Archive of Our Own

The afternoon sun filters through the window of the room Sizhui and Jingyi share, bathing the small room in soft gold. They’re old enough now that given their position in the sect, they could have requested their own rooms, but they prefer it this way.

The sun falls across Jingyi’s bed, and he’s sprawled out in what is neither a proper sitting nor lying position, lingering in the sun rather like a cat, and holding the scroll he’s supposed to be reading in the air.  

He looks across the room at Sizhui, who from his angle appears to be upside down.  Sizhui, unsurprisingly, is sitting in a proper Lan sitting position, with his guqin on the table in front of him, slowly working through a piece of music that Jingyi doesn’t recognize.  Something complex.

The soft sound of the guqin filling the room is calming and familiar to Jingyi after all these years.  

“I meant to tell you that you probably want to avoid studying in the library for a few days,” Jingyi says into the hush.

“Mn?” Sizhui says, fingers still carefully picking out the melody.  “Why?”

“A group of guest disciples got caught with contraband materials for the second time.  Lan-Laoshi was furious; he’s even making them do handstands this time.  They’re going to be in there forever.”

Jingyi knows that Sizhui likes to study in the library, but he dislikes when the deep silence and calm of it is disturbed by disciples who don’t know any better.

“Must have upset him then,” Sizhui says, voice calm.  “What contraband did they have?”

“The usual,” Jingyi says with a dismissive wave.  “Alcohol, porn, whatever.”

“Hmm,” Sizhui says, probably trying to figure out what had caused Lan-Laoshi to lose his temper.

“I don’t get it,” Jingyi says.  “Every year, multiple times a year even, the same thing happens.  It’s such a stupid thing to get in trouble for.”

“They’d probably say that running or running your mouth are stupid things to get in trouble for,” Sizhui points out.

Jingyi makes a face at him, but he’s not looking.

“Those two punishments don’t even compare.  Besides, I could probably finish the whole set of rules before they managed to do the first volume, handstands and all.”

“I’ll remember that next time you are stuck in the library and ask for my help.”  He can hear the small smile in Sizhui’s voice and see the faint upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s just mean,” Jingyi complains.

Sizhui just smiles without looking away from the music and his guqin.

“But really,” Jingyi says, more interested now in this conversation than the readings he’d been assigned, “you don’t think it’s stupid?”

Sizhui gives a tiny shrug and then finally glances at Jingyi.

“Have you ever even looked at the books?” Sizhui asks. 

“Why would I? I don’t particularly want to see it, let alone risk Lan-Laoshi’s wrath over it.  It’s just drawings of random people having sex, eugh.”

“Jingyi,” Sizhui says sounding amused, “did you just describe sex as ‘eugh’”

“I meant the porn, but yes? I guess?”  Jingyi shrugs, but it’s rather ineffectual since he’s lying on his back.

“Jingyi, we have had sex, and I’m pretty sure ‘eugh’ was not your reaction.”

“That’s different.”

It’s so incredibly different that the two things are almost irreconcilable.  There is so much to experience of loving Sizhui: the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the feeling of being at the center of his attention, the intimacy of it…  The flat art cannot contain that, and instead, it focuses on explicit details meant to evoke arousal in a way that Jingyi has never quite understood.  He doesn’t understand why exactly he’s supposed to be attracted to random people the way he is to Sizhui.  While Sizhui, for his own part, hasn’t quite grasped that Jingyi’s interest in sex more or less begins and ends with his involvement.

“If you say so,” Sizhui says, attention back on his guqin.

“I do.”

Sizhui nods in acceptance, but he doesn’t respond otherwise.  Jingyi sighs and turns his attention back to the scroll in his hand, but he only gets a few lines in before something hits him, and he almost drops the book on his face.

“Sizhui!” he says, craning his head backward to look at his partner.  “You’ve read some of the porn books you’ve confiscated haven’t you?”

Sizhui’s hands pause over the guqin strings for only a moment, but Jingyi’s trained ear easily catches the break.

