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It takes a few days for the fear to creep in. After miraculously getting Mo Ran back and the nerve-wrecking excitement of Taxian-jun making his first appearance, Chu Wanning is too swept up in a myriad of overwhelming feelings and the impossibility of this new life with Mo Ran to really linger on everything that came before the unexpected happy ending.
It’s not that it went away; it’s just been easy to ignore. Mo Ran is incredibly distracting that way. One night, though, after Mo Ran enthusiastically and very thoroughly takes Chu Wanning apart, he finds that he is unable to fall asleep.
He reluctantly leaves Mo Ran in their bed, making sure not to wake him as he gets up, and he spends a few sleepless hours at his desk, tinkering with his latest project. It’s not that he’s not tired—exhaustion is weighing heavy on his shoulders—but that there’s a rumbling discomfort coiling in his gut that keeps him from relaxing. He’s been so—happy, since he and Mo Ran came here, in this little house away from the word. Happy is the word he would use; there’s no other way he could describe the elation that fills his chest when he looks at Mo Ran; a kind of bright and light feeling that has him ducking his head in embarrassment most of the time.
So, he has no reason to feel like this, not really. Not when he got everything he ever wanted. He’s annoyed at himself, unable to shake out the odd churning in his stomach even as he tries to distract himself with his creations. In the end, deep into the night, he sighs, rubbing at his gritty eyes, and figures he should try to get back to bed. If not to sleep, at least to lie down for a bit.
He puts out the candle with a swift movement and returns to the bedroom with the silvery moonlight as a guide. The bed is only barely illuminated, Mo Ran’s figure draped in shadows. He’s lying on his back, the sheets tangled around his waist. Chu Wanning can’t really make out the details of his face, but his heart twists all the same.
It’s only as he’s nearing the bed that something makes him freeze in his tracks; a memory comes, unwelcome and unbidden, of Mo Ran, dead, his whole body unnaturally still, as it had never been in life, his skin pale.
It hadn’t been that long ago that Mo Ran had died in his arms, Chu Wanning helpless to save him.
Fear tickles down his spine like cold water, rooting him to the spot. He’s taken back to those hours, to feeling the exact moment Mo Ran breathed for the last time, to Mo Ran’s lifeless body lying in his arms. The memories overlap with the Mo Ran in front of him, asleep in their bed, their home, and Chu Wanning blinks furiously, desperately trying to remind himself through the fog of panic that they made it. That Mo Ran came back to him.
He stares at Mo Ran, the present Mo Ran, attempting to calm himself down, to wrestle his mind into thinking logically, but Mo Ran is so still. Is he—a thought prickles at his brain—is he...breathing?
Chu Wanning waits a few, torturous seconds. In the darkness, he can’t see Mo Ran’s chest move. Fear lumps in his throat, choking him, but at least he gets his feet unstuck from the floor; he throws himself forward, crawling pathetically on the bed, clawing at the sheets until his hands find the warm skin of Mo Ran’s chest, pushing aside his loose sleep robes.
Warm—not cold like death. And there it is, Mo Ran’s chest moving under his palm. Chu Wanning is left shaking in the wake of the relief that sweeps over him, tears embarrassingly pushing behind his eyes. Alive, alive, alive. Mo Ran is not dead, not a corpse, not gone.
He sits back on his haunches, bringing his hands up to cover his face while he tries to gather the broken pieces of his composure; his breathing is harsh in the silence of the night, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“Shizun?” A rough-sleep voice calls out to him. Fingers circle his wrists, trying to pull his hands down. “Shizun, what’s wrong?”
Mortified by being caught, Chu Wanning resists Mo Ran’s attempts to get him to lower his arms. Not only has he acted completely illogically, now Mo Ran is awake to witness the humiliating aftermath. He has rarely felt so small or pathetic.
“Wanning?” Mo Ran’s voice is sharp with concern. He finally tugs hard enough that Chu Wanning is forced to drop his hands, but he keeps his head ducked down. At least he’s kept the tears abay, and it’s mercifully dark, but he’s not sure of what his face will show if he looks up at Mo Ran.
“It’s nothing,” he tries to reassure Mo Ran. “Go back to sleep, Mo Ran.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Mo Ran says gently. He’s still holding Chu Wanning’s wrists, his thumbs caressing the vulnerable skin. The simple intimacy of it is almost too much.
“Just a nightmare,” he says dismissively. It’s not a complete lie; it had been a nightmare, just one he had been awake for.
“What about?” Mo Ran whispers, poking at Chu Wanning’s chin. Chu Wanning finally looks up, although he doesn’t meet Mo Ran’s eyes. He hopes his face isn’t too wrecked.
