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Chi Cheng didn't grunt as he hit the wall. He didn't make a sound, or a snark comment. Chengyu pinned him, their bodies nearly flush, and ground his cheek harder into the surface.
Chi Cheng had always been the better fighter. He could get away if he tried.
“You shouldn't have fucked him,” Chengyu spat out. Likely the first time he'd ever expressed such a sentiment to his longtime friend and rival.
“He came to me.”
Semantics. “You shouldn't have hurt him. Treated him that way. He's not like yours, he needs–”
Chi Cheng scoffed. “Since when do I have a reputation for being gentle? He knew what he was getting. Bet he was looking forward to it, with you being such a pussy. He'll be fantasizing about my hands on him for–”
Chengyu tossed him to the ground. An awkward tangle of limbs, still leaning halfway up the wall. Still not moving. Since when did Chi Cheng stay where Chengyu put him?
Since their reconciliation, maybe. Even if the bastard was currently doing his best to break it.
Chi Cheng's only response was to tilt his chin up at him. Unconcerned.
Chengyu wanted nothing more than to wipe that stony confidence off his face. It felt natural and right to slip a hand into his hair, jerk him forward so he was forced onto his knees. Chi Cheng caught himself on one palm, and it came up covered in fine grains of dirt.
Chi Cheng tilted an eyebrow. No worry, still, but a hint of intrigue.
“Does it make you feel better?” He asked. “Will it help to beat me up? Doesn't change that he wanted me.”
“Yes,” Chengyu answered. It would help. But also, “I'm not beating you up.”
“Oh?” Another quirk of his lips. “Care to let me go then?”
“No.” Chengyu shook his fist full of hair, and Chi Cheng's head moved with it. “You owe me.”
Chi Cheng scoffed. “For what? Yours are always mine too.”
Except he hadn't been. Not this time. And Chi Cheng owed him for so much more than that.
“He's mine. And you're mine. You owe me for pretending otherwise.”
Chi Cheng's tongue swiped over his lip. So many faces to convey the same derision. His eyes flicked down for the briefest moment, and then back to Chengyu's, defiant. “You're full of shit, gēge.”
It hit him like a blow. Chengyu reeled, internally and out, almost dropping his hand. Chi Cheng hadn't called him that in years, almost a decade. The way he said it now was slimy and almost appalling, but it seeped deliciously into his brain. Gēge. Gēge.
He hadn't even had a plan yet, not more than a vague collection of impulses he knew he wouldn't hold back on. And yet Chi Cheng was already there too, goading him into it.
Whether that was his intent or not, there weren't any takebacks now.
Chi Cheng smirked up at him, like he knew exactly what he had done, and Chengyu was out of patience.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded, free hand already working at his fly.
Chi Cheng's head pulled back slightly. Surprise? Offense? But then he tilted it to the side, and the smugness shuttered back over his face.
“Gonna take advantage of me, gēge?”
Again it sent a shiver down his back, no matter that the layer of shock was gone.
“You owe me,” Chengyu repeated simply, pulling his face directly into his crotch. Chi Cheng had to shift his knees wider so as not to overbalance.
Chi Cheng huffed, a warm breath fanning directly over Chengyu's dick. “What if I decide to bite?”
It was Chengyu's turn to scoff. “I'll whip your sorry ass.” It would be a nice excuse.
Chi Cheng opened his mouth again, to protest or goad, but the syllable was immediately muddled by Chengyu's fingers on his tongue.
“Open,” he said again, levering his jaw down. As soon as the hole was big enough, he stuffed himself inside, leaving only one finger pulling at the corner of his mouth. Contrary to his threat, Chi Cheng kept his teeth out of the way.
Chengyu pushed into his cheek just because he could, running his thumb over the outside to feel the bulge. He looked so good like this. Felt good too, warm around him, the thick pad of his tongue, the sharp bone of his jaw in Chengyu’s hand. He imagined jerking himself off; that face – the one everyone else knew as a dangerous snake – covered in his spend, dripping down over his puffy lips.
But Chengyu intended to draw it out more than that. This wasn’t his endgame tonight.
It’s not like Chi Cheng ever made things quick and easy.