“Sizhui!” Jingyi says tossing his readings aside and somersaulting off the bed to stand and look directly at Sizhui.  “You have! Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Sizhui says, and there’s a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

For a long moment, Jingyi just stares at Sizhui, processing.  Jingyi knows that there is more to Sizhui than most people see.  He knows the side of him that is bright and untamed.  The version of him with a sharp tongue and mischief in his eye; the version of him who follows Jingyi into trouble. He is learning the side of him that is passionate and burning.  The version of him that exists in Jingyi’s arms, in the touch of bare skin and the press of lips.

So maybe this revelation shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, but he’s still Sizhui. He still follows all the rules even when there’s no one watching.  The idea of him with contraband materials is decidedly dissonant.

Jingyi narrows his eyes at Sizhui, taking in the blush on his cheeks and the slightest hunch to his shoulders.  A second realization washes over him, and he starts across the room to Sizhui’s side before he has time to think about it.

He’s shared a space with Sizhui long enough to know where he hides things, and he is hiding things.

“What are you doing?” Sizhui asks, and the room goes abruptly silent as he stops playing the guqin.

“You have some here,” Jingyi says, not bothering to look over at Sizhui.

“I-” Sizhui says and stops, giving Jingyi all the confirmation he needs.  

“Are you going through my things?” Sizhui asks somewhat sharply as Jingyi passes his desk.

“Yes,” Jingyi says, glancing over his shoulder.  “Are you going to stop me?”

“Five seconds ago you said you aren’t interested in these books!” 

Sizhui starts to get to his feet but pauses, kneeling.

“This is different,” Jingyi says, determining that Sizhui is not going to get up and try to stop him.  

“How?” Sizhui asks, face growing more pink.  “You said you weren’t interested in random people. I can confirm the art is of random people.”

“I’m not interested in seeing the porn per se,” Jingyi says.  “I am interested in seeing what you are interested in.”

Jingyi glances at Sizhui.  His face is flushed up to his ears with embarrassment, but there is no genuine distress on his face.  

“You could have asked me!” 

“Would you have told me the truth?”

“If you asked nicely!”

“Well, tell me then,” Jingyi says, dropping down on Sizhui’s bed and reaching behind and under it.  He passes over several things, momentos from Sizhui’s past like the grass butterfly from Tanzhou and a much older one given to him by Senior Wen.  

“I-” Sizhui stalls and sputters for a minute. Then he sighs,  “Oh what’s the point?” 

Triumphant, Jingyi sits up with a pair of small books held in one hand and a small jar in the other.  He glances at Sizhui, who is still at his desk but has put his hands over his face. 

“Sizhui,” Jingyi says in a singsong voice.  “Come here.”

“No.” His voice is slightly muffled by his hands.

“Fine,” Jingyi says and walks over to him.  He drops the books unceremoniously on the desk next to the guqin and settles onto his knees behind Sizhui.

He wraps his arms around Sizhui’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. 

“I hate you,” Sizhui says, but there’s no bite.

“No, you don’t,” Jingyi says, smiling and squeezing Sizhui tighter.  He can feel some of the tension starting to ease out of his muscles.

“A little bit?”

“Nope.”

Jingyi kisses the spot behind Sizhui’s ear.  He reaches up and puts his hands over Sizhui’s gently trying to pull them away from his face.

“Why are you so embarrassed, A-Yuan?” He says gently, “it’s just me.  There’s nothing you have to hide from me.”

“I know,” Sizhui says, letting Jingyi pull his hands down. 

“There you are,” Jingyi says, kissing the burning skin of Sizhui’s cheek.  

Sizhui turns his head so their lips meet, and Jingyi smiles into the kiss, lingering until Sizhui pulls away.

“You know,” Jingyi says, “if you really don’t want me to, I won’t look.”

“Mn, I know. It’s fine, it’s just…” he makes a vague hand gesture, and Jingyi smiles.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, pulling Sizhui back against him.  

While Sizhui is confident in what he wants and in his actions, he is easily flustered when forced to talk about it.  There’s no hesitation in his touches, and he doesn’t pause when they topple into bed together, but just hearing the word porn is enough to make him blush.

Sizhui relaxes into Jingyi’s embrace, turning slightly, and Jingyi leans in to kiss him.  Sizhui’s lips part in a soft sigh, and Jingyi leans in closer, deepening the kiss, tasting the white tea that lingers on Sizhui’s lips and in his mouth.  The kiss is soft and slow, and Jingyi can feel the tension from the lingering embarrassment going out of Sizhui’s muscles.

