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Lan arrives in Shotar with a high fever. He caught the occasional flu as a child, but as an adult, he rarely contracts anything worse than a common cold. This — heat flushed down his skin, his mind askew — is not typical for him. He has only the presence of mind to ensure Woon is sent somewhere proper before the Shotarians leave Lan in an empty meeting room.
Quarantine, the Shotarian aide said with a polite detachment. Will be necessary for five days unless the illness can be cured. For now, they would send for a doctor.
Perhaps, Hilo was right. Perhaps, coming to Shotar was a mistake.
He shakes off the thought, reminding himself what this meeting means for the clan. The one benefit of his near-death in the harbor was Shae’s return. Though he would have never pressured her to take up the role of Weather Man, her return confirmed that she was the missing arm of No Peak, and with her advice, the clan has begun to interact more with the outside world. He still has to grapple with the foreign holdings of jade. He still has to find a way to cull the wretched effects of SN1.
A molten heat flows through Lan’s belly.
He presses his fists against his burning forehead and will himself to breathe. They were accompanied by a Shotarian agent to the capital city. Could he have contracted this illness from him? It would be a quick incubation period, but anything is possible.
Stilling, Lan recognizes the telltale signs of arousal. Like any boy, he had his fair share of inopportune boners, but those stopped when he reached adulthood. Ever since Eyni left him, arousal has felt fleeting. Finicky.
But despite his confusion, his cock stays half-hard. He adjusts his pants and pauses at approaching footsteps and a sense of their owner’s amusement.
An armored man in a black helmet pushes open the door and strolls inside. He looks like a Shotarian guard, the kind assigned inside vaults or to powerful people’s offices. He bows at the waist ninety degrees, crisp, before he seats himself in the chair beside Lan.
“Kaul-san,” the man — the doctor? — greets in Kekonese. The Shotarian honorific feels out of place.
Lan starts to rise out of politeness.
But the man waves him down, amusement tingeing his tone. “Don’t strain yourself.”
Lan rises to bow shallowly and sit again. “Are you the physician?”
“I’m here to help,” the man reassures him. “I’m Yoshida Kenta.”
Lan tries to thank Kenta when heat spikes through his groin. Only years of discipline keep him from curling over his middle before this Shotarian stranger. His hand tightens around the table’s edge, a sheen of sweat building on his brow. Is this natural? Could he have been sabotaged? But what purpose would giving him an aphrodisiac serve?
Kenta drags off his helmet, and the man is well-formed — no, dizzyingly attractive.
Lan folds away the thought. He does not consider Kenta’s bow-shaped lips and his expressive brows above his dark upturned eyes. His gaze pierces him. “What’s wrong, Lan?”
Lan reels at the breach of decorum. He speaks cooly, despite his raging boner hidden by the table, despite an attractive Shotarian calling him presumptuously by his given name. “Yoshida. When can I expect the physician’s arrival?”
“You don’t need a physician,” Kenta says. “It’s funny. We’d never seen heat fever this bad until jade-wearing Kekonese appeared on our shores. Something that was a mild inconvenience, solved by just a little, well, self-indulgence, became overblown into a life-threatening illness. One that requires outside help.” He wets his lips. “I should warn you that your second option is death by fever.”
Lan interprets Kenta’s words with detached speed. If Kenta is to be believed, Lan needs to have sex to cull this sickness. Despite his preference for privacy when it comes to matters of intimacy, he’ll accept Kenta’s explanation. He can’t exactly deny the heat in his groin. He says, “I assume you have charm girls here in Shotar.”
Kenta leans against his hand. His dark hair falls across his forehead, his smile dangerous. “Better to handle it in-house than have it leaked that Kaul Lan, Pillar of No Peak, needed to be fucked in the ass, don’t you think?”
Lan starts to object when the pain rips through his belly. He crumples over the table, breathing hard, his vision blurring out. Lan has been struck, stabbed, drugged, and drowned, but the pain has never been like this — heated and pervasive and throbbing horribly still through his lower half. He senses Kenta’s hand before it touches him. Perceiving no ill will, he doesn’t try to stop him. He doesn’t know if he could.
Kenta slides his ungloved hand under Lan’s rumpled collar. He soothes. “You’re holding out well for a man who wears so much jade.” His ungloved hand cools the agony until Lan is only panting lightly against the wooden table.
