Work Text:
Neon lights reflect in the dirty water that gathers at the edges of the street. Yueyeng City is mostly empty this late at night, at least in this neighborhood; there's nothing out here that's worth it for regular people to run into the nocturnal elements out here. But just under the surface, if someone knows how to look, there's a buzzing pulse of life.
A masked man materializes out of the shadows. He's tall and slender, all shades of black and grey blurring together. A cat slinks towards him, twining between his legs before flouncing off; a small twitch at the corner of his eyes is the only giveaway that he even notices. Then he turns his head slightly, catching a sound on the wind, before he melts back into the darkness.
His feet fly over the cracked payment, whisper quiet. Adrenaline sings through Zhou Zishu's veins. The last six months of cat-and-mouse have finally led him to this night, this city block, with his quarry so close he can practically taste him. The Ghost Valley leader Wen Kexing has eluded him for months, but Zhou Zishu will finally pin him down tonight.
The trail leads him to an abandoned office building on the edge or town. The walls loom up around him, all concrete and broken glass. Zhou Zishu knows he shouldn't go in like this. Every ounce of his training screams to wait, retreat, send a request for backup; death traps like this have killed better agents than him. But - he's so fucking close . Hand on the hilt of his sword, he slips through a busted out window and disappears.
There are signs of recent activity scattered everywhere. Footsteps dance through the accumulated dust, leaving deep and fresh impressions in the debris. The farther Zhou Zishu delves into the building, the more he suspects that it's purposeful: splatters of half-dried spray paint, doors propped open, and trailing lines along the walls as though someone has dragged their fingertips along every surface they've passed. Wen Kexing's practically left a neon sign saying "come and get me", and Zhou Zishu is fool enough to follow.
He arrives in the middle of the maze that's been laid out for him, a large mostly empty room with a single large window along one wall. A few lights are on here when every other room has been plunged into darkness. Overturned desks and filing cabinets sit at odd angles around the room, but what catches his attention isn't the furniture - it's the words that have been scored into the wall in front of him.
FOUND YOU
The letters spider out over most of the cracked drywall. Breathlessly, Zhou Zishu steps towards it, his hand reaching out to ghost over the writing. The faint scent of ozone clings to the words, but the thrill that spreads through his gut has nothing to do with the lingering electricity in the air.
Maybe Zhou Zishu's hunt for Wen Kexing has been motivated by more than duty. Their long distance push and pull drives him in a way nothing has in years. Hints of the mind that controls the Ghost Valley have teased him since he was sent here to Jiangnan to investigate, leaving him both frustrated and stimulated in turns. All his years of training and experience still leave him unprepared for this moment.
It's that very experience that has him turning to the side on instinct, barely avoiding the bladed fan that cuts past his throat to embed itself in the wall. He flips back across the room and spins to face his attacker, who saunters over to retrieve his fan. With a start he realizes that the mask covering his lower face starts to fall away - he'd actually managed to cut the fabric.
The man standing across the room to shoot a wolfish grin at him - well, he's not exactly what Zhou Zishu expected after all the stories. A bright red coat clings to his chest, loose pants tucked into boots that make his already long legs even more eye-catching. He carries a second fan but no other weapons. While he certainly gives off a dangerous aura, Wen Kexing doesn't look like someone who has supposedly slaughtered his way to the top of a hoard of monsters. His long black hair falls freely down his back, and his bright eyes are painted in crimson. But mostly, he's young - maybe even younger than Zhou Zishu himself.
"So sorry," he purrs, "I just had to get you to turn around to see if your face was as beautiful as your shoulder blades."
It takes Zhou Zishu a moment to process what he said. He's torn between rolling his eyes and fighting back a blush. Instead, he pulls away the rest of the now-ruined mask and lets it drift to the ground. "And?" he asks expectantly. "Is it pretty enough for you?"