Jingyi tightens his arm around Sizhui’s waist, pulling him closer, and Sizhui twists, turning his shoulders more towards Jingyi.  With a smile, Jingyi pulls away.

“How’s your neck?” he asks.

Sizhui pouts at him, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck.  “Not exactly the most comfortable kiss ever.”

“Well,” Jingyi says, pulling on Sizhui’s hip to turn him towards Jingyi.  “I tried to get you to come to the bed.”

“I’m supposed to be studying,” Sizhui says, but he lets Jingyi turn him further around.  

“So am I,” Jingyi says with a smirk.

“That makes things worse, Jingyi, not better,” Sizhui says, but his expression is amused.

“Shhh,” Jingyi says, leaning in and kissing him again.  For several heartbeats, Sizhui kisses him back, and then he pulls away again.

“Really, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Sizhui says.

Jingyi knows from experience, though, that it’s a token protest made because Sizhui feels like he has to rather than a real objection.  He recognizes the expression in Sizhui’s eyes, and it’s not even the one where he’s just waiting to be convinced, it’s the one where he’s already convinced.

“We don’t have anywhere to be,” Jingyi says, cupping Sizhui’s hand in his face and leaning in for another kiss.  “Not today.”

“That’s not the point,” Sizhui says, but the words turn into a sigh when Jingyi’s lips brush against his.

“Hush, A-Yuan,” Jingyi says.

“But-”

Jingyi doesn’t let him finish, capturing his lips and sliding his tongue into Sizhui’s mouth.  He kisses Sizhui until his response goes from slightly surprised to eager, and then he pulls back.  Sizhui looks at him with wide faintly surprised eyes.

“If you really would rather be studying,” Jingyi says, letting his arm fall from around Sizhui’s waist and starting to pull away.

Sizhui makes a noise of protest, leaning into the space that Jingyi had vacated, and Jingyi grins.

“That’s what I thought,” Jingyi says, unable to stop the smirk on his lips.  

He gathers Sizhui in his arms again, and this time Sizhui doesn’t even pretend to protest; his hand curls around the nape of Jingyi’s neck, pulling him closer.  As they kiss, Jingyi lets his hands wander, sliding down Sizhui’s back to the curve of his ass, sliding up the line of his thigh.  Sizhui frees Jingyi’s hair from its ponytail, sinking his fingers into it.  Sizhui’s hand in his hair instinctively tightens and his breath hitches as Jingyi’s hand trails higher and higher up his thigh.  Sizhui’s already hard, and Jingyi smirks into the kiss, palming Sizhui’s cock and making him moan into the kiss.

Without pulling away from the kiss, Sizhui moves his hand from his Jingyi’s hair to his waist, fumbling with his belt.  Jingyi’s belt is tossed aside, and Sizhui works his hands under the collar of his robes, running his hands over Jingyi’s chest and then across his back, fingers tracing the lines of the muscles.

Jingyi twines the tail of Sizhui’s forehead ribbon around one of his fingers, feeling the thrill at being allowed that still goes through him every time he touches the silk.  He tugs it gently and then, when Sizhui doesn’t stop him, tugs it free.  Deftly, he twists it so it doesn’t fall to the ground and tucks it into Sizhui’s pocket.

Sizhui’s lips move from his mouth to his jaw and then down the line of his neck, and Jingyi turns his attention to Sizhui’s belt and then the ties to the robes underneath.  A flash of annoyance goes through him as they impatiently work through the layers of the Gusu Lan uniform.  This is much easier when they’re already mostly undressed for the night.

The clothes and Jingyi’s forehead ribbon do eventually fall free.  

Jingyi pulls Sizhui into his lap, letting his hands linger on Sizhui’s narrow waist.  His thumbs trace down the lines of his obliques as Jingyi admires how well Sizhui fits into the curve of his hands.  It would be so easy to lose himself in this, in Sizhui, in the heat of his body, the silk of his skin, the taste of his lips.  It’s so easy.  But Jingyi hasn’t forgotten how this whole thing started.

“Sizhui?” he says.