Kenta seems unaffected by his jade.
“Do you understand me now?” he asks in a tone more authoritative than anyone in Kekon dares to take on with Lan. His groin warms tellingly.
Lan shouldn’t allow another man to bend him like this. He tries to shove up from the table.
Kenta strokes his callused fingertips along Lan’s nape.
Lan moans softly at the wash of pleasure. His ear tips warm, his composure slipping. He cannot toss away his dignity. He readies himself to throw off Kenta for good.
Kenta says, “Like I said, I’m here to help you.” He lets go. “So stand up and strip, Lan.”
Agonized by the loss, Lan crumples down to the floor, his breathing labored.
“You’re stronger than most of your kind, aren’t you?” Kenta says, cool but expectant. He sits with his legs open in his chair, propped up against the table. “The sooner you agree to this, the sooner you can be done.”
Lan clutches the first button of his shirt, strained. “I’ll risk waiting. There must be women who could offer their services. I’m not—” His thoughts swirl horribly. He needs Kenta to touch him again, just for now, and then they can send for a girl.
Kenta takes a knee before Lan, his brows tipped up. He’s enjoying this. “Aren’t what?” He tips up Lan’s chin. “You know I saw the way you looked at me earlier?”
Lan bites back a humiliating noise with Kenta’s firm hand on him. He attempts to school his expression, but under Kenta’s dark gaze, Lan finds his lips parting, a desperate pink flushing across his cheeks. He breaks, sounding more breathless than he intends, “Should we go to a room then?”
“You want to walk out into that hall, looking like this? You look like a perfect slut right now, Lan: your shirt low, your face flushed, your pants like this.” He lays his shoe flat against Lan’s cock and pushes in.
Lan pants, fighting through the haze. He manages, “You’re… You’re right.”
“Mm, about how you look like a whore?” Kenta begins unbuttoning Lan’s shirt, running his hand languidly down Lan’s chest.
“No, I—” Lan melts against Kenta’s hand, his thoughts dissipating.
Kenta toys with his chest, his fingers tugging on his pert nipple. Every little brush and tug is amplified by jade. Every time he had sex with Eyni and every time he has sex with Yunni, he sheds his jade beforehand out of courtesy. But he wears everything now.
Lan feels like he’s losing his mind. He lets Kenta undress him, pressing his chest into Kenta’s hands and searching his handsome face. Would it be so bad to let Kenta take him? No one has to know that Lan has ached for men, too, before this — that he let a Shotarian have him. He whimpers under a particularly hard twist to his hardened nipples, his mind hiccuping over the sight of his dusky buds pinched between Kenta’s sure fingers.
Kenta kisses him, licking his lips.
Lan kisses him eagerly back.
Kenta slides his hand through Lan’s hair and grips it. He murmurs against his mouth, “You have such a pretty body. So responsive. Must be all that jade on you, making you desperate, making you needy.” He squeezes Lan through his pants.
Lan ruts his hips up into Kenta’s hand, overwhelmed by animal hunger. Shame pulses through him as he falls apart under another man’s hands. Has he really wanted this all along?
Kenta undoes Lan’s belt and pants, working them down off his hips. He breaks the kiss. “Stand up, Lan.”
Lan stumbles to his feet. He can hear Kenta’s racing heartbeat and his blood rushing to his cock. He can smell the musk of Kenta’s arousal and the tang of his effort. He wants to lick down Kenta’s collarbones. Press their hips flush together.
Kenta steps into Lan, pulling down his pants and underwear. He kisses his shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, if you’re good for me. Lay back on the table and spread your legs, alright?”
Lan hesitates, flushing against his will. “Yoshida, it’s not—”
“Call me Kenta,” he says.
Lan struggles to speak through the mind-numbing want. “I won’t be fucked. Kenta. We can use our hands, or—”
Kenta circles his hand around Lan’s hard cock, murmuring, “But fucking you will be the most effective.”
Lan drops his head against Kenta’s shoulder, shuddering at the contact. His hand on him feels like nothing he’s ever felt before. He moans as Kenta starts to flick his thumb over his tip, smearing his pre-cum across him and smoothing out his thumb’s path.
“Look at you. So wet already, Lan.” Kenta walks him back against the meeting table, stroking his cock slowly.
