Zhao Yunlan doesn’t usually take what the doctors tell him seriously. Sure, he should smoke less, eat better, and drink more water, but who’s got time for that when his newly found god powers can sustain him through the worst of his earthly vices? However, not even Kunlun’s powers are limitless, and the last time Shen Wei dragged him to the hospital—literally, physically dragged him into the building in the most undignified fashion—the doctor suggested he try yoga for his stress.
Which is how he ended up letting Da Qing goad him into rolling out his mat today.
Da Qing thinks Zhao Yunlan doing yoga is the funniest thing since he caught Zhao Yunlan hobbling the morning after his first romp in the sheets with Shen Wei, and the damn fat cat teases Zhao Yunlan about it every chance he gets. In his defense, Zhao Yunlan had grossly underestimated how aggressively Shen Wei could show his love. When the recipient of all that love is a mere human in his thirties with as many bad habits as Zhao Yunlan has, he’s lucky all he had was a bruised hip and a slight limp.
Da Qing arches his back and looks at Zhao Yunlan with what may be a smug expression, but it’s a crap shoot when his face practically disappears behind his rolls of neck fat. “Next is the cat cow pose.”
Zhao Yunlan maneuvers his body awkwardly on the yoga mat until he’s on his hands and knees, his back creaking as he pushes his spine upwards. “I’m the cat, and you’re the cow, right?”
Da Qing hisses and swipes at him with a paw. Zhao Yunlan whips his arm back, and in the process of dodging razor sharp claws, he nearly faceplants. Sitting on the couch, Shen Wei glances over his glasses—the glasses he doesn’t need but wears because Zhao Yunlan let slip that one time that he loves the hot professor look on him—and cocks an eyebrow at him.
Having Shen Wei’s eyes on him always sends a zing of desire through him. It’s a blessing and a curse depending on the time of day and where they are, but in the comfort of their apartment on a lazy day off? It’s definitely a blessing. Zhao Yunlan exhales as he raises his chest, lowering his spine until his body is bowed in what he’d like to think is a graceful arc. Shen Wei’s eyes darken, and Zhao Yunlan doesn’t hide the smug lazy smile stretching across his face.
He doesn’t practice yoga as often as he should, but the way Shen Wei is looking at him—like he wants to have him for lunch—is an incentive for him to take the doctor’s orders more seriously.
“Aye, Si Mao, what’s next?”
They go through a series of complicated twists and bends that makes Zhao Yunlan question all of his life choices. Da Qing shouts curses at him for his bad posture, but Zhao Yunlan isn’t paying attention to him. His focus is entirely on the good professor sitting prim and proper on the couch with a stack of papers in his lap. He’s supposed to be grading those papers, but he hasn’t flipped a single page since Zhao Yunlan rolled out his yoga mat on the floor in front of him.
Instead, his eyes grow stormier with each new pose, and his breathing grows shallower every time Zhao Yunlan groans or hisses when Da Qing bullies him into something that’s absolutely unnatural for the human body. Shen Wei leans forward, the movement so slight it might not have happened, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when Zhao Yunlan thrusts his groin towards the ceiling in what Da Qing calls the bridge pose.
Shen Wei has spent his entire life suppressing his nature, fighting against the chaos swirling inside him like a whirlpool of murderous darkness. Zhao Yunlan appreciates that Shen Wei keeps his desire to eat people at a minimum, but some days, days like today when his body is warm and his tendons are supple and his joints don’t ache from the thought of a bout of bone-popping love-making with his Ghost Slayer boyfriend, Zhao Yunlan likes to test Shen Wei’s control.
Zhao Yunlan hops onto the balls of his feet and plants his hands firmly on the yoga mat in front of him. He straightens his legs, enjoying the stretch in his hamstrings and calves even as he wiggles his ass in Shen Wei’s direction.
Beside him, Da Qing hisses his displeasure, “I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?” Zhao Yunlan asks innocently, his voice slightly choked as he shifts his weight forward so he can peek between his knees at Shen Wei’s face, which is darker than his inky robes and yet still handsome even when upside down.