“Mn?” 

“You still have to show me the book.”

“Hm?” He pulls back to look at Jingyi.  There’s vague confusion on his face, and Jingyi feels a fond smile on his own.  Sizhui is so one-minded sometimes, focusing so much on the task at hand that the whole world falls away, and Jingyi has the privilege to be the center of that attention.

Jingyi reaches out, tracing the curve of Sizhui’s bottom lip with his thumb, and watching as Sizhui’s thoughts scatter again.

“You,” Jingyi says, gaze caught by Sizhui’s mouth, “have to show me your porn.”

Sizhui blinks at him, and a blush darkens the faint flush high on his cheeks.

“Now?” he asks, sounding almost petulant.

“Mn,” Jingyi agrees.  “I want to see what you are interested in.”

Sizhui runs his tongue over his lip, tracing out the tip of Jingyi’s thumb with it. Jingyi’s breath catches, and Sizhui smiles.

“I think, Jingyi, you already figured out what I’m interested in.”

“Some of it,” Jingyi agrees, letting his hand fall away from Sizhui’s face before it becomes a bigger distraction for him than it is for Sizhui.  “But I want to see it all.  Show me what you like, Sizhui.”

Sizhui tilts his head slightly, and his eyes narrow.  

“You aren’t going to give up on this are you?”

“No,” Jingyi says, an unrepentant grin on his face.

“Mn, alright,” Sizhui says.  He lets go of Jingyi slowly, hands trailing over his skin until the last possible moment of contact, and then he turns back to the table.  Jingyi scoots up behind him, settling with Sizhui in between his legs.  He wraps his arms around Sizhui’s waist, pressing his bare chest to Sizhui’s back and looking over his shoulder.

Sizhui leans back, grinding against Jingyi’s erection, making him gasp and then moan.

“Are you sure?” Sizhui asks.  “We could just?”

Jingyi laughs and lets his hands fall to Sizhui’s thighs, squeezing them.

“Show me, and then we will.”

Somewhat impatiently, Sizhui grabs one of the two books, the one on top, and pulls it across the table towards him before flipping it open.

He opens the first page, and Jingyi looks at the drawing with curiosity more than anything.  The art is different from the one porn book he’d seen when a group of junior disciples had been passing it around.  The art quality is better for one, but it’s also the style is different, more sensual than purely graphic.  Jingyi is relieved but not at all surprised.

He studies the picture for a moment, but it’s nothing exciting, a woman on her knees and a man with his hands in her hair.  This particular act, Jingyi has already figured out.

“Are there women in all of these?” he asks Sizhui idly.

“In this one,” Sizhui says, glancing at him.  “Does it bother you?”

“Dunno,” Jingyi says with a shrug.  This picture certainly doesn’t, but as Sizhui turns a few of the pages, Jingyi can’t help the expression of distaste on his face.  He’d never particularly had the desire to see a woman naked and this only confirms it.

Sizhui, noticing his expression, snaps the book closed and pushes it aside.

“Maybe this is better,” he says, grabbing the other book.  

It is better, Jingyi finds as he studies the new picture: two men with one man's legs over the other’s shoulders.  Sizhui glances at Jingyi, gauging his reaction.  Jingyi presses his lips to Sizhui’s shoulder, not at all sure what reaction he’s supposed to be having.  It’s easy enough to imagine them like this, and that’s interesting, but the picture itself does nothing.

As he turns the first few pages, Sizhui glances at Jingyi, but when Jingyi’s reaction doesn’t turn negative, his focus shifts back to the book. Sizhui turns the pages, and Jingyi continues to watch over his shoulder, letting his hands run idly over Sizhui’s body.  Over the muscles of his abs and chest, down his arms, up his thighs, bunching up the silk of the pants he hasn’t removed yet.  

As Sizhui slowly flips through the book displaying men in a variety of positions, some of which look not at all comfortable, Jingyi can tell that Sizhui is affected by the art in a way that he is not.  He’s so attuned to the small changes in Sizhui’s body that it’d be hard to miss his interest.  