The wood is cool against his bare ass.
Kenta cups his ass, massaging the warm flesh in hand. “Be good. Lay back.” He shoves Lan backwards.
Lan slams back against the table. He tenses, prepared to buck Kenta off, calling up Strength, but the instant the jade answers, his arousal flares only hotter. Should he have taken his jade off? Will the illness only return the instant he puts it back on? A pinprick of fear recalls his near slip into the Itches, but this is not that. This is only want, burning incandescent, within his core.
Kenta pins his wrists overhead, stroking his hand possessively down Lan’s side.
Lan aches, his cock leaking perplexingly against his stomach. At the sight of himself, naked and strewn out on the table, another man caging him, his face burns. He could still fight Kenta without jade. He cannot lay here and let Kenta fuck him like a girl. He takes no issue with men with other predilections, but Lan is the Pillar.
Kaul Lan does not have stray thoughts. He does not risk the clan’s image over something as inconsequential as attraction. Whatever he’s felt for other men in the strength of their shoulders, the drip of sweat down their necks, or the clasp of an eager hand on his neck — it’s momentary. It’s not anything like love.
Past the knot in his chest, he says, “You can touch me, but no more than that.”
Kenta kisses up Lan’s stomach.
Lan shivers under Kenta’s warm lips and clever tongue and holds the table. His cock drips against his jade belt, heat building inside him, like it’s not quite enough. Like he needs Kenta to touch more of him. He shuts his eyes against the visual of Kenta watching him through dark lashes, heat seared through his gaze. He can hear Kenta’s pulse. He can sense his returning want, and it loops confusingly through his lower belly.
Kenta licks along Lan’s chest, tweaking his nipple with one hand and avoiding his cock entirely.
Kenta’s mouth is hot around his tit. He’s never had anyone touch his chest like this: lick and suck and pinch his nipples like a woman’s, but as Kenta’s teeth close lightly around his bud, Lan cannot bring himself to care. He bites back his noises.
Kenta smirks, rising up and thumbing along Lan’s lips. He slips his thumb past them, saying gently, “No one has to know, Lan. You’re dripping after I’ve only played with your chest. When I’ve barely touched you.” He slips his hand between Lan’s legs and presses his palm against his intimate place. “It doesn’t have to be dirty or weak. You’ll take my cock well. You’ll feel good.”
Lan feels unbalanced as Kenta holds his tongue down with his thumb and touches him below. He cannot answer like this. He feels warm and hazy and suddenly desperate. Perception instructs that letting Kenta inside him would thrill Kenta and fan the flames of his arousal even higher. His fevered body, amplified still by the jade, urges him to answer. Mutely, he opens his legs and sets his ankles up by his ass on the table.
Kenta purrs, “You’re so perfect, Lan. So pretty. So strong.” He slides two more fingers into his mouth. “Suck.”
Warming under the praise, Lan sucks around Kenta’s fingers, tasting himself and salt on the roughened skin.
Kenta strokes Lan’s chest, seemingly mesmerized by Lan taking his fingers. “That’s good.” He slips his fingers out of Lan’s mouth and begins to circle his hole.
The wet warmth, the knowledge that it was his mouth on Kenta’s fingers, has Lan throbbing against his fingertips. He breathes in and out. He tries to relax.
Kenta fucks him with two fingers.
Lan covers his mouth with his hand, stifling his moan. His body feels strange, overheated and tingling, his flesh pulsing around the foreign sensation of Kenta’s fingers in his ass. He drops his hand and rises up on his elbow. “Kenta, wait—”
Kenta presses his thigh flat against the table. He drives his fingers deeper into him, curling them wickedly.
Off-kilter from the fever and the need, Lan drops back against the table. His legs fall apart, and Kenta’s fingers pump into his soft warm hole. He gasps at the onslaught of feeling.
“You’re very flexible.” Kenta strokes his thigh, pinching the pale flesh on its inner side. He starts to scissors his fingers apart. “And your pussy is opening up so well for me.”
Lan tightens around Kenta’s fingers at his obscene description, confusing mortifying want flooding through him.
Kenta thumbs along the velvet flesh of his balls and strokes inside him. “I really do prefer men like you, Lan, who’ve buried every want until I touch them right.” He fucks his fingers into Lan’s sweet spot. “You fall apart so sweetly.”