“I said it doesn’t matter,” Chu Wanning says stubbornly. He just can’t—can’t talk about it, can’t put into words and make it real. He will break apart like shattered glass, and he wouldn’t be able to handle that. Besides, he’s supposed to be happy. He is happy. He won’t burden Mo Ran with his unfounded fears.
“Shizun…”
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning finally snaps, frustrated. He immediately regrets it in the wake of silence that follows. He glances at Mo Ran, and in the shadows of the room he can barely make out the confused knit of his eyebrows, the tension around his eyes. He doesn’t see any hurt, but Chu Wanning feels horrible all the same.
“Can we just go back to sleep? I’m tired,” he grumbles, reaching out to squeeze Mo Ran’s thigh. A quiet apology.
Mo Ran hesitates, but in the end he sighs. “Of course.” He lies back down, patting the empty space besides him. “Come here, then.”
Chu Wanning huffs, and it comes out soft. He lies down next to Mo Ran, tucking his face into his broad, muscled shoulder and throwing an arm around his waist. He usually would show more reluctance—he still hasn’t shaken off his thin face—but he feels guilty for snapping at Mo Ran and he...he needs it. Needs to feel the heat of his skin, the solid, real weight of him.
Mo Ran tangles their legs together, slipping his arm under Chu Wanning’s neck to hold him closer. Under his arm, Chu Wanning can feel his steady breathing, his chest rising and falling. He closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of it.
“Goodnight, Shizun,” Mo Ran whispers, as if they hadn’t gone to bed hours earlier, as if dawn isn’t closer than sunset. Chu Wanning buries a smile in Mo Ran’s shoulders.
“Goodnight, Mo Ran,” he whispers back.
He doesn’t believe he’ll be able to actually fall asleep and he’s preparing himself to spend a few hours just listening to Mo Ran breathing, but he must have dozed off at some point because when he blinks his eyes open the room is suffused in soft, early morning light. There’s a chilly breeze sweeping through the window, but Chu Wanning barely notices with the line of heat at his back, a heavy, warm arm wrapped around his waist. They must’ve shifted in their sleep.
Chu Wanning clears his throat, blinks fog from his eyes. There’s a faint pulsing in his temples—the tell-tale of a future headache—and he’s tired, still. Craggy. He doesn’t feel rested, doesn’t feel like he slept at all.
Most of all, he still feels—unsettled. Like he has stepped on uneven ground and found nothing but air beneath his feet. There’s something lurking in the depths of his gut, its shadows wrapping around his heart.
He’s annoyed. He’s angry. Haven’t they been through enough? After everything, do they not get to leave it all behind?
He’s jolted out of the spiral of thoughts by Mo Ran’s arm tightening around his waist and a warm kiss being pressed against his neck. It surprises him enough that his misery disappears for a moment, all of his attention focusing on the places where Mo Ran is pressing his lips. He fists his hands in the sheets, a shiver running through his body.
Mo Ran hums, stroking his stomach with his big hand, sucking gently at Chu Wanning’s neck.
“How long have you been awake?” Chu Wanning asks, embarrassed by how breathy his voice sounds.
“Just woke up,” Mo Ran replies, licking over the skin where he's just sucked a mark. He slips his hand under Chu Wanning’s rumpled sleep robes, caressing the bare skin he finds underneath. Chu Wanning squirms, and in doing so he presses against Mo Ran’s erection.
“Mo Ran,” he says sharply, and then he snaps his mouth shut so hard his teeth clack together, remembering the harshness of a few hours ago, how he’d regretted it. He shouldn’t have worried, though, because his voice comes out too high, too raspy, to truly have any effect.
Mo Ran chuckles, nipping at his neck. “Yes?”
“You’re so—” Chu Wanning says. As if he doesn’t know by now, how Mo Ran is. It just—it still shocks him, how much he wants Chu Wanning.
“I am,” Mo Ran replies serenely, pressing his crotch against Chu Wanning’s ass. “I can’t help it, Shizun,” he whispers in his ear, biting lightly at Chu Wanning’s earlobe. “Not when I wake up with you in my arms.”
Chu Wanning flushes all the way to his collarbones, his heart taking on an uneven rhythm. “Shameless,” he whispers, unconvincingly.
“I don’t see you pulling away,” Mo Ran points out, and it’s true. Chu Wanning hasn’t shifted his hips away from Mo Ran’s hard cock, and he doesn’t...he doesn’t want to. It’s just. He’s just not used to being wanted like this, so earnestly. He’s not sure he ever will.