Jingyi’s lingering attention is mostly trying to puzzle out what is happening and how the positions work, but Sizhui’s gaze lingers for a completely different reason.  Jingyi can feel the slight uptake in the pace of his breath and sense the way the weight of his attention shifts away from Jingyi and onto the page.  He watches the way Sizui’s cock flushes harder, straining against the silk of his pants without needing to be touched.

Sizhui keeps his hands on the book, but it’s easy for Jingyi to imagine him touching himself and wonders if he would be if Jingyi wasn’t watching over his shoulder.

“Sizhui,” Jingyi says, voice low, husky, as he nimbly undoes the ties to Sizhui’s pants.

“Yes?” 

“You can touch yourself.  That’s what you’d normally do, isn’t it?”

“I-” Sizhui’s cheeks flush with embarrassment again.  

“Or do you want me to do it?” 

Jingyi guides one of Sizhui’s hands to his cock.  Sizhui’s breath catches as both their hands, one on top of the other, wrap around his length.  

Lazily, Jingyi mouths over the plane of Sizhui’s shoulder as he moves their hands up and down.

Sizhui’s breath shudders as he turns the next page of the book.  Curiosity starts to give way to arousal as Jingyi’s attention turns away from the art and onto Sizhui.

The slow turn of the pages pauses, catching Jingyi’s attention and bringing it back to the book.  The men in the picture are leaning over a desk in a position not too horribly different from their current one, and Jingyi wonders if that’s what caught Sizhui’s attention or if it’s something he generally prefers.

“You like this one?” he asks, studying the picture.

Sizhui’s flushed face goes even redder, and Jingyi smiles.

In a smooth motion, he grabs Sizhui’s hip with one hand and puts the other on his back, bending Sizhui over the table in a mirror of the art.

Sizhui squeaks in surprise, catching himself on the table with both hands and knocking his guqin askew, as he braces himself. Jingyi leans over him, not quite pressing him into the table, but pressing their bodies together.  He can feel as well as hear the way his breath hitches.

“I think you do,” Jingyi says, trailing his hand down Sizhui’s side and down to his hip before cupping the curve of his ass.  

“Don’t tease,” Sizhui says, but his voice is too breathy to have any bite.

“I assure you,” Jingyi says, kissing the back of Sizhui’s neck, “I fully intend to follow through.”

Sizhui’s next breath is shaky with desire and anticipation.  Jingyi’s fingers catch on Sizhui’s waistband, tugging his pants down around his knees and out of his way, even as he leaves a trail of love bites along the line of Sizhui’s spine, unable to resist leaving marks on the perfect, creamy canvas of Sizhui’s skin.

He presses a last kiss, gentle this time, onto the small of Sizhui’s back before grabbing the lube from the table and leaning back.  He pauses, breath catching slightly, at the sight of Sizhui like this, and lets his gaze linger, admiringly, for a moment.  Jingyi squeezes his ass, watching the way his fingers dimple the soft skin.  His eyes trace the curve of his ass and down the line of his spine, admiring the strong, supple planes of his back and the dip of his waist.  His long ponytail has spilled over one shoulder, the strands tangled and mussed from Jingyi’s hand.  

“You are lovely,” Jingyi says, hand on Sizhui’s ass.

“Jingy- ah” The word gives way to a small gasp as Jingyi slides a finger into him.  The motion is easy, and a flush of heat goes through Jingyi’s system as he imagines Sizhui taking his cock just as easily. Sizhui lets out a breath, knees sliding wider as he relaxes and Jingyi groans at the sight, palming his own hard cock, through the pants he hadn’t managed to take off.  He’s tempted to just take Sizhui here, bent over the table. 

Sizhui is, as ever, beautiful, but there is something more , something that Jingyi could never put words to, seeing Sizhui, who is usually so proper and composed, splayed over his desk with his guqin carelessly knocked aside.  Jingyi desperately wants to make love to him, to see him completely undone on Jingyi’s cock; he wants it enough that he almost forgets what prompted this whole thing.

But he’s still curious about the porn book on the table and what Sizhui’s interests are.  Without stopping his hand, he leans over Sizhui, pressing his lips to the heated and flushed skin of his shoulders.  

“Sizhui,” he says, voice low and rumbling in his chest.

“Yes?” Sizhui says, and his tone is breathless.  

“Show me what you want,” Jingyi says.