Wen Kexing's eyes rake up and down his entire body before he replies, "It's perfect." He starts to take a step forward, but Zhou Zishu pulls his sword from around his waist in a flash and holds it between them. Wen Kexing stills, raising his hands as his mouth slides into a smirk. “There’s really no reason to wave that around. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d clearly already have done that.” He makes eye contact with Zhou Zishu and refuses to look away. “I just wanted to meet the only person who’s actually made me try in ages.”
Zhou Zishu is quickly losing the thread on this confrontation. “What do you want? You obviously knew I was here, so stop wasting my time. Why’d you let me find you?”
“I don’t think finally getting a look at you counts as wasted time,” Wen Kexing replies as his eyes travel up and down his body again. He starts lazily spinning the fan he’s just plucked out of the wall.
A shiver runs through Zhou Zishu’s body - what is wrong with the guy - but a nearby tremor throws him off. A bright flash of flames comes through the window. Zhou Zishu turns towards the only window in the room to see smoke rising from several blocks away. Down on the street, a large truck suddenly pulls away from the burning building.
Shit .
He turns to run towards the exit, but a fan strikes out and forces him to stop and duck. By the time he regains his footing, Wen Kexing is on him, driving him back from the doorway. He dances backwards, eyes not leaving the other man.
“Get out of my way,” he growls.
Wen Kexing clicks his tongue at him. “Sorry, sweet thing, I can’t let you go quite yet,” he say and moves to block the exit.
“You really lured me here just to give your crew a chance to get away?” he spits back. “Pretty fuckin’ heartwarming for someone stealing from a biotech company. What are you doing, selling to the highest bidder? Or just looking to cause some chaos?”
Some of the humor drains from Wen Kexing’s face; the smile no longer reaches his eyes, leaving behind an expression much more shark-like. “You’re so convinced that you know the story here. But this isn’t the capital. You don’t get to just hand out what you think justice is.”
Zhou Zishu lets out a bitter laugh. “And who’s qualified to do that? You?” As Wen Kexing’s face shifts into something a little darker, a little uglier, Zhou Zishu lunges forward to attack.
The strength that answers his strike makes his bones ache. Wen Kexing fights with both fans, parrying his blade with deadly speed. Their back and forth dance grows increasingly tense, alive as they both discover that their partner can keep up . Zhou Zishu hasn’t found himself on the defensive this much - or at all - in years. But rather than fear, he realizes that it’s a fierce joy spreading through his veins. He knows he should be going in for the kill, looking for the opening that’ll give him the advantage, but Zhou Zishu thinks that maybe he’s having fun for the first time in years-
That’s when the mistake happens. He’s so caught up in playing that he goes for the easy strike, managing to flip one of Wen Kexing’s fans out of his hand and out of reach. But before he can even laugh, some kind of surge of electricity runs up his arm, numbing it completely for a moment. His hand spasms and involuntarily drops the sword; Wen Kexing has the other fan under his chin in an instant. His momentum causes them both to fall, Zhou Zishu’s back crashing into drywall behind him. One of his hands shoots out to grab for Wen Kexing’s throat, but the taller man snatches his wrist out of the air and pins it behind his head. Zhou Zishu can feel the energy sparking at the base of his neck without actually hurting him - is the fan what shocked his arm? - but he doesn’t have any more time to ponder it as he finds himself completely pinned.
Zhou Zishu lifts one foot to kick off the wall, trying to turn and get some momentum, but the grip on his wrist is too strong. All he’s able to do is get his back to Wen Kexing before he’s shoved against the cracked wall again. Wen Kexing crowds in to hold him there; he hears the other fan clatter to the floor nearby as he abandons it to grab his other hand, bringing them together above his head. This - well, it’s definitely not what Zhou Zishu had meant to do. Their bodies are pressed together back to chest in one long firm line, Wen Kexing’s chin tucked into his shoulder, his breath skating over his neck. He’s not used to anyone being able to cage him in like this; Wen Kexing is clearly stronger than he appears. But more than that… Zhou Zishu is starting to feel more and more that he likes it.