To think that he had almost lost this. He had, actually, lost this. He remembers the feeling of it, the gaping void left by Mo Ran he thought he would have to live with for the rest of his life. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d been ready to die with Mo Ran, with Taxian-jun. He had no wish to live in a world that kept going, unchanging, without Mo Ran in it.
Mo Ran, his shameless, honest, kind disciple. He thinks of a future without these mornings, Mo Ran’s hands on him, waking up together. His breath stutters, a fist closing around his lungs.
“Shizun?” Mo Ran calls when Chu Wanning is silent for too long. He pulls away, cold air filling the space between them, and this is what Chu Wanning, with his thin face, should want, but. But.
The distance feels unbearable.
He rolls on his back, grabbing at Mo Ran’s collar and tugging. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he says, maybe a bit mulishly, his gaze fixed on Mo Ran’s muscled chest.
Mo Ran chuckles, heaving his body over Chu Wanning’s, his elbows resting on the pillow next to his head. Chu Wanning expects to be pounced on, but Mo Ran simply...looks at him, his forehead wrinkling.
Chu Wanning turns his head to the side. He doesn’t want to be looked at, doesn’t want to be seen, all the ugly and pathetic pieces of him. He doesn’t need that. He skims his hands over Mo Ran’s sides, over his ribs, the dip of his waistline, and something washes over him, violent and demanding like rapids. The need to feel Mo Ran against his body, inside of him, all over him. That is what he needs. The reassurance of Mo Ran’s physical presence, always so imposing and overwhelming.
Mo Rain inhales sharply as he cups his face, gently. Chu Wanning swallows nervously, desire and need coursing through his veins, turning his limbs weak. He wants, and wants, and wants, but never knows how to ask.
“I didn’t tell you to stop, Mo Ran,” he repeats.
“I didn’t stop,” Mo Ran protests. This makes Chu Wanning finally turn his head back towards Mo Ran to give him a scathing look. Mo Ran laughs.
“I’m touching you, aren’t I?”
Chu Wanning kicks his leg out, a show of frustration.
“Does Shizun want more?” Mo Ran teases him. Chu Wanning scoffs as a response, as everything in him yells yes. He needs to not think anymore. He brings his hand up, smoothing over that wrinkle of concern between Mo Ran’s eyebrows with a thumb. He doesn’t want to see it anymore. He doesn’t want the reminder of last night.
Mo Ran lets him with a curious glance, a hint of worry casting a shadow over his features.
“Are you just going to leave your Shizun waiting after riling him up, then?” Chu Wanning asks, his tone strained. He’s not good at seduction, not good at making himself appealing. He should—should try to look irresistible, maybe slip his robes off, incite Mo Ran to touch him. But he has never known how to be anyone other than who he is.
Fortunately, it seems that Mo Ran doesn’t need much of a show. His gaze turns dark, hungry, dropping to Chu Wanning’s lips. Chu Wanning’s mouth automatically falls open, heat rising in his gut.
“This one apologizes for keeping you waiting.” Mo Ran whispers before leaning down, capturing Chu Wanning’s lips in a kiss. He licks into Chu Wanning’s mouth without hesitating, his tongue heavy and demanding. He kisses like he’s trying to devour Chu Wanning, like he owns him.
Chu Wanning lets himself be taken, lets himself be pressed into the bed as Mo Ran’s body molds with his. This is what he needs to forget, this is what will make it better. Mo Ran nips at his bottom lip; the sting of pain leaves him breathless for a moment, his mouth going slack.
“Always so needy for it,” Mo Ran comments in a gravelly voice, pulling back to kiss along his jawline, all the way to his neck. Chu Wanning throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, humiliation and arousal squirming in his stomach. He squeezes his legs around Mo Ran’s waist even as his hands go to Mo Ran’s shoulders, as if trying to push him away. He doesn’t, letting Mo Ran sucks bruises on his throat, his neediness exposed.
“Mo Ran…” he murmurs. Mo Ran presses a kiss against his cheek.
“Look at you,” he says, his thumb caressing the place that his lips just touched. Chu Wanning’s face must be as red as the inside of a watermelon by the feel of it. “So beautiful.”
Chu Wanning hides his face in Mo Ran’s chest. He can’t stand it when he says things like that. He wonders if one day they will stop sounding like lies. Still, in this position he’s close to Mo Ran’s beating heart, and it makes him feel better, steadier.
“Stop,” he still protests, out of habit.
“I’m just telling Shizun the truth,” Mo Ran says earnestly.
“I told you to not call me that when we’re doing...this.”
It’s really hard to be stern when he’s so worked up and hiding between Mo Ran’s pectorals.