“No self-respecting cat is going to disgrace himself with a pose called downward dog.” Da Qing glares at Zhao Yunlan before bringing his left front paw in for a thorough licking.
“You have self-respect?” Zhao Yunlan retorts.
Da Qing’s rotund body catapults into Zhao Yunlan’s face with a force powered by a million little dried fish. Zhao Yunlan yelps, his arms buckle, and he crumples onto the mat in a mess of flailing limbs.
“What the fuck!” He rolls to his side and makes a grab for Da Qing, but the damn cat defies physics as he darts out of range, his body a big, fat blur of black fur. Zhao Yunlan shakes his head, clearing the dull pain throbbing behind his eyes, and hops back onto his feet. He lunges at Da Qing, making another grab for his tail. “Get back here and fight me like a man!”
Da Qing hops out of the way once more, but instead of running away, he turns around and faces Zhao Yunlan, his teeth bared as his body starts to elongate. In the space between two breaths, a lithe young man dressed in a loose white robe crouches where the cat used to be, a cascade of jet black hair spilling past his pale, creamy skin. It still baffles Zhao Yunlan how different Da Qing looks in his human form.
“I can kick your ass in both forms,” Da Qing hisses, then throws himself at Zhao Yunlan with cat-like grace, his claws extended from human fingertips.
Da Qing crashes into Zhao Yunlan, knocking him onto his back, and straddles his hips. Zhao Yunlan catches Da Qing’s wrists in both hands, and they share a playful yet heated glare, their faces splitting into mirroring grins.
Something from millenia ago teases the edges of his memories. A younger Da Qing, in all his fluffy kitten prowess, pounced on a then young Kunlun, and they rolled around in the forbidden grounds of Kunlun mountain. Grass and sticks stuck to fur and hair. Dirt smeared across faces, kitten and god. They were so carefree back then, so naive to the painful choices that would rip them apart for many lifetimes to come.
Da Qing breaks free from Zhao Yunlan’s grasp, then freezes with one clawed hand raised, his eyes popping wide like saucers. Before Zhao Yunlan realizes, he’s willed away his scandalously short shorts and threadbare t-shirt. Instead, he’s swathed in a familiar green robe, the fabric so soft and light it’s like smoke upon his skin.
“That’s enough yoga for today.” Shen Wei’s voice drifts over them like frost. It’s so mild and so incredibly cold Zhao Yunlan can almost taste snow in the air.
Astride him, Da Qing shudders, and the slitted pupils of his cat eyes blow wide in an instant. He jumps off Zhao Yunlan, shifting back into the round furry body of a black cat mid-air, and lands on all four paws with his tail poofed like a feather duster. His ears, already small in comparison to the rest of his face, are flat against his skull, nearly disappearing under the fluff of his mane.
Zhao Yunlan rolls onto his stomach, grimaces when his now long hair catches under his shoulder, and finds Shen Wei standing. He walks toward them, his slippered feet so quiet on the hardwood floor it’s as if he’s floating.
Turning into Kunlun isn’t exactly a hobby of his, but sometimes certain memories that are dear to him can trigger a full transformation. Like right now. Because as much as he and Da Qing are at each other’s throats, the bond and love they share transcend space and time.
Something flashes in Shen Wei’s eyes, and it’s like staring into black pools of pure chaos that’s only kept in check by the flimsy frames of his glasses. The glasses that he’s pulling from the bridge of his nose and tossing aside. Shen Wei’s stare skips over Zhao Yunlan and lands on Da Qing, and his steps are as measured as if he’s out taking a stroll, but the immense pressure of every inch closed between them sends Da Qing scrambling backwards.
For the briefest of moments, Zhao Yunlan fears for Da Qing’s life.
“Shen Wei?” Zhao Yunlan swallows. “Shen Jiao Shou?” When Shen Wei doesn’t answer, when he calmly takes another step towards Da Qing, Zhao Yunlan scrambles to his feet and shields Da Qing. “Xiao Wei?”