Lan arches soundlessly off the table. Panting, red flushing through his face, he tries to regain control of his body.
But Kenta rubs along the bundle of nerves again. The jade crisps every ridge on Kenta’s fingertips and the slight drag of his short nails against Lan’s most sensitive place.
Lan whimpers and squeezes around him, blubbering out, “Kenta, Kenta…”
He glances down at himself. His mind wipes at the sight of himself, naked, in just his jade, a milky line of pre-cum dripping down his belt’s side. Kenta’s hand slides in and out between his legs, and his own thighs tense with each entry. Only his cock is hard and flushed and untouched.
“I think you can come just from being fucked here.” Kenta pulls his fingers out with a filthy wet noise. He pushes his thumb into Lan’s newly stretched hole. “I’m going to fuck you now, Lan.”
Kenta pulls his cock out of his briefs. He spits on his own hand and strokes himself twice, pushing down Lan’s inner thigh and spreading him further apart. “It’s such a shame that you can’t see yourself.”
Without hesitation, Kenta begins pressing the head of his cock inside Lan.
Lan’s eyes widen. This is nothing like fucking a woman. This is nothing like a hand on his dick. Kenta feels hot and huge and slick as he pushes into him.
“You look so handsome in all your jade. And your pussy is just sucking me in.” Kenta traces his finger around Lan’s stretching rim. “Do you feel that, Lan? You’re taking me so well.” He rolls his hips forward.
Flushing, Lan leaks under the praise. He tried to relax around Kenta and take him in deeper. The contact is enough to transform the feverish agony into molten pleasure, coiling tighter in his belly the more of Kenta’s cock he takes.
Kenta slides into him until they’re flush against each other, his balls resting against Lan’s ass. Kenta rubs circles along his inner thighs.
Lan breathes hard under the fullness, his body forced open in unfamiliar ways. He tries to clench experimentally only to feel heat and want and flesh inside him. He makes a soft noise behind his hand, blushing hotly. He drops his hand long enough to say, his voice roughened, “You can move.”
Kenta leans over Lan and hooks Lan’s knees over his shoulders, pressing his legs up and open.
Lan’s face burns as he’s exposed even further with Kenta’s cock buried in his ass. “Is this position necessary? I—”
Kenta drags his hips back and fucks him hard.
Lan cries out. He hooks his ankles along Kenta’s back, his thighs burning, and struggles to take Kenta’s relentless thrusting. Each plunge of his cock feels a thousandfold hotter and thicker, his cloth-armored front brushing torturously along Lan’s bare cock.
Kenta kisses him, pounding into him.
Lan kisses him back. He runs his hands through Kenta’s thick dark hair and breathes in the aroma of exertion and lemongrass on his neck. He angles his hips up, meeting Kenta’s thrusts and losing himself in the bursting pleasure.
Kenta breaks away. His dark eyes are alight, his lips wet and swollen. “You’re gorgeous, Lan. Let me hear you.” He speaks to Lan like one would to their delicate lover, and the recognition burns through Lan.
He bites his lip as Kenta fucks him.
Kenta adjusts his angle and fucks into his sweet spot.
Lan moans, high and sharp. Heat flushing up his ears, he struggles to adjust as Kenta thrusts relentlessly into the same spot, punching breathless little noises out of him. Ashamed and overheated, he clamps his jaw shut.
Kenta slides his thumb over his lips, urging, “Open.”
Lan obeys.
Kenta pets the inside of his mouth, murmuring, “It’s okay. You’re so pretty when you’re moaning around my cock.” He drags his cock head deliberately slowly along Lan’s concentration of nerves. “Forget about the rest of it.”
Lan’s wanton sounds slip out around Kenta’s thumb. He squeezes around him and jolts across the table with each thrust. He feels close.
Kenta unhooks Lan’s legs from his shoulders. He spreads Lan open and pins his legs against the table on either side of him. His brow creasing in concentration, he begins to nail his prostate with every smooth quick thrust.
Lan curves off the table, inadvertently fucking himself deeper onto Kenta’s cock. He moans and trembles around him. Heat flushes through his face.
“Let go,” Kenta orders. “Be good, Lan, and come around my cock.”