Mo Ran laughs, warm and earthy, before grabbing Chu Wanning by the hair and tugging his head back. A frisson of scorching heat goes through his entire body as Mo Ran reclaims his mouth, rolling his hips against Chu Wanning’s, their erections rubbing against each other. It punches an involuntary moan out of him, a cut-off breathy sound that seems to only spur Mo Ran on.
“Wanning,” he says, sending Chu Wanning’s heart into an erratic rhythm. “Hm, you’re already so hard, just from a few kisses.”
“So are you,” Chu Wanning mumbles, his hips helplessly moving against Mo Ran’s, seeking friction. Mo Ran’s dick is stiff against his, as huge as always. He remembers how it had felt to have it moving inside of him the previous night, how he’d felt so full and stuffed and safe, held in Mo Ran’s grip. It makes his blood boil with the need to feel that again, a feeling so big and all-encompassing he thinks that it’s going to burst out of the confines of his body.
Mo Ran grabs his chin between his fingers, his kisses unyielding as he rubs their cocks together, Chu Wanning unable to do anything but hold on to Mo Ran. “How could I not, when I woke up next to you?”
Chu Wanning claws at Mo Ran’s shoulders, his fingers slipping under his robes and finding skin. “Flatterer,” he comments, his voice cracking. He could come like this, he thinks. His dick is already weeping pre-come. But it won’t be enough. He needs more.
He digs his fingers into Mo Ran’s skin instead, tapping one hip with his thigh, a silent demand. Mo Ran’s muscles jump. “Is Wanning unsatisfied?” he asks cheekily.
“No,” he says hastily. Not unsatisfied. But…
“Coming like this isn’t enough for you?” Mo Ran grinds their hips together roughly, a moan falling out of Chu Wanning’s lips.
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning groans. Mo Ran tugs at his robes, slipping them down his shoulders until they pool at Chu Wanning’s elbows. His fingers find Chu Wanning’s left nipple with precision.
“What if I wanted you to come like this?” Mo Ran asks, staring at Chu Wanning’s chest. He tweaks at his nipple, pulling it harshly, rubbing it until it’s pert and sore. Chu Wanning is panting, squirming under Mo Ran’s assault. His lips fall open when Mo Ran leans down to lick his other nipple, taking the bud between his teeth and biting. Pain lances through Chu Wanning’s nerves and his hips jerk up on their own accord.
When Mo Ran finally gets tired of playing with his chest, his nipples are red and abused and Chu Wanning is squirming on the sheets, ready to tip over the edge.
“My poor Wanning,” Mo Ran whispers, and roughly grabs Chu Wanning’s dick in his big hand, jerking him off fast and relentlessly. Chu Wanning’s back arches off the bed and he comes, a burst of white exploding before his eyes.
The wave of pleasure disappears as fast as it had come on, leaving Chu Wanning feeling even more frustrated, a desperate itch coiling at the small of his back. His cock is still half-hard, the evidence of his release staining his belly and robes.
“So easy for me,” Mo Ran breathes, kissing him deep and dirty. Chu Wanning is slow to reciprocate, overwhelmed by his own shame. Here he is, covered in his own come, and he’s still not satisfied.
Mo Ran breaks the kiss and stares down at Chu Wanning with an arched eyebrow. Chu Wanning turns his cheek into the pillow. “Your turn,” he points out in a mumble.
“Not yet,” Mo Ran says. Chu Wanning slants his eyes towards him, and Mo Ran grins. “I’m not done with you.”
He grabs Chu Wanning’s hips, flipping him around easily. His robes are torn off his body, leaving him naked and vulnerable.
“Did Wanning think I was going to leave him like this, empty and wanting?” Mo Ran whispers, tugging him up until Chu Wanning is forced on his knees. He buries his face in his arms, humiliated by the fact that Mo Ran has seen right through him, straight to the heart of his greed, and still a part of him is happy that he will get more of this.
“Who said I—” Chu Wanning’s breath hitches when Mo Ran strokes a hand over the inside of his thigh, his touch deceptively gentle. “Who said I was empty.” It’s a token protest.
“But you are,” Mo Ran murmurs, his hand sliding higher, higher, over Chu Wanning’s ass. His fingers knead into the soft flesh and using both his hands he spreads his buttocks, exposing his hole, still tender from the previous night. He thumbs at the sensitive rim, and Chu Wanning jolts, his hole clenching. “See? You need me inside, Wanning, you want it so badly, and I’m going to give it to you.”
“You have no—shame—Mo Ran!” his voice pitches high when Mo Ran spits on his hole and then plunges two fingers inside with no warning. Chu Wanning’s body reels forward, as if trying to escape, and Mo Ran shoves him back on his fingers with a tight grip on his hip. He’s sensitive, too sensitive, his body already having gone through an orgasm, as quick as it had been.