Shen Wei’s gaze flicks from the cat to Zhao Yunlan, and Zhao Yunlan staggers from the intensity of those inky black eyes. Mixed in the miasma of darkness and killing intent is desire so sharp it cuts into Zhao Yunlan’s flesh. Shen Wei’s eyes rake along Zhao Yunlan’s body like talons, and when his eyes find Zhao Yunlan’s once more, there’s pain and regret and self-loathing swimming in those beautiful eyes too.
They’ve enjoyed each other's company in the bedroom many, many times since they stopped the near-collapse of the world, but roleplaying as Kunlun has never happened. Sure, Zhao Yunlan has pulled out the green robes and tiny braids to win an argument here and there—he’s not above playing dirty—but this is too cruel even for him.
“Ah—I’m—I can change—” He waves at the shimmering material that seems to flutter despite the lack of a breeze in the apartment.
“No.” Zhao Yunlan freezes. It’s not just the word, but the ferocity behind it that has Zhao Yunlan reeling. Shen Wei closes the distance between them, his body so close the edges of the robe brush up against the creases of his perfectly ironed trousers. “You have teased me long enough.”
Zhao Yunlan swallows and takes a small step back, but Shen Wei follows, eats up even more space between them until they’re standing nose to nose. “Tease you? Aiyo, we were just doing yoga. Like the doctor said, right? You were there when he said I should…”
If looks could strip a man naked and fuck him seven ways to Sunday, Zhao Yunlan would be a thoroughly debauched mess on the floor. Shen Wei grips the front of Zhao Yunlan’s robes, bruising the delicate silk in his fist, and yanks him close.
Staring into Shen Wei’s eyes is like falling into the universe, endless and full of undiscovered mysteries. They stand like this, patient, as if Shen Wei hasn’t waited five thousand years and schemed like his life depended on it to be with Zhao Yunlan. As if Zhao Yunlan hasn’t gone through the wheel of reincarnation over and over just to be here at this very moment.
Then, Shen Wei’s lips crash into his.
The copper tang of blood fills his mouth, and Zhao Yunlan grunts even as Shen Wei’s tongue shoves past his lips. The sweetness of freshly fallen snow mingles with the sharpness of the blood, smothering the metallic flavour until all that’s left is the taste of something pure and unsullied. A love born out of darkness and chaos that’s outlasted even the mightiest of gods.
Shen Wei crushes Zhao Yunlan to him, strong arms encircling Zhao Yunlan’s body, nails pulling at the delicate fabric from a time long forgotten, lips devouring a man and a god, claiming both as rightfully his. And Zhao Yunlan doesn’t have the mental capacity to fight it. Not that he would want to. He belongs to Shen Wei just as he belongs with Shen Wei, since the day they met and every day after that.
Without breaking the kiss, Shen Wei throws out a hand and the now familiar pressure of his power radiates like a bubble around them. It expands like a living thing, engulfing the whole apartment like a protective layer that keeps unwanted things out, and everything else in. The last time Shen Wei warded their apartment like this, he made Zhao Yunlan scream so loudly he couldn’t speak for two days. Zhao Yunlan swallows even as his cock twitches with interest.
Shen Wei’s gaze shifts from the couch to the yoga mat on the floor to the direction of their bedroom, and Zhao Yunlan can almost hear the gears turning in his head. He also almost hears the little click of decision when Shen Wei’s lips curl at the corners into a smile truly fit for the Ghost King. His hands drop to Zhao Yunlan’s hips, fingers digging into flesh through layers of green silk, and Zhao Yunlan can already imagine the dots of bruises he’ll find there in the morning.
Zhao Yunlan lets himself be marched back toward the couch, but before he can dramatically collapse into it, Shen Wei shoves him onto his knees on top of the yoga mat. He grips Zhao Yunlan’s chin, forcing him to look up, and touches his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
In all his memories from this lifetime and every lifetime before, all the way back to when he was Kunlun, it was always Shen Wei looking up at him. Shen Wei watched him, scrutinized his every move, and catalogued his every expression. Now, it’s Zhao Yunlan looking up at him . Shen Wei has him right where he wants him, dancing on the edge of a sword for him.