He shifted closer, aiming for his friend’s throat, tilting his head to the perfect angle. Not that it would make a difference. Chi Cheng didn’t spend much time on his knees, and he’d never been good at this. Wouldn't be this time either, not unless there was something Chengyu didn’t know. And of course, he prided himself on knowing all of it.
As expected, Chi Cheng grunted at him before he was even most of the way inside. Chengyu sighed, put upon. You’d think a man who had encountered so many dicks could manage to suck one.
He pushed farther, tightening his hand in Chi Cheng’s hair. The pressure around his tip made him gasp, the thick sound of a gag only stoking the heat in his stomach. The ‘o’ of Chi Cheng’s lips shrunk though, and those teeth he really didn’t trust.
“Hey!” He berated. “Open up. Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”
Chi Cheng glared, tried in vain to pull away, and, failing that, to breathe. Choked on his own phlegm.
Anyone else, and Chengyu would probably feel a bit bad, pull back and give them a minute. Anyone else would be trying to impress him, looking up with round eyes, embarrassed at their incompetence.
Chi Cheng’s eyes were starting to wet, but he was in no way sorry. So Chengyu held his place, creeping forward, and then – fuck it – shoving. Hard enough to bruise the throat already spasming around him. Chi Cheng’s eyes closed, leaking. Another noise, a sopping strangled cough, and Chengyu wondered if he was going to throw up on him.
His hands were scrabbling at Chengyu’s legs now. His eyes flew back open in panic. It didn’t feel that good anymore, the throttle around him far too tight, except for the satisfaction flowing through his veins.
He’d hated, hated, knowing what Chi Cheng had done. Partially because he really did care this time; he hadn’t wanted this boy borrowed or hurt. But mostly for the very reason Chi Cheng had taunted him with – What if that was actually what his lover wanted? Would he be left with nothing, once again, because of Chi Cheng’s madness and greed?
Of course not. He would fix it. But that moment of doubt made this well worth it.
He pulled away. Dropped Chi Cheng to the ground to hack his lungs out. Within a few moments, he was glaring daggers, uncowed, but he couldn’t catch his breath even enough to curse.
He spat one more time, chest still heaving. Gritted out a few choice words, voice barely there and coated in gravel. “Bastard.” He was growing louder. “I should have–”
Chengyu caught him by the throat and shoved him back against the wall. Chi Cheng aborted his cursing to swing at him, but it was weak, and Chengyu caught it, turning him, twisting. Chest to the wall, one arm bent high, just enough pressure for his grimace to break through. The other hand Chengyu easily cuffed in the small of his back.
“You fucking–”
Chi Cheng hissed as his thrashing tugged at his shoulder. Chengyu was unmoved. How many times had he taken somebody against a wall, squirming like this? Enough that he didn't deserve to be such a fucking wuss about it.
Chengyu stepped between his legs. Leaned close to speak directly into his ear. He didn’t bother reprimanding. “Take your pants off.”
He let his right arm free. Chi Cheng swore, still tossing himself against Chengyu’s weight, but his hand went to his belt. The buckle clicked as he slipped the leather through.
“Give that here.” Fabric hissed as Chengyu pulled it free, buckle in his fist. Chi Cheng’s breath stuttered, but he went for the button next. One, two tries, the fabric slipping. He got it through, and his pants began to slide down, catching at his spread thighs.
“Did you hit him?”
“What?”
Chengyu ran the leather against his leg. “What did you hit him with? This?”
“N- no.” Chi Cheng swallowed. Came back stronger. “My hand. The bitch was too soft to–”
Chengyu shook him. “I don’t believe you.” The fool didn’t know that he’d seen the marks. “Lie to me again,” he dared.
Chi Cheng shook his head. “Just a few.”
“A few. Surely you can hold still for a few?”
He straightened. Shuffled his stance. Chengyu waited out the quiet, gave him time to decide.
“Anything for you, gēge,” he finally pronounced, entirely overdone.
“Good,” Chengyu murmured. He bit his earlobe and Chi Cheng twitched in surprise. Or maybe more. Chengyu reached around to palm him and found him warm and hard. Moist at the tip, even.
Chengyu chuckled. “You like it so much. Everyone fooled but me.”
Chi Cheng muffled a groan into his arm. Chengyu tightened his fist, pumping slowly. He considered stepping away, turning Chi Cheng’s backside red with stripes. Reparations.