Whining, Lan feels the heat slam through his body. He comes all over his belt, his limbs tingling under the strength of his release. He finds himself clenching and clenching around Kenta’s still-hard cock.
When he returns to himself, Kenta is petting his dampened hair affectionately. He untangles himself from Lan, saying, “Turn over, Lan.”
Lan does as he’s told, blissed-out by his orgasm’s aftershocks. He’s never come so hard in his life. Certainly, he’s masturbated while wearing jade before, but to come under someone else’s touch, with jade on, was indescribable. He lies on his stomach against the table.
From behind Lan, Kenta kneads his ass appreciatively. He pulls his cheeks apart and spits on his hole, sliding back inside him.
Lan arches back into Kenta, his nerves firing off in shock. He’s horribly sensitive after coming once, and he cries out, “Wait, please, I can’t—”
“Just a little longer. You can take it, Lan. I know you can.” Kenta fucks him roughly. Each thrust brushes coincidentally along his sweet spot, but compared to before, it’s clear that Kenta is chasing his own climax.
Being relegated to a warm hole for Kenta warms confusingly through his cock. Shocked, he finds himself hardening again. As Kenta fucks him, his dick brushes against the table, and his hands twitch against the wood. Should Lan really bend himself over and offer his ass to a Shotarian man? Should he have allowed this?
Kenta strokes Lan off in time with his thrusts. His hand is warm and rough along his sensitive cock, his arousal slamming through Lan in tidal waves, Lan’s Perception cranking everything up again.
Lan whimpers uselessly against the table. He pulses around Kenta.
It isn’t long before Kenta pulls out and comes across Lan’s lower back, the warm spray dripping down the seam of his ass. He rubs his thumb rapidly over Lan’s cock slit.
Lan comes for the second time across the floor, gasping and filthy and spent. He wants to lay down and sleep for the remainder of the day. He wants to forget this ever happened. The fever’s fog has vanished all at once, and though his first instinct is anger, he locks it back down and assesses the facts. Sex did cure his illness. No matter how disrespectfully, Kenta has done him a favor, and Lan’s own actions now, while humiliating, must only be a byproduct of the illness.
Lan stands up from the table, his skin sticky with perspiration. He swipes his hair out of his face and does not think about how Kenta’s fingers felt brushing his hair back from his temples. He clears his throat. “I think the fever has broken.”
Despite his easy smile, Kenta’s underlying concern doesn’t evade Lan’s notice. He doesn’t voice it. “That seems to be the case.”
Lan picks up his clothes, trying to ignore Kenta’s cum dripping down his ass and legs. He feels vaguely sick to his stomach. “Do you have tissues?”
Kenta walks over to the counter inlaid into a wall and returns with a box. He picks out a few, saying, “Let me.”
Lan holds his hand out. “I’ll do it.” He wishes Kenta would leave. He cannot parse this nauseous hollow within him. He doesn’t want to look at Kenta right now.
Kenta acquiesces, handing Lan the box. He sits atop the table and faces the wall instead of Lan. “My inclinations are known, and I’m immune to jade, so I volunteered when they said you were exhibiting symptoms. But I enjoyed this.” He still doesn’t look at him. “I’d like to see you again while you’re here, Lan.”
Lan pauses cleaning his legs to soak in Kenta’s profile: his tall nose and his pursed lips. He imagines inviting Kenta back to his room, letting Kenta take him again on a proper bed, and maybe be held by him afterwards. A short laugh bubbles up his throat. He swallows it down to a disbelieving smile. In what world can he indulge when he has yet to heal from Eyni’s betrayal — when the Pillar cannot be this?
“I won’t be doing this again,” Lan says. “But I appreciate your help.”
Kenta pulls out a pen from his pocket and takes Lan’s wrist, scrawling digits onto the skin above his jade cuffs.
Lan’s brows raise at Kenta’s boldness. For some reason, he doesn’t stop him. He owes the man civility after his assistance at least.
“If you change your mind.” Kenta kisses Lan’s fingertips and drops his hand.
His ears warming again, Lan says, “I don’t think I will.” He starts to redress.
Once he’s clothed, Kenta slides back on his helmet. He turns to leave.
“Take care,” Lan says.
Kenta turns back, his helmet shielding his expression. “You, too.” He trudges out the door.
Lan leans against the table and stares at the newly closed door.