Shen Wei strokes Zhao Yunlan’s cheek and down the length of his throat. His hand pauses on the thin braid draped across Zhao Yunlan’s collarbone, then he twirls the strand around his fingers before letting it slip back against the green robe. Shen Wei brushes his fingers across the soft fabric, his touch light and reverent, and Zhao Yunlan finds awe in his distant eyes.
From one blink to the next, Shen Wei’s face goes blank. His skin is smooth like marble, but his eyes are now turbulent as if he’s having some internal struggle. His hand curls into a fist and drops back to his side, and Zhao Yunlan’s breath hitches at the loss of contact. The tiny space between them is suddenly a chasm too wide and too deep.
A twinge of something unclean slithers around Zhao Yunlan’s throat. Shen Wei adores him, worships him even. Zhao Yunlan knows this, but who does Shen Wei see when he looks at him? Who has Shen Wei always seen? Despite the memories and the powers, he isn’t Kunlun in the way a new harddrive with all the data of the old one isn't physically the same. He’s Zhao Yunlan, not some god that Shen Wei has on a pedestal. Those memories are his, but they aren’t him , and for the first time since he met Shen Wei, he doubts.
Has Shen Wei ever loved him, or has he been chasing a shadow of him from days long gone? The weight of the robe is suddenly too much, the light silk suffocating, and Zhao Yunlan wants to rip the garment from his body.
Zhao Yunlan looks up through his lashes and finds immense sadness swimming in Shen Wei’s eyes. It’s the sort of sadness Zhao Yunlan only remembers through the mind of someone else, the sort of pain he can never understand because he’s physically not lived or loved long enough. Shen Wei’s hands tremble despite his tight fists, his knuckles bone-white.
It must hurt to see Zhao Yunlan like this. To see the one person Shen Wei had wanted but couldn’t have. Shen Wei’s memories—the real ones—surface, and Zhao Yunlan sees the face of a young ghost scrunched up in rage and grief and regret, and something loosens in his chest.
No matter what Shen Wei did, no matter how many lies he told and how many people he manipulated, it all led to this moment. Zhao Yunlan is on his knees looking up at the one man who never gave up on him. Who defied the heavens and birthed miracles. Who, in his own twisted, soulless way, had loved him and kept him alive. Kunlun or not, that’s worth something in Zhao Yunlan’s books even if he doesn’t approve of the antics.
And if giving Shen Wei the one thing he never had will ease the suffering in those inky black eyes, what’s a little roleplay? Is it even roleplay if it’s technically him? Zhao Yunlan has done much worse, right? Ignoring the twinge in his heart, Zhao Yunlan shuffles forward and nuzzles Shen Wei’s thigh, his face inches from the tent that’s impressively still there.
“Shen Wei, Xiao Wei,” Zhao Yunlan coos, and he slaps on a well-practiced smile as he looks up the plane of Shen Wei’s body. “I have a request.” He runs his hands up and down Shen Wei’s legs, tugging at the crease of his trousers playfully.
Shen Wei blinks as if coming out of a trance, and when he looks down, Zhao Yunlan’s sure he sees him . “I’m not sure you are in any position to be making requests.” A hint of a smile ghosts Shen Wei’s lips, and his eyes come alive with desire once more.
Zhao Yunlan breathes out a silent sigh of relief. “Tsk.” He slaps Shen Wei’s leg, then leans his cheek against a solid thigh and drags his tongue across his bottom lip, giving it a bite for emphasis. “I deserve a reward for my efforts.”
Shen Wei cocks a brow. “Oh?”
“I’m all limbered up. You can do whatever you want.” And when Shen Wei doesn’t respond, Zhao Yunlan continues, “How about I keep the getup”—he gestures toward himself—”and you let me see your long hair again. But keep everything else. You know how much I love the professor look.” He drops his gaze then, unable to hold onto the smile that’s wavering at the corners of his lips.