“What?” His voice is both dazed and distracted and satisfaction curls like warmth in Jingyi’s chest.

“The book,” Jingyi says,  “What do you want?”

“This,” he says, “this is good.”

“Mn,” Jingyi says, brushing his hair aside and kissing the slightly damp skin of his neck.  “I don’t think so.  I chose this.”

“And it’s- ah- good,” Sizhui says.

“Tell me what you want, Sizhui,” Jingyi says.  

It’s always a struggle to get Sizhui to admit his wants; he’s often too accommodating.  It’s frustrating for Jingyi who wants to give him the world, would give it to him, if only he would ask for it.

Jingyi leans further forward and nudges the book into Sizhui’s reach, still lazily fingering Sizhui with his other hand.  He runs his tongue along the shell of Sizhui’s ear, making him shiver.

“Show me what you want Sizhui, and it’s yours.”

Sizhui trembles for a moment, eyelids fluttering.  Jingyi kisses the crook of his neck, waiting.  Sizhui, hardly blushing this time, hurriedly flips several pages of the book to one that seems slightly dog-eared at the corner.

Jingyi studies it for a moment.  There are two pictures; one on each page. Both with the men standing up.  

“Is it... okay?” Sizhui asks, glancing at Jingyi and seeming uncertain.

Jingyi smiles.

“Your wish is my command, Sizhui.”  

He presses another quick kiss to Sizhui’s shoulder and leans back.

“Come on,” he says, rocking back onto his heels and reaching down to help pull Sizhui up from the table.

Sizhui pushes himself up to his feet with a speed that gives away his eagerness. He shucks his pants the rest of the way as he gets up. 

Before Jingyi can do anything other than kick off his own pants, Sizhui presses himself close, sliding his arms around Jingyi’s neck and kissing him deeply.  Jingyi threads his fingers through Sizhui’s hair for a moment, leaning into the kiss and holding Sizhui close.  He can feel the frantic beat of Sizhui’s heart where they are pressed together and feel the excited tension in his muscles.

Jingyi lets his hand slide through the length of Sizhui’s hair and down to his hips.  Easily, he lifts Sizhui off the ground.  Objectively speaking, Sizhui is solid; the muscles of his body are hardened from as many years of training as Jingyi’s own.  But to Jingyi, he hardly weighs anything.  Jingyi lifts him, and Sizhui wraps his legs around Jingyi’s waist.

Jingyi breaks the kiss, taking a few panting breaths and smiling at Sizhui who looks somewhere between excited and dazed and is delightfully rumpled.

“Shall we figure this out then?” Jingyi asks.  This is certainly trickier and more exciting than anything they’d tried before, but he’s not worried.

“Yes,” Sizhui breathes, eyes bright.  

Jingyi’s breath catches and he promises himself that he will figure out every single thing in that book that will make Sizhui this excited. 

“Hold on,” Jingyi says, and Sizhui nods.

It takes a moment of rearranging, lifting Sizhui higher, pulling his knee up over Jingyi’s elbow, tilting his hips, before Jingyi can get the angle right.  Jingyi’s eyes close as he slowly thrusts into the enveloping heat of Sizhui’s body.  He goes slowly, letting Sizhui adjust, but Sizhui takes his cock so easily, so perfectly.

“Oh, A-Yuan,” he moans as the sensation almost overwhelms him.

Sizhui presses his face into Jingyi’s shoulder as Jingyi presses into him, a small sigh coming from his lips when he’s taken it all.

They move slowly at first, getting used to the unusual position.  Jingyi grips Sizhui’s hips guiding him on Jingyi’s cock as he thrusts.  The velvety warmth around his cock scatters any coherent thought as Jingyi starts to lose himself in Sizhui.

Jingyi could stay in the moment for ages, reveling in the feeling of Sizhui on his cock and listening to the small sounds from Sizhui’s lips, but it’s not long before Sizhui is begging him to move faster, to fuck him harder.  Jingyi has never been able to resist Sizhui, especially when he’s begging, so he does.  With each sharp thrust, he jerks Sizhui down onto his cock and then lifts him off again, his fingers pressing hard into the skin of Sizhui’s hips as his grip tightens.