Despite the fact that he’s entirely at Wen Kexing’s mercy, he knows bone-deep that the other man has no intention of hurting him. At least not seriously . This conviction is completely illogical, but for once he doesn’t care. He’s felt more alive in the past five minutes, the past six months, then he has since his cousin pressed him into joining the Window of Heaven. And unless he’s completely mistaken, the panting against his ear is beginning to grow more erratic - not to say anything of his own rapidly growing interest.
Experimentally, Zhou Zishu pushes his hips back, grinding against Wen Kexing. The hands covering his own clench down. Wen Kexing presses forward again, searching for more friction. There’s a moment where they’re caught in stasis just like that, neither of them willing to give an inch. Then a hot tongue licks a stripe up the side of Zhou Zishu’s neck, curling around the shell of his ear. He doesn’t lack experience, but - well, it’s been a long several years. He’s already painfully hard in his fighting leathers, and this nearly pushes him over the edge. It’s only with massive effort that he holds himself back, biting his lip to hold in a moan.
Wen Kexing must notice anyway. His lips press against the back of his neck for a moment, then pull back. Zhou Zishu swears he can practically hear the shit-eating grin that’s surely plastered along his face. “Who would have thought that Zhou Zishu would be so easy. "
Desire and irritation swirl together deliciously at his words. Well, he can play this game too. All at once he lets his body to lax, dropping his head back onto Wen Kexing's shoulder and forcing him to hold his weight. There's a moment where he just folds into the solid body behind him; Zhou Zishu is heady with the sensation of being held. Then Wen Kexing's iron grip relaxes as he buries his face in Zhou Zishu's hair and breathes inthe scent like a drowning man. It's the opening he's been waiting for.
Zhou Zishu hooks a foot around Wen Kexing's leg. There's a twist and suddenly they're on the floor, Wen Kexing panting up at him with red-rimmed eyes. His hands have Zhou Zishu's hips in a death grip even as Zhou Zishu brings a hidden knife up to his throat. He tips his chin back with the edge of the blade, and Wen Kexing moans.
"You gonna devour me, Zishu?" he asks, all bared neck.
Wen Kexing must be insane.
Zhou Zishu thinks he wants to taste his throat.
He drops the knife and dives in, mouth on the other man's skin like he's dying for it. And maybe he is - the litany of curses and oh gods that spill from Wen Kexing feed something primal inside of him that he'd forgotten. He tastes like salt and smoke, and Zhou Zishu remembers how to want. Deep red bite marks bloom along Wen Kexing's throat as Zhou Zishu works his way down to his shoulder. Wen Kexing's fingers dig almost painfully into his hips, even through the leather, but the ache is sublime. Distantly, he hopes it leaves bruises to look at tomorrow.
"A-Xu A-Xu A-Xu, fuck…" Wen Kexing babbles incoherently as Zhou Zishu's teeth work over his skin. When he pulls back for a second, the man below actually whines .
He blinks down at him before rolling his eyes. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he muses before pulling open Wen Kexing's jacket to get at all the skin bared there.
Wen Kexing laughs. "Actually no, I-" But he's cut off as Zhou Zishu shoves two fingers into his mouth. All Wen Kexing can do is moan theatrically before he begins to suck .
Zhou Zishu thought this would buy him a minute of peace before that mouth gave him trouble. He’s miscalculated.
He immediately tries to take his fingers back, but Wen Kexing grabs his wrist to hold him there. The heat in his gut turns into a blaze. The tongue that wraps around his fingers drags a ragged moan out of him. Most infuriatingly, Wen Kexing maintains eye contact the entire time, pinning his soul in place.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, ” Zhou Zishu whispers, caught in that gaze.
The bastard underneath him smiles around his fingers. He lightly bites at his fingertips, then pulls them out of his mouth with a faint wet pop. “Next time, I promise. But I want you in a bed for that.” Then large hands reach up, cupping his jaw and finally, finally bringing their mouths together.
And god it’s good, it’s so good . Lips and tongues slide together like magnets. They’ve just met, this should be awkward, but they’re like two halves drawn in by gravity to snap together, hands and mouths tangling into a black hole. Zhou Zishu is a live wire from head to toe; every touch feels like a heart attack. His hips dig down into the body below him, eager for the friction and warmth. Wen Kexing thrusts back, neither of them caring that they’re rutting like while animals anymore.