Shen Wei always wears a pressed shirt, sleeve garters, and trousers even on his days off. Normally Zhao Yunlan finds it a little ridiculous, but today, he’s thankful for this tether to the present. It takes him a moment to rearrange his face, and when he’s confident his expression won’t betray the resignation he feels in his bones, he looks up once more.
The knot in Shen Wei’s throat bobs and his eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a hurricane coming, and Zhao Yunlan’s sure he’s about to get tossed in it. His mouth dries, and his brain shorts as desire stirs his cock once more even if his joints are already preemptively aching in protest.
Gentle fingers card through Zhao Yunlan’s hair, playing with the long, soft strands with practiced ease. Shen Wei purses his lips as if in consideration, then without warning, hair as black as the heart of chaos and as soft as goose down tumbles down his back. Loose fringes frame his slender face, the inky strands a stark contrast to his pale, smooth skin.
Zhao Yunlan’s heart skips a beat, and it’s a lifetime before he remembers to breathe. Shen Wei is breathtakingly, devastatingly beautiful bathed in the mid-morning sun. His hair flows behind him like a curtain of the finest black silk, rich and gleaming, thick and luscious, and Zhao Yunlan aches to run his fingers through it. Shen Wei looks down at him, eyes half lidded, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and he’s so regal like this. A true king even the gods will bow down to.
“Is this to your liking?” Shen Wei asks, his voice small but strained as if he’s hanging onto the last of his resolve by a thread.
“Fuck yes,” Zhao Yunlan murmurs, and it’s the last thing he has time to think about before Shen Wei yanks off his belt and rips open the front of his trousers.
Zhao Yunlan grabs the waistband of Shen Wei’s pants and underwear and yanks them down his thighs. His cock springs free, and Zhao Yunlan’s mouth waters as he drinks Shen Wei in. His cock, like the rest of him, is a masterpiece, and Shen Wei’s not shy about using it on Zhao Yunlan in all manners of depravity.
That same hand, so gentle just moments ago, now grips the back of Zhao Yunlan’s head with urgency, and Zhao Yunlan barely has time to suck in a breath before the salty, musky taste of Shen Wei fills his mouth. His cock hits the back of Zhao Yunlan’s throat, and Zhao Yunlan gags when the spongy head shoves forward until the coarse curls tickle Zhao Yunlan’s nose.
It’s a snug fit, and Zhao Yunlan’s throat muscles spasm as he struggles to accept the sudden intrusion. Shen Wei doesn’t give him any time to adjust, and when he pulls out, Zhao Yunlan gasps like a man drowning before Shen Wei’s cock slams back in again. Stars swim in the edges of Zhao Yunlan’s vision, and Zhao Yunlan grips Shen Wei’s hips to steady himself. Shen Wei’s fist tightens in his hair, the painful grip keeping his head still as Shen Wei fucks his mouth like a man possessed.
His throat hurts, but it’s a pleasant sort of pain, one he’s grown used to and even fond of since he started sharing his bed with Shen Wei. It’s a declaration of love between them that words cannot convey, that Shen Wei can lose control and Zhao Yunlan is happy to take it.
Zhao Yunlan’s cock throbs, and he reaches under his robe and wraps his hand around it, his fingers immediately slick with pre-come. As someone who strictly topped in the past, he never knew how much being used like this could turn him on. How being at the mercy of someone so powerful can make him so fucking hard.
He strokes his cock in time with Shen Wei’s thrusts, the palm of his hand so slick it’s embarrassing. His jaw aches, his throat is raw, and saliva trickles down the corners of his lips to pool between his spread knees on the yoga mat. His lashes are clumped with moisture, and Shen Wei’s lean figure blurs through the tears welling in his eyes. He’s not a man or a god; he’s a fucking mess, but he’s Shen Wei’s mess, and that’s good enough for him.
Pressure builds at the base of his spine, and with every thrust of Shen Wei’s cock down his throat and every stroke of his own slippery palm, Zhao Yunlan stumbles one step closer to his release. Strong fingers close around Zhao Yunlan’s throat, forcing his head back, and the feral look of untethered pleasure on Shen Wei’s delicate face shoves him tumbling down the abyss.
