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He’d gone and done it again.
Xiao Chiye’s poor heart could only take so much of his wife’s self-sacrificing antics before it gave out on him. He’d thought his emasculating of Shen Zechuan in the bathtub thorough enough a punishment to thwart any more reckless behaviour—But oh, how wrong he’d been.
Watching his beloved throw himself in the way of a blade meant for Xiao Chiye was something far more terrifying than the second wolf of Libei could handle. He’d seen only flashes of light and metal as his stomach dropped hard enough to make him lightheaded. It was only a split second—but to Xiao Chiye, it felt like time had stopped.
Shen Zechuan had only gotten a shallow cut to his forearm in the struggle, removing the head of their assailant in one fell swoop; but Xiao Chiye was vexed nonetheless. He’d been cold and silent on their way back from the battlefield, the pain of his own bruises and scrapes paling in comparison to the sharp ache in his heart. His Lanzhou had once again almost been taken from him, and the man in question treated the incident with such dismissal, like his life—and therefore Xiao Chiye’s heart—was hardly a matter of concern!
Practically dragging Shen Zechuan to their room may have been brash, but Xiao Chiye was not in the mood to be gentle with him. Evidently, coddling him only brought about more trouble.
“Ce’an, I—”
Shen Zechuan has no chance to get a word in before he’s pushed prone onto the bed, his clothes torn gracelessly from his body. An attempt at rising to his elbows is quickly usurped by a rough hand shoving his head right back down into the sheets.
“Mmfph—!” He turns his face to breathe, kicking his feet out and digging his heel into Xiao Chiye’s thigh. Xiao Chiye simply sneers in delight as he pins him down effortlessly; his wife may be swifter and craftier than he, but Xiao Chiye would always dominate him in brute strength.
“Clearly, my wife needs to be taught another lesson, since I didn’t manage to drill it into his head the last time”.
Tying him down is just as easy a feat. In little time at all, Shen Zechuan’s thin wrists are bound behind his back with the belt of his own robe, white silk digging into his delicate flesh and leaving his pale skin reddened. His halfhearted struggling dwindles when Xiao Chiye licks a thumb and strokes it over his hole, trailing it down to press teasingly on his taint, dull pleasure igniting in his stomach.
“My Lanzhou wrongs me so,” Xiao Chiye huffs, feigning hurt. “How am I to keep on living if my wife throws his life away so carelessly?”
Shen Zechuan turns his face into the sheets as oil is drizzled between his cheeks, a slick finger pushing inside without preamble.
Xiao Chiye’s fingers are near clinical in their effort, deliberately avoiding his prostate as they stretch him wide enough to take another. Shen Zechuan whines, bracing his knees beneath him to rock back onto Xiao Chiye’s fingers, growing desperate to feel that familiar scalding pleasure coil up his spine.
It isn’t until Xiao Chiye is four fingers deep inside him, working on a fifth, that Shen Zechuan remembers this is a punishment, and really begins to sense something is amiss. His husband, though careful never to truly hurt him, is anything but selfless in bed; rarely is he patient enough to prepare Shen Zechuan beyond what is strictly necessary before splitting him open on his cock. The thought of him having the patience to diligently loosen him fully before rutting into him like a feral animal, especially under the current circumstances, is downright laughable.
When Xiao Chiye works a fifth and final finger in, he panics. Sweat beads on his face, tasting salt on his lips.
“W-wait, Ce’an—” he pleads, his brittle voice breaking as Xiao Chiye twists his fingers inside, pushing against the resistance.
His mouth opens in a silent scream as the widest part of Xiao Chiye’s knuckles push past his rim, stretching him wider than he’d ever been. The edges of his vision grow fuzzy, ears ringing with the high-pitched tinkling of faraway bells.
His soul returns to his body as the last of Xiao Chiye’s hand forces its way inside, but the relief is minimal. He feels cold oil pour over his rim where it stretches, red and taut, around Xiao Chiye’s wrist, and clenches instinctively.
“Ah-ah. Relax, don’t strain,” Xiao Chiye coaxed gently, stroking his free hand soothingly across Shen Zechuan’s back. The pressure inside of him is unimaginable—when the hand inside of him pushes deeper and twists, he feels winded. It draws out of him and pushes back in in increments, slowly working him open and pliant enough for Xiao Chiye to properly fuck his slick fist in and out. The pain of the stretch begins to mold itself into pleasure, the valleys of his knuckles pressing and dragging against Shen Zechuan’s prostate, dragging the edges of his rim out with them as they slowly piston inside of him.
Shen Zechuan cannot even attempt to hide the hoarse moans and cries that spill unbidden from his lips. There is no way for him to escape the overwhelming sensations, bound and helpless as he is. It’s all he can do to bury his face in the pillow and bite it, wetting it with spit and tears.
“Ce’an, please—” he calls, face hot with indignity and mortification and arousal, his neglected little cock weeping pitifully against the sheets. “Please, A-Ye, I won't—I won’t do it again, I swear it, have mercy” he babbles, but his pleas for reprieve only serve to make Xiao Chiye even more ravenous.
“Does Lanzhou want mercy? What mercy has he shown me and my fragile heart?” he purrs dangerously, pressing cruel fingers right into Shen Zechuan’s sweet spot, making him wail. Xiao Chiye grins. “How dutiful have I been to correct my wife’s mistakes? Call me A-die, and maybe then I'll give you my cock.”
Shen Zechuan groans into the pillow. “H-Heartless—cad!”
“Lanzhou is certainly one to talk,” Xiao Chiye chuckles, leaning down over him to coo at his ear. “What should you call me when I discipline you like this?”
Shen Zechuan sobs.
“Lanzhou, my sweet Lanzhou. What should you call me?”
Defeated, Shen Zechuan can hardly form the words through his wrecked sobs.
“A-die”
Xiao Chiye growls. “That’s my boy”.
He pulls his hand out with an obscene, wet sound. He pauses a moment to stare at the way Shen Zechuan’s abused hole gapes and twitches, his mouth practically watering, before stuffing it with his swollen cock.
He immediately sets to fucking him hard and fast, groaning as he chases his pleasure. Shen Zechuan moans in relief, turning to putty in Xiao Chiye’s embrace. He cries out as Xiao Chiye yanks him upright by the hair, his bound arms pressed between them as Xiao Chiye spears him on his cock, the angle forcing him to hit Shen Zechuan’s prostate head-on with every thrust. With an exhausted sob, he cums untouched, Xiao Chiye following close behind with a raspy cry of his own.
Shen Zechuan lays sprawled on the bed, fucked out and bone-weary as Xiao Chiye fetches him a cup of water, refusing to lift his head.
“Learned your lesson?” Xiao Chiye laughs as he hands him the cup.
Shen Zechuan only turns his head to glare. “Evil man,” he spits, his voice hoarse. “Hold me.”
Xiao Chiye only chuckles again, gathering him into his arms and stroking his hair as he lulls him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.