“We already established that,” Mo Ran says, unrepentant, scissoring his fingers inside Chu Wanning, spreading him open. “I think you like it.”
Chu Wanning whines, fisting his hands in the sheets. It stings, the pleasure laced with pain, but he likes it, maybe too much; Mo Ran adds a third finger, pumping them in and out, hitting the spot that makes sparks shoot up his spine, and it’s good, so good.
“I wish you could see how well you’re taking me,” Mo Ran croons, his free hand caressing the back of his thigh, his palm searing hot against Chu Wanning’s skin. “So tight, even after I fucked you last night.”
“Stop,” he murmurs, his voice weak, his stomach tied up in knots. He doesn’t mean it, of course he doesn’t mean it, and Mo Ran knows that. It only encourages him to drive his fingers harder and faster into him, until Chu Wanning is dizzy with it. This is all he is, a hole for Mo Ran to use, pretty and open for him, and it’s embarrassingly freeing.
When Mo Ran slides his fingers out, leaving him startlingly empty, Chu Wanning jolts. He whips his head around, disgruntled, and he sees Mo Ran sitting up on his knees, his sleep robes open to reveal the alluring planes of his chest and stomach. He’s fisting his dick, slicking it up with the oil they keep under the bed as he stares at Chu Wanning’s ass.
Chu Wanning feels heat spread like wildfire through his veins. He can’t tear his eyes away from Mo Ran’s cock, flushed and hard. He’s so big that Mo Ran’s huge paw almost looks small wrapped around it, and it makes Chu Wanning weak at the knees with want.
His own cock is stiff and weeping, despite having come not long ago. From his position he hasn’t been able to get any friction, and seeing Mo Ran like this, staring at Chu Wanning with unrestrained lust as he jerks himself off, makes him teether over the edge. Chu Wanning brings his hand to his cock, grinding against his palm, needy and pathetic, sighing in relief.
It only lasts a brief second; abruptly, Mo Ran grabs both of his wrists and wrenches his arms behind his back, forcing Chu Wanning in an undignified arch, his ass up in the air and his face against the bed. He hisses in frustration, glaring at Mo Ran as much as he can from his position.
Mo Ran tuts, wrapping one hand around Chu Wanning’s wrists. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Chu Wanning protests stubbornly, and probably uselessly.
“Don’t you?” Mo Ran says dismissively, and it makes something in Chu Wanning’s chest squirm. It’s humiliating, to be bent over like this, kept still by his disciple, and yet…
“I guess you also don’t need to get fucked then,” Mo Ran adds in a cool voice, letting him go, leaving him cold. The chilly breeze feels awful in place of Mo Ran’s hot skin.
“No,” Chu Wanning says, the complaint falling out of his mouth unbidden. He keeps his wrists crossed behind his back.
“No, what? No, you don’t need to get fucked?”
“Mo Ran…” How easy it is to break him. The possibility of Mo Ran leaving him like this, open and cold, makes him desperate.
Mo Ran leans over him suddenly and grabs Chu Wanning’s chin roughly. “What, Wanning?” he asks, a grin tucked in the corner of his mouth, his voice edged with steel. Chu Wanning knows what Mo Ran wants him to say, and in the end he was always too weak to resist him.
“Please,” he whispers, his eyes stinging. “I want you—inside.”
Mo Ran’s eyes flash with something dark and pleased before his mouth is on Chu Wanning’s, demanding. He bites at Chu Wanning’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood.
“You beg so pretty,” Mo Ran whispers against his lips. “My pretty slut. You can’t even help it.” Mo Ran grinds against him, his cock slipping in the cleft of Chu Wanning’s ass. Chu Wanning moans, his lips falling open, and Mo Ran wastes no time in taking the chance to lick into his mouth.
Chu Wanning melts under Mo Ran’s touch, his heart beating loudly in his ears. His neck prickles with shame—my pretty slut—and desire, and Chu Wanning is unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Mo Ran eventually pulls back and grabs Chu Wanning’s wrists again, tying them together with something, a scrap of soft fabric. Chu Wanning tests the give, the restraint digging into his skin, and finds it sturdy.
“All you have to do is lie there—” Mo Ran says, grabbing his hips, “—and take it.”
And then Mo Ran’s dick is finally, finally pressing between Chu Wanning’s buttocks, his hole opening easily around it. Mo Ran doesn’t go slowly, doesn’t give Chu Wanning any time to get used to his girth; he presses forward instead, forcing himself into Chu Wanning’s body, his hole slicked only by a minimal amount of oil and Mo Ran’s spit.