He chokes on Shen Wei’s cock, his scream coming out garbled as his body spasms. His cock swells in his hand, then white hot pleasure explodes from his center, spreading into every part of him until he’s melting with heat. Ropes of come splash onto the floor, onto the hem of his saintly green robe, but Zhao Yunlan hardly notices as he struggles to keep Shen Wei’s cock between his lips, not wanting to part with it just yet.
But Shen Wei has other ideas. With a low growl that shoots straight to Zhao Yunlan’s spent dick, Shen Wei shoves him off. Zhao Yunlan falls onto his ass, but before he has a chance to find his balance, Shen Wei is on him. Slender fingers that are way stronger than they look rip at Zhao Yunlan’s robes, and the sound of satin and silk tearing echoes in the living room.
Pieces of green fabric scatter around Zhao Yunlan like feathers, and he shivers despite the warmth of the room as Shen Wei rends the robe from his body. Welts bloom across his shoulders and arms and thighs, but that pain is nothing compared to the way Shen Wei is staring at him.
Shen Wei shoves him flat onto the floor, and Zhao Yunlan hisses at the cold against his bare back. That coolness is quickly forgotten when Shen Wei’s lips press tenderly against the head of Zhao Yunlan’s soft cock. He kisses down the underside, flicks his tongue around the base, then nuzzles the length until it’s twitching again with exhausted interest. Zhao Yunlan’s stomach clenches, and every time his cock jumps, it sends painful shocks of electricity through him.
Cruel lips wrap around the head, suck gently, then trace up Zhao Yunlan’s stomach, following the trail of dark hair. Shen Wei’s eyes never leave Zhao Yunlan’s face as he kisses up Zhao Yunlan’s torso, pink tongue darting out to taste salty skin until Shen Wei’s breath tickles Zhao Yunlan’s left nipple.
Without warning, Shen Wei bites down on the sensitive nub, and Zhao Yunlan screams as he arches off the floor.
It fucking hurts, but it fucking hurts so good.
Shen Wei licks the flat of his tongue across the throbbing nub, then takes it back into his mouth, rolling it between his lips then his teeth then soothing the sharp burning pain with a cool flick of his tongue. He toys with Zhao Yunlan like this for an eternity, fingers and mouth plucking him like a well-loved instrument until Zhao Yunlan’s panting with need and painfully hard again.
Shen Wei doesn’t touch him where he desperately wants to be touched, and the drag of his cotton trousers across Zhao Yunlan’s naked erection is just too damn much. Zhao Yunlan tugs at Shen Wei’s arms, at his sleeve garters, at his shoulders and his hair, anything to drag him closer, and he’s two choked sobs away from begging when Shen Wei’s lips press against his in an open-mouthed kiss. Shen Wei’s tongue bullies into Zhao Yunlan’s mouth, his teeth nipping sharply at his lips, and he kisses him like he wants to devour him.
Zhao Yunlan spreads his legs, and Shen Wei slots himself in like that space is made for him. He jams his knees beneath Zhao Yunlan’s hips, pushing Zhao Yunlan’s legs obscenely wide, then grabs his wrists and collects them into one strong hand before pinning them above his head. Shen Wei breaks the kiss and pulls back, and a curtain of smooth locks settles around them like a silken black cocoon.
Shen Wei’s lips are slick and swollen, and there’s a speck of blood in the corner that Zhao Yunlan’s unsure who it belongs to. He strains against the iron grip around his wrists, and when he can’t break free, he tries to lunge off the floor for another kiss. Shen Wei pulls back just out of reach, and his lips curl into another devilish grin.
“What should we do now?” he asks in that mild professorial tone he’s perfected for his students.
Zhao Yunlan growls and bucks, but Shen Wei has his full weight on top of Zhao Yunlan, and for someone with such a trim physique, Shen Wei is ridiculously heavy. “C’mon. You’ve got me where you want me.”
“Do I?” he asks again in that same infuriatingly bland tone, then something flashes across his dark eyes, and Zhao Yunlan’s blood freezes. “Beg me.”