But that was more Chi Cheng’s thing. Chengyu was here to get what he wanted, not to make it even. And besides, when he got like this, the man was as M as he was S. No, it would only serve his sanctimony.
Decision made, Chengyu opened both his fists, letting the belt fall and releasing Chi Cheng’s warmth. Instead, he cupped his hand below his chin. “Spit.”
Chi Cheng grunted in disgust.
“Up to you,” Chengyu offered with a shrug.
“There’s lube in the–”
“I didn’t ask.”
He gave it a few beats. Chi Cheng spat into his hand, a small glob. A string connected back to his lips and then broke, wetting his chin.
Chengyu hummed in satisfaction and removed the hand to wrap it around himself. It was nothing really. A bit of stickiness but hardly enough to spread. He pumped himself a few times anyway, let his attention drift towards relieving his pent up frustration. And admiring the ass before him, lifting up the shirttail to afford a better view.
He had every freedom to take him. This dry, it would be hard on them both, but he thought back to his not-quite-boyfriend's puffy entrance, still flushed hours later, and he was willing to endure.
But then, Chi Cheng ruined it. Straightening, turning sharply, and accompanying it with another wild swing. Without Chengyu's hands on him, his obedience had drained, arrogance returned. Disappointing. But Chengyu could wield a strong hand.
Chengyu slammed his torso forward into the wall, palm across his nape.
“You said you'd be good for gēge.”
“I'll be good for your mother, you pervert–”
He was once again struggling in Chengyu's hold, lashing out, forcing Chengyu to push harder, grinding his face into the brick. He struggled, growled, fought, and cursed, but his legs were still pinned, and all he achieved were glancing blows. The one against his ribs smarted, and Chengyu switched his hold to the front of his neck, squeezing in from the sides. For a few moments, the tantrum continued, but eventually Chi Cheng began to settle and Chengyu eased his hold to allow a breath, then another, timing the pounding of his head how he saw fit.
He allowed Chi Cheng to slump forward, and he caught himself against the wall without so much as a grumble. Chengyu couldn't help but notice the toned arch of his back, hidden under his shirt but just as lovely as any twink he'd ever had. He let his hands relocate to his waist, appreciating the slope of his hips as he pulled them back. No reason to wait to get inside.
He grunted when Chi Cheng threw his head back, narrowly missing his chin. Not eager to crack their skulls together, Chengyu backed up, and Chi Cheng used the freedom to lunge. Not away, but at him. His shoulder caught Chengyu in the chest, and he attempted a take down, but Chengyu wasn’t here to wrestle, and Chi Cheng was sloppy. Nearly suspiciously so.
It was a simple enough matter to step on one of his sagging pantlegs and stand his ground. His arms he clasped around Chi Cheng, in a rough hug. Chi Cheng stumbled, tripping over fabric and still gasping for oxygen. Chengyu took the opportunity to strip his shirt, grabbing it at the collar and yanking until the few buttons holding it were forced to pop. He dropped his support, and Chi Cheng fell to the ground in tatters.
He glared, looking so ridiculously offended, landing on his bare ass. Chengyu suppressed his laugh, but his amusement was evident.
It was unfamiliar, this manner of power over him. Chi Cheng was always put together, held himself like he had the advantage. Chengyu squatted down, touched his face. Something must have caught his lip, maybe his own teeth.
“Do you want to try again? How about twenty for each time? Five more when you get in a good blow?” Chengyu spoke softly, but tried not to be too patronizing. Everyone knew Chi Cheng was an excellent fighter. Just not today.
He thought he might spit at him, but instead he looked away, taking a breath. Chengyu decided Chi Cheng might as well be naked, so he turned his attention to his shoelaces. Tugged his left shoe free, then the right, and eased each pantleg down from around his knees. Chi Cheng sucked in sharply when his hand met the underside of his thigh, but by the time Chengyu looked up, he was composed.
When they were younger, just getting used to suits and ties, they’d help each other dress. When one was impressively drunk, the other might help him out of his clothes and into bed, though they’d never speak of it in the morning. But this wasn’t either of those things.
Chengyu shook himself. Chi Cheng was an ass. He’d been agreeable only for the chance to turn it on him. And Chengyu knew those eyes that were focused on