Chu Wanning whimpers, pinned beneath Mo Ran, caught and helpless. It stings, the pain sharp and unforgiving, and pleasure still swirls stubbornly in his stomach. Mo Ran slams his cock all the way in and Chu Wanning opens his mouth around a quiet moan, his nerves lighting up, his toes curling. He’s filled to the brim, stretched open, and he loves it.
“Fuck,” Mo Ran swears, his fingers digging Chu Wanning’s hips so hard that he’s sure he will have finger-shaped bruises soon. Mo Ran always loves looking at the marks he leaves on him, tracing over them constantly, a proof that he was there, that Chu Wanning belongs to him. It makes Chu Wanning horribly flustered, but he lets Mo Ran do it every single time.
“Move,” he whispers now, his voice raw. It’s more of a plea than a demand. Mo Ran doesn’t waste time, pulling his hips back and slamming back in, aiming for the spot that will take Chu Wanning apart at the seams. His knees go so weak that he’s pretty sure the only thing keeping him up is Mo Ran’s grip.
Mo Ran sets a punishing pace, pressing against that spot every single time. Chu Wanning is lost, his head spinning, sweat coating his face. His moans mix with the sound of their skin slapping together, a dirty cacophony that fills his ears.
“You feel so good,” Mo Ran says, his voice low and rough. He thrusts into Chu Wanning so deep that he can feel it in his throat, and he’s pathetically close to coming already. He feels ready to burst out of his skin, an explosion forming in his stomach. When Mo Ran grabs his dick, Chu Wanning’s entire body spasms.
“You’re dripping,” Mo Ran says, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. “You’re all wet just for me, aren’t you?”
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning slurs, doing his best to grind against Mo Ran’s calloused hand.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve been so good to me, you can come, Wanning.”
Chu Wanning does. He comes all over Mo Ran’s hand, his nails digging into his palms. His vision whites out, his head emptying of all thought. He lets the merciless sea of pleasure take over. It lasts for a long time, and all Chu Wanning is conscious of is Mo Ran’s touch, a steady constant. The rest doesn’t matter. He’s safe here.
He floats for a while, his eyes closed, his body limp. A small sound punches itself out of his mouth when he’s jostled and lifted, but a warm hand pets at his side, reassuring. Chu Wanning hums, knowing that Mo Ran is still inside of him, still filling him.
When he blinks his eyes open, his brain still hazy, he realizes that he’s being held in Mo Ran’s lap, Chu Wanning’s back against his chest. His head lolls on Mo Ran’s shoulder as Mo Ran fucks up into him, chasing his own relief.
Chu Wanning mewls, tender and overstimulated. Mo Ran hums gently, nosing at the side of his neck. On a particular harsh thrust, he bites down on the skin. Chu Wanning gasps, his eyes filling with tears. It’s too much, but he doesn’t want it to stop. It’s good to be held like this, to let Mo Ran use him for his own pleasure.
Mo Ran is all around him, inside him, and this is all Chu Wanning wants, for the rest of his life. He sniffs, his eyes watery, as Mo Ran fucks him faster, his movements getting more and more frantic. He licks over the teeth marks he must have left and then he tilts Chu Wanning’s head to the side until they’re kissing.
How could have he lost this and survived? He remembers all too well how cold the world had felt after Mo Ran had died, how empty, a stark contrast to this moment.
He’s terrified that he’s going to go back to that world. He's scared that this is all a dream, conjured up by his grieving mind to cope with Mo Ran’s death. He fears that he’s going to wake up any minute, alone as he has been most of his life, without Mo Ran to keep him warm, with no one to come home to.
His chest is squeezing so tight that it’s hard to breathe, shards of glass shredding his throat. Mo Ran kisses him, kisses him, kisses him and then comes inside of him with a grunt. He whispers, “I love you, Shizun,” against his lips, and something inside of Chu Wanning shatters.
He cries as Mo Ran holds him tighter. Tears stream down his face, his chest heaving as he attempts to control the sobs that strain to burst out of his lips. He’s aware of Mo Ran lying him down and untying his wrists. He can hear the thrum of his voice. He can feel it when Mo Ran pulls out, and it makes him panic. He gasps, his arms reaching out, and Mo Ran is immediately there, holding him to his chest, saying something Chu Wanning can’t make out.
He keeps crying, sobs finally spilling out of his mouth, and the overwhelming grief of Mo Ran’s loss is coating everything. He can’t make himself stop, can’t shove the fear down and pretend it doesn’t exist. He grabs at Mo Ran’s body, his nails catching on skin, and it’s not enough.
He doesn’t know how long he does this for, but it must be long enough for Mo Ran to realize that these aren’t the usual sex tears. A familiar voice is calling his name, and then there are hands on his cheeks.