Those are not words uttered by the mild Professor Shen Wei or the righteous Ghost Slayer, but a command from the Ghost King. It’s the chill of his tone and the insanity gleaming in his eyes that remind Zhao Yunlan that this isn’t Shen Wei making love to him , but the Ghost King finally laying claim to the god he has idolized since the day of his creation.
Zhao Yunlan squeezes his eyes shut as pain bursts from his chest into his fingers and toes, and his body goes numb. “What do you want me to say?” he replies, and he’s glad his voice doesn’t betray the shards of glass piercing his heart.
Shen Wei stares down at him for a long, quiet moment, his eyes wild as they search Zhao Yunlan’s face. “Say that you’ll be mine,” Shen Wei whispers, and his voice breaks with the weight of millenia’s worth of hopelessness and want.
Zhao Yunlan’s lungs squeeze, and for a moment, he can’t breathe beneath the weight of all that want and all that sadness. “Shen Wei…”
“Please…” Shen Wei stares into his eyes like he’s searching for answers, except he already has all the answers. He already has Kunlun.
“Make me yours, my beautiful little ghost,” Zhao Yunlan whispers, his voice thick with emotions he’s too afraid to show.
Shen Wei lets go of Zhao Yunlan’s wrists, but Zhao Yunlan stays still as he watches Shen Wei magic a bottle of lube from their bedroom. Shen Wei grips the back of Zhao Yunlan’s left knee and shoves until it meets Zhao Yunlan’s chest. His other leg dangles to the other side of him, the position leaving Zhao Yunlan feeling vulnerable and a little concerned for the integrity of his spine.
With his free hand, Shen Wei drizzles a generous amount of lube over his exposed hole, then tosses the bottle somewhere before smoothing a finger across his slick puckered ring. Shen Wei prepares him with more patience and tenderness than Zhao Yunlan expects or wants, and when he’s once again ready to throw his dignity out the window and beg, Shen Wei pulls out his fingers and strokes his cock with whatever lube remained on his hand.
He looms over Zhao Yunlan, one hand guiding his cock to Zhao Yunlan’s entrance while the other still presses his knee to his chest, and pushes in. The shock of penetration always hits Zhao Yunlan like a bucket of ice water, so cold it burns. The stretch is unpleasant despite Shen Wei’s thorough prepping, and Zhao Yunlan can’t help his choked scream when Shen Wei slams into him.
Zhao Yunlan clenches around Shen Wei’s cock involuntarily, the pain making him dizzy, but that feeling of fullness radiates a soothing, buzzing heat through him until he’s boneless. Shen Wei shifts forward, grabs his other knee and jams it into his chest as well, then leans his weight down until Zhao Yunlan’s folded in half.
His lower back lifts off the floor, and when Shen Wei pulls out and slams back in again, his cock brushes against that sweet spot inside him. Zhao Yunlan sees stars for the second time today, and his body jerks as his hips chase that sensation. “Shen Wei...again, fuck, please.”
Shen Wei doesn’t say anything, just pulls back and thrusts forward again with savage precision. Light explodes behind Zhao Yunlan’s eyelids, and he’s sure his shout would have woken the dead if Shen Wei hadn’t warded the apartment. Shen Wei drops forward and hooks his arms under Zhao Yunlan’s knees, then reaches for Zhao Yunlan’s wrists and pins them to either side of his head, turning him into the perfect human pretzel.
Zhao Yunlan would be a little indignant if the angle of Shen Wei’s cock wasn’t literally blowing his mind.
A waterfall of jet black hair tangles with Zhao Yunlan’s on the floor. The next time Shen Wei pulls out, he murmurs, “Mine. All mine.”
“All yours, little ghost.”
Shen Wei growls and slams back into him, and Zhao Yunlan’s sure every bone in his body rattled at the impact. Shen Wei sets a punishing pace, and with every thrust, he pushes down harder until Zhao Yunlan’s knees are touching the floor by his ears and his hips feel like they’re about to pop from their sockets, but he forgets about all that when Shen Wei’s mouth covers his, when Shen Wei swallows his moans as he ravishes his body like he owns it.
