy sigh left chest as he pulled himself away, dragged Zhao Jing back up from the water to seat him properly again. Xie’er stood, hands moving to his waist to remove his sash, folded it before he placed it on the ground away from the water they had spilt. He removed his robes next, peeled off each layer as his Yifu watched. Smiled when he saw the interest on his Yifu’s face, “Ah yes, you have always enjoyed this, haven’t you Yifu?” He recalled how Zhao Jing had made sure that Xie’er was completely undressed almost every time they had sex. How his Yifu would run his hands reverently over his skin, praise him for the way he kept himself. His words always had Xie’er’s blood run a little warmer, his heart pumping a little faster in his chest. Recalling them now had a similar effect on him.
Even when he expected Xie’er to use only his mouth, his Yifu would pull back admire the porcelain skin of Xie’er’s chest painted with his seed — either watching it run from between Xie’er’s lips to drip down his chin, or jerking himself to completion directly onto Xie’er’s skin. He was thrilled to see that his Yifu still had this reaction, the expectation of seeing Xie’er’s body had pulled most of the fear from his face. But Xie’er had no intention of joining him in the water, stopped when he had stripped down to his under garments. He placed the folded robes on the ground with his sash.
Xie’er reached for the cloth that sat on a small table next to the bath, held it in his hand to submerge it in the water. His eyes were low, focused on the cloth as he reached his other hand further into the bath to pull one of Zhao Jing’s arms above the water. Xie’er dragged the cloth firmly over his Yifu’s skin, and Zhao Jing let out another moan at the action. “Does it feel nice Yifu?” Xie’er asked, felt a gentle flutter in his abdomen at Zhao Jing’s nod.
Zhao Jing continued to gift Xie’er these useless grunts as he moved around the man’s body, picking up each limb with great care to massage the cloth over his Yifu’s skin. It was… pleasant, existing with his Yifu in this way. Where there were no thoughts of manipulation — no schemes, no plans, no games to play — just Xie’er and the man he loved. When Xie’er lifted his Yifu’s other arm and placed feather light kisses against each fingertip once he had cleaned it, he saw Zhao Jing smile deeply. Genuinely.
Once Xie’er had finished cleaning Zhao Jing’s body he wrung most of the excess water from the cloth before throwing it on the ground. Xie’er knew he should stop there, should carry his Yifu’s body back to their rooms, but instead his hand dipped below the water’s surface again. His fingers found the top of Zhao Jing’s thigh and he began to trace small patterns against the skin there. It started innocently, Xie’er keeping his hand closer to his Yifu’s knees, but it itched to wander. And Xie’er let it.
Xie’er knew he was likely crossing into dangerous territory but he found himself driven by the times he had so badly wanted to touch his Yifu but hadn’t dared. Or hadn’t been allowed. He remembered every night that he’d spent alone, unable to freely stand by his Yifu’s side, to lay in his bed. The painful memories had Xie’er dipping his fingers to tease the skin on the inside of Zhao Jing’s thigh, flirting with what lay between them. Xie’er raised his eyes to his Yifu’s face, saw that his eyes were lidded, unfocused.
He watched for Zhao Jing’s reaction as he finally moved his fingertips to stroke along the skin of his balls. His Yifu moaned quietly, his brows furrowed slightly, but Xie’er saw no other reaction. Was surprised that the sharp intake of air he heard had been into his own lungs. Xie’er took Zhao Jing’s balls into his hand proper, felt the weight of them in his palm. Massaged them with a pressure he knew his Yifu’s body would respond to. Listened to the pleasured moans that hit his ears.
Listened to the startled groan when he squeezed his hand tighter, to what he was sure would push his Yifu just over the threshold of too much, walking just the wrong side of pain. Zhao Jing’s breath stuttered as he looked to Xie’er. The Scorpion’s head was tilted, face a picture of innocence. Xie’er released his hand completely, leaving an entirely different but still pained expression on Zhao Jing’s face.
Xie’er stood, walked to the small table and dragged it behind Zhao Jing, seated himself and brought his hands to his Yifu’s shoulders. He simply laid them there at first, cherished the feeling of having his hands on his Yifu’s skin. Stroked from Zhao Jing’s shoulders to his neck, pressed his thumbs into the meat of Zhao Jing’s shoulders. Felt the man truly relax as he worked the muscles there.
How hard it had been for his Yifu to carry the weight of his ambitions for those decades. If only Zhao Jing had seen the advantage in trusting Xie’er wholly, in giving himself to Xie’er as the Scorpion had done with him. But Zhao Jing had denied him that, just as he’d denied Xie’er so many other things.