Jingyi can’t see Sizhui’s face where it’s pressed against his shoulder, but he can feel the already broken rhythm of his breath where it spills hot against his skin.  He can feel the way his breath catches with each thrust.  

“More,” Sizhui pants, “more, please, I- oh, I’m yours, please, I- ah”

Something electric and possessive flashes through Jingyi at the words, and he realizes as he pulls Sizhui down onto his cock particularly hard, making his speech fall apart entirely, that Sizhui wants to be manhandled more.  So of course, he complies.  

Pleasure builds like slow heat under Jingyi’s skin, and the sounds Sizhui makes as he’s moved on Jingyi’s cock only adds to it.

“You feel so good,” Jingyi pants.  “So fucking good, so perfect, like you were made to take me.”

Sizhui moans slightly, trembling at the praise, and Jingyi keeps talking, letting the compliments fall from his lips as easy as breathing, telling Sizhui how good and beautiful and loved he is.  Sizhui shudders, his grip on Jingyi tightening painfully.

Jingyi can feel how quickly Sizhui is falling apart, can feel the way he goes boneless with pleasure, letting Jingyi move him without almost any feedback or resistance, can hear the moans and gasps pouring from his lips.  Jingyi’s eyes are half-closed as he lets the sound of Sizhui’s pleasure wash over him, making desire like electric heat sizzle through his whole body.  

He recognizes the way that Sizhui’s breath turns into a whine at the back of his throat, and all his muscles start to tense again.  He smiles as Sizhui once again begs him for more, harder, faster.

“Jingyi, please,” he pants, “I’m so- ah close.  Please.”

So Jingyi gives it to him.  His grip on Sizhui’s hips growing tight enough to bruise as he holds onto his own control.  The pace of his thrusts chases the frantic pounding of their heartbeats.  

He feels Sizhui’s climax go through his body, feels him go taught and shuddery where their bodies are pressed together, feels him tightening around Jingyi’s cock, and hears the broken moan on his lips that has the rough shape of Jingyi’s name.

Jingyi lets Sizhui’s pleasure and his own crash over him, letting go and finishing in the soft warmth of Sizhui’s body gone pliant with pleasure.

Jingyi shudders, breath coming hard, as the pleasure washes over him and then away like a wave, leaving him tired, but his steps are steady as he carries Sizhui the small distance to his bed and sits down.  The bed seems much further down than he remembers, but he sits with Sizhui on his lap, still clinging to him.

Jingyi wraps his arms around Sizhui’s waist and rests his forehead against his shoulder.  The harsh sound of their breathing is the loudest thing in the room aside from their heartbeats as they sit, holding onto one another.

“Thank you,” Sizhui says, when his breath is calm again, “that was…”

“Good I hope,” Jingyi says with an amused smile.  

“Excellent,” Sizhui says.  He leans back so he can look at Jingyi’s face.  He smiles at Jingyi, warm eyes going soft.  Gently he reaches out and smooths Jingyi’s bangs away from his face before kissing his forehead where his ribbon would be, then his nose, and finally his mouth.

“I’m glad,” Jingyi says, rather dramatically falling back against the bed, “because I’m dead now.”

Sizhui laughs, looking down at Jingyi with soft eyes.

“Mn, I didn’t realize you were so out of shape Jing-er.”

Jingyi huffs indignantly.

“Me? Out of shape.  You are heavy, A-Yuan.”

“Heavy?” Sizhui asks in disbelief.  

“Mn. Heavy,” Jingyi agrees.

“Nonsense, I’m half your size.”

“You are not!” Jingyi protests.  Sizhui is a couple of inches shorter than him, nowhere near small enough to be half his size.

Sizhui’s smile is unrepentant for an instant, but he turns it into a pout.

“I thought you were so strong,” he reaches down to pat Jingyi’s pecs. “All those handstands.  Turns out you are too weak for a little bit of- oh!”

His words cut off as Jingyi grabs him and hauls him down to the bed, and then flips them over pinning him to the bed.

“What was that?” Jingyi asks.

Sizhui just grins at him, eyes bright, hair splayed across the bed, and absolutely lovely, and Jingyi has to kiss him, so he does again and again until the two of them collapse against the bed, laughing, happy, and content.