“—zun? Wanning!”
Mo Ran’s concerned face swims into his vision. Chu Wanning tries to speak, but nothing comes out, his breathing too fast to form any coherent sentences. He digs his nails into Mo Ran’s shoulders, panicked.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, I just need you to breathe,” Mo Ran says. He lays a hand on Chu Wanning’s back, pressing him close to his body. Lying on top of Mo Ran like this, he can feel his chest moving. “Good, just follow my lead. Breathe for me, Wanning, please?”
Something in his brain clicks, and Chu Wanning tries. After a few failed attempts, he manages to match his breathing to Mo Ran’s, and it helps. His sobbing slows, petering into hitching gasps.
“Good,” Mo Ran repeats, stroking Chu Wanning’s hair. “Take your time.”
Chu Wanning swallows a lump of tears, burying his face in Mo Ran’s chest. As they breathe together, the room is silent, and the receding panic allows embarrassment to take over. Shame churns in Chu Wanning’s gut, unforgiving. How could he lose control of himself like that, and as Mo Ran was fucking him? He doesn’t even want to know what Mo Ran must think, now.
Suddenly, the contact between them becomes unbearable, reminding Chu Wanning of his weakness. Mo Ran is here, he’s alive, why can’t he just get over it?
He sits up abruptly and climbs off the bed. His legs shake under him when he stands up, but he pays it no mind as he grabs his torn sleep robes and clumsily puts them on with unsteady hands. He feels wetness trickle down his leg; his stomach is sticky with his own come.
“Shizun,” Mo Ran calls, but Chu Wanning doesn’t look at him as he storms out of the room. He doesn’t have a plan, it’s not like he can escape Mo Ran in their small house and he can’t go outside like this, but he just needs to—to—
He rounds their privacy screen, grabbing a cloth. He knows that Mo Ran has followed him; his presence fills the room with its weight. Chu Wanning tries to ignore it, cleaning himself up as best as he can, focusing on the task instead of the storm of his thoughts. Still, when he’s done, he has no way of leaving without facing Mo Ran.
He takes a deep breath to steady himself and he barely manages to hurry past Mo Ran’s waiting form when Mo Ran grabs him and spins him around. Chu Wanning tries to shove him away, but Mo Ran holds on to his wrists.
“Shizun, what’s wrong?” Mo Ran asks. Chu Wanning stares down at the floor, briefly considering the idea of summoning Tianwen to break out of Mo Ran’s hold.
“Let me go,” he demands, in the steadiest tone he can manage.
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Chu Wanning snaps.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning hisses. He takes a step back, but Mo Ran just goes with him. He can’t look up. He just can’t. Not after he threw such a pathetic tantrum.
“Shizun, I—did I do something?” Mo Ran whispers after a tension-filled pause. “Did I hurt you?”
Mo Ran’s tone has been collected until now, but on the word hurt his voice wavers, and it sends a pang right through Chu Wanning’s chest. That’s what makes his head snap up.
Mo Ran’s face is lined with concern, dark shadows pooling in his eyes. It makes Chu Wanning feel horrible.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says sternly, forcing himself to stare right at Mo Ran. He can’t have him think that it was a failure on his part, when it’s Chu Wanning who keeps failing. “It wasn’t you.”
“What happened, then?” Mo Ran asks stubbornly.
Chu Wanning bites the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to look away again. Mo Ran sighs, letting go of his wrist to cup Chu Wanning’s face tenderly, as if cradling a precious thing. Chu Wanning trembles under the careful touch.
“You can tell me,” Mo Ran murmurs. “Whatever it is.”
But he can’t. Chu Wanning swallows the lump in his throat, his hand coming up to grab Mo Ran’s wrist. He opens his mouth a few times, but his thin face forces him into silence. Still, the idea of shutting Mo Ran out doesn’t feel great either.
He hesitates for a few moments before his eyes fall to Mo Ran’s chest, half-covered by his sleep robes. Chu Wanning slowly raises his hand, brushing his fingertips against the fabric. There’s a fine tremor running through his hand, one that he tries to work out by flexing his fingers once before he rests his palm over Mo Ran’s chest, where—where they’d—
Mo Ran grabs the hand resting against his chest and squeezes it. Chu Wanning looks up, and he sees understanding in Mo Ran’s eyes.
“I’m here,” Mo Ran whispers.
“But you weren’t,” Chu Wanning chokes out nonsensically.