Things that Xie’er now had the power to take for himself.
Xie’er repositioned the table and himself around at the junction of Zhao Jing’s arm and shoulder. He slid his hand below the water again, fingertips light against the skin of his Yifu’s chest.
“Your body has gotten soft since your last battle, Yifu,” he said as he stroked down to Zhao Jing’s stomach, tickling against the dark hair that trailed down to his groin. It was true — his muscles had begun to atrophy since he had become immobile, as was to be expected.
“But it’s okay, isn’t it? You will never need to worry about your strength again. You will never need to train, to practice martial arts. You will never even need to lift your own wine cup to your lips. Because you can rely on me now Yifu,” Xie’er leaned close to Zhao Jing’s ear, “I will take care of you. I’ve always taken care of you, and I always will. You don’t fail me, I won’t fail you… Right, Yifu?”
Xie’er looked at Zhao Jing’s erection as it bobbed up and down with the disturbed water. It had softened since he had roughly squeezed the mans balls, but not entirely. His Yifu had always been weak with Xie’er in some ways, had never been able to resist the allure of his lithe body, or his beautiful face. Zhao Jing had tried to satisfy his thirst with other adopted sons, but Xie’er knew his Yifu had always seen something different in him. Something special.
Xie’er closed his fingers around his Yifu’s cock, felt it fill in his hand as he stroked it to life again. His other arm came around the back of Zhao Jing’s head, hand resting with fingers loosely wrapped around his Yifu’s vulnerable throat. Here, they gently tickled along the skin of his neck, a soft reminder to Zhao Jing that Xie’er was in control.
The pace Xie’er stroked along Zhao Jing’s dick was slow to start, not wanting to rush this experience too much. Xie’er leant close to his Yifu’s ear again, this time to lap against its lobe, sucking it into his mouth to play with the flesh. A curious bite had Zhao Jing moaning and Xie’er smiled against his skin. He continued to bite the skin along his Yifu’s jaw, wherever he could reach given the slightly awkward position.
Xie’er’s grip tightened as he increased the speed of his motions on his Yifu’s cock, pumping the man in earnest. His Yifu’s moans became more consistent, melting into an almost continuous sound that fell from his lips. Xie’er’s fingers began to tighten against his throat as well, mimicking the hold he had on his Yifu earlier.
Zhao Jing’s eyes flitted to the side to make contact with Xie’er’s. Interestingly, where Xie’er saw the fear so clearly in his Yifu’s eyes earlier, now there was no more than a whisper. Xie’er tilted his head in curiosity… What wonderful things you could learn about a man if you brought them close to orgasm. Zhao Jing had always assumed a dominant role with Xie’er, and Xie’er had let him. He enjoyed submitting to his Yifu in a way he wouldn’t have for any other. But this… Xie’er realised that maybe they had missed the chance for a different dynamic.
Feeling Zhao Jing’s cock harden further in his fist, Xie’er knew the man was close. His Yifu kept his eyes turned to Xie’er, and so he maintained the contact that they had. Xie’er knew he had a firm enough grip on the man’s neck to lessen the blood flow without cutting it off completely, and it seemed as though his Yifu had realised this too, just as he had earlier. So Xie’er kept his focus on his Yifu’s eyes as he jerked him to completion, watched as Zhao Jing’s brow creased, listened to the stuttered groans and grunts.
Once he had finished, Zhao Jing blinked slowly, almost dazed as he looked at Xie’er. Xie’er smiled at him as he released the hold he had on both his neck and his dick, broke eye contact to finally look down to the mess his Yifu had made.
And what a mess it was.
Most of the cum sank heavily from where it had been shot from Zhao Jing’s dick onto his stomach. Some of it floated to the surface of the water, where Xie’er played with it in his fingers. He lifted what he could to his mouth, sucked the fluid from each digit. Xie’er had missed the way his Yifu tasted.
Xie’er sighed heavily once he had finished licking himself clean, tutted, “Oh, what a mess you’ve made of yourself Yifu! After everything I did to clean you.” He almost wished his Yifu could speak again — this was one time he was guaranteed to receive Zhao Jing’s praise.
But he knew it wouldn’t be worth it, the honeyed words from his Yifu more dangerous to Xie’er than any poison, any assassin. Xie’er exhaled through his nose as he reached for the towel he had thrown earlier, used it to clean most of the cum from Zhao Jing. Xie’er would lift the man from the bath himself, dry him off before he carried him back to their room to dress him. Feed him.
And perhaps Xie’er would take a little more from him, now that he could. His Yifu loved him, and Xie’er had promised to take care of him in every way. And he truly intended to.