Zhao Yunlan can’t move, can’t do a single thing other than take whatever Shen Wei gives him. His cock, already rock hard again, rubs against the soft silk of Shen Wei’s dress shirt, and it’s only then that he realizes Shen Wei is still fully dressed. The image of him on his back, spread open and naked, and Shen Wei’s lithe body looming over him, thrusting into him while dressed in the same clothes he’d wear to teach a class makes Zhao Yunlan shudder and burn with the lewdness of it all.
As if sensing this rare moment where Zhao Yunlan actually finds something to blush about, Shen Wei rears up, and Zhao Yunlan’s legs flop down from the sudden loss of pressure. Shen Wei’s lust-blown eyes rake down Zhao Yunlan’s torso, and Zhao Yunlan can’t help but squirm under the scrutiny. His gaze stops at Zhao Yunlan’s swaying erection, and he wraps his elegant fingers around it in a tight grip.
“Come undone for me, Yunlan,” Shen Wei says between laboured breaths, his hand stroking Zhao Yunlan’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Show me what’s mine.”
Zhao Yunlan freezes, and it takes his sex-addled brain a moment to parce the words.
Yunlan, not Kunlun.
Zhao Yunlan loses himself in the heat of Shen Wei’s palm, in the hardness of his cock, and in the sweet sound of his voice as he mutters, “Yunlan, Yunlan, Yunlan” like a mantra. When his second orgasm hits, it spreads from low in his belly until his whole body is alight with pleasure. It rolls through him in persistent waves, not explosive like the last time, but something that will persevere through every lifetime.
His hole clenches painfully around Shen Wei’s cock, and a strangled moan is all the warning he gets before Shen Wei’s release coats his insides. He collapses on top of Zhao Yunlan, his silk shirt crumpled and come-stained and one of his sleeve garters has slid down to his elbow.
Zhao Yunlan lays in a pile of limbs and long tangles of hair, and despite the ache in his hips and the twinge in the small of his back, he’s content. He strokes Shen Wei’s hair, enjoying the cool slide of the soft, long strands between his fingers, and it’s another quiet moment before Shen Wei stirs. He sits up, brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, and looks down at Zhao Yunlan. His eyes are bright with something Zhao Yunlan has never seen before, and he smiles.
“Are you all right?” Shen Wei asks as he brushes a curl of hair from Zhao Yunlan’s sweaty forehead.
Zhao Yunlan rolls his eyes. “You need to stop asking that every time we have sex.” Shen Wei’s cheeks colour, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, something mischievous flashes behind his eyes, and Zhao Yunlan narrows his like a self-defense mechanism. “What?”
Shen Wei flips Zhao Yunlan onto his stomach, then slides a hand under his hips and yanks his ass into the air. “If you’re feeling all right, then we can start round two.”
“Round two?” Zhao Yunlan squawks. He tries to crawl away, but his hand slips on some scraps of green silk and he faceplants with a pained grunt.
“Yes, we’ll have to go through every yoga pose you did this morning and put them to the test.” Shen Wei’s grip around his hips tightens and yanks him back. “We can break for a late lunch after downward dog, if you’d like.”
A black blur jumps out from behind the couch, and Da Qing yowls, “Um, can I go now?”
Shit. Zhao Yunlan forgot that Da Qing is still in the apartment and just witnessed that and he’s still locked in with them and...
Shen Wei glances down at Da Qing. “No.”
“I really don’t want to be here for any more of this,” Da Qing pleads.
“You should have thought about that before you helped him with his salacious seduction plans,” Shen Wei replies mildly, as if he’s talking to a student about an assignment.
“I—that was—” Da Qing’s eyes bulge from his fat head and he swipes a paw across his face. “We were just doing yoga!”
“Maybe you were.” Shen Wei turns his attention back to Zhao Yunlan, a knowing glint in his eyes. “He wasn’t.”
Zhao Yunlan collapses on the yoga mat and groans. He can’t even deny it.