Mo Ran’s gaze goes soft. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
Mo Ran shrugs, looking down at their hands. He weaves their fingers together, his hand engulfing Chu Wanning. It’s soothing, and some remnant of the panic from before settles at the gesture. It’s incredible, all the different ways Mo Ran’s touch affects him, and how it never stops surprising him. Part of him hopes it never will.
“I’m here now,” Mo Ran reassures him. “I’m never leaving again.”
“I know,” Chu Wanning huffs, frustrated. “It’s not worth talking about.”
Mo Ran frowns. “I think it is. Shizun, is this what has been keeping you up?”
Chu Wanning clenches his jaw. “I should be able to get over it. As you said, you’re here now.” He avoids answering Mo Ran’s question, but the answer is clear.
He hears a sigh, and he thinks that’s it, he’s done with me and my baggage. When Mo Ran lets go of his hand, cold fear freezes Chu Wanning’s blood. He expects Mo Ran to step away, to leave out of the door, annoyed and fed up, but instead Mo Ran grabs Chu Wanning’s face, stepping close enough that Chu Wanning has to tilt his chin up to look at him.
“Sometimes, I—I still dream about you dying,” Mo Ran admits hoarsely. “I dream about the moment when Xue Meng told me, when I realized I would never get the chance to talk to you again. I wake up in the night and I—I have to hold you, and reassure myself that you’re okay.”
There’s a deep-seated pain etched on Mo Ran’s features, something old and worn, the echo of the same grief that haunts Chu Wanning. He sees his own pain in Mo Ran, and he hates it. He would give anything to save him from it.
All those times he must have woken in the dark, Chu Wanning asleep beside him. All the times he was scared and hurting, and Chu Wanning hadn’t known.
“Mo Ran…” he whispers.
Mo Ran smiles sadly. “Would you say that I should get over it?”
“No,” he says, his hands coming up to hold Mo Ran’s forearms.
“Then, Shizun, can I please ask you to lend the same kindness to yourself?”
How could he? Mo Ran deserves this kindness, but Chu Wanning…
“I’m supposed to be happy,” he murmurs shamefully. “We’re here, and we’re supposed to be okay.”
“We can go through hard times and still be happy,” Mo Ran replies. “Happiness also means that I get to hold you after a nightmare. Happiness means you get to come to me if you’re struggling. It means we’ve been through a lot, but that we have each other to get through it. You don’t have to do it alone, Shizun.”
Chu Wanning blinks furiously, holding back a fresh wave of tears. He clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. “When did you become so reasonable?” he asks.
Mo Ran chuckles. “I had a good teacher,” he says, bending forward to kiss Chu Wanning’s cheek. “So, what do you say? Will you let me help?”
I want to, Chu Wanning thinks. He has been alone for so long, used to dealing with his pain by himself. It’s a habit that’s hard to break, but Mo Ran is right: they aren’t alone anymore, and if he keeps acting like he is, he’s just going to let his fear control him. He has to stop holding up an unrealistic idea of happiness, and appreciate what he has instead: a life with Mo Ran. It won’t be perfect and devoid of struggles, but it’ll still be good.
He smiles at Mo Ran, hesitant but sincere, before wrapping his arms around him. Mo Ran sighs and holds him close. They stay like that for a few moments, tangled in each other, Mo Ran’s furnace of a body enveloping Chu Wanning’s lithe figure.
“I’ll try,” Chu Wanning relents eventually.
“All right,” Mo Ran accepts, kissing his temple. “That’s good, Shizun, you’re good.”
Chu Wanning shudders involuntarily, and then he tries to cover his reaction by lightly punching Mo Ran’s back. “Wake me up the next time you have a nightmare,” he commands primly.
Mo Ran pulls back with an amused laugh. “But you look so cute when you’re sleeping.”
“Mo Ran!” Chu Wanning hisses, his cheeks flaming.
“Okay, okay,” Mo Ran relents. “But don’t blame me when you’re tired because you didn’t get enough sleep.”
Chu Wanning crosses his arms mulishly. “It doesn’t matter if it’s for you,” he mutters.
He gets a kiss for that, a slow and sweet one. Chu Wanning gives in easily to Mo Ran’s lips, fisting his hands in the lapels of Mo Ran’s robes. Mo Ran squeezes his waist, his thumb caressing his skin over fabric; there’s something casually possessive about it that has Chu Wanning’s breath hitching.
“I love you,” Mo Ran murmurs, pulling back. This sweet, caring disciple of his. Chu Wanning can’t help but smile, flustered but grateful.
“I love you, too,” he mutters, tugging Mo Ran towards him again, their mouths finding each other easily.
The sun outside has already risen, dappled sunlight filtering through the window. They kiss and hold each other and stumble towards the bed as the world outside gets ready for a new day, both of them here to see it, against all odds.