Suddenly Wen Kexing pulls back just an inch, head rolling backwards as his rhythm starts to fall apart. His eyes flutter shut and those cherry red lips fall open, wide and wet. Mild insanity is the only excuse for what Zhou Zishu does next; on instinct he shoves his wrist in that mouth, and as Wen Kexing’s eyes fly open in shock, savagely urges him, “ Bite.” Wen Kexing, helpless, gasps out in a soundless cry, shuddering beneath Zhou Zishu even as teeth pierce skin.
If he’s honest with himself, it’s the hottest thing that Zhou Zishu has ever witnessed. Even after his hips stop jerking, Wen Kexing continues to lap at the small puncture wounds on his wrist, gaze still locked onto Zhou Zishu who merely raises an eyebrow.
“Looks like you lost, little ghost master,” he taunts as he pulls his wrist back.
It’s perhaps the wrong - or very right - thing to say, because Wen Kexing’s eyes suddenly blaze with determination. Before Zhou Zishu can react, he kicks out a leg and rolls them over, uncaring of the debris on the floor. Wen Kexing’s hand catches against his leather waistband, fumbling with the buttons there. Zhou Zishu can’t breathe .
There’s a pause, then words hurriedly spoken into his ear. “If you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll stop, I promise. But if you do - if you want…” Words have completely abandoned him at this point, but Zhou Zishu nods frantically. Wen Kexing’s answering smile would blind angels. Then he reaches down and takes Zhou Zishu in hand, and everything goes white.
When he spills over, it's with Wen Kexing’s breath in his own lungs, crying out a name he’s only been able to put a face to this night.
Moments or perhaps hours later, Wen Kexing rolls off to the side. He leaves one leg flung over Zhou Zishu even as he reaches down to tuck him back into his pants.
“The leather is incredibly hot, don’t get me wrong, but god it’s inconvenient,” he whines. He scowls at his currently filthy hand; but then he reaches up and wipes it off on Zhou Zishu’s fully-clothed torso.
He pushes him away. “You asshole.” But there’s no heat behind it, the way it’s spoken with a wide grin. Wen Kexing has the audacity to giggle which should piss him off, but he just finds himself dissolving into laughter along with him. They’re a mess, Wen Kexing’s long hair stuck to both of their sweaty skin. Zhou Zishu finally sighs. “What now?”
Wen Kexing stills, throwing a glance towards the window. “They’re long gone by now. I supposed I should get back, let them know I’m alive. And was very successful.” He sighs then as he very obviously looks Zhou Zishu up and down. “I’m going to do something against my better judgement,” he continues, shuffling to his feet and reaching down.
Zhou Zishu rolls his eyes even as he accepts the offered hand. “Your better judgement shriveled up and died years ago.” Wen Kexing runs his unsoiled fingers through Zhou Zishu’s completely undone hair, who shockingly lets him. Then he curls his long fingers around the wrist that’s slowly dripping blood, staring at it in a daze, fingers skating across it. After a moment Wen Kexing reaches into an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a bright red handkerchief. He ties it snugly but not in danger of cutting off the circulation, speaking to more than passing experience with battlefield medicine, then takes Zhou Zishu’s hand and presses something small and metallic into it.
Warm lips brush against Zhou Zishu’s ear. “Come and find me soon, when you’re ready,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to the back of that hand, and then turns to go. He makes it to the doorway, where he pauses and turns. The look in his eyes hits Zhou Zishu like a sledgehammer, all sincerity and raw want. “ Soon .” And then Wen Kexing’s gone, less than a shadow in the hallway.
When the staccato of his heart slows down, Zhou Zishu looks down at the object in his still-burning hand. He’s shocked as he recognizes what it is: it’s a key token, the same kind they use for most high security buildings. A key token that contains an address and a microchip that will let him in - Wen Kexing has just handed him the keys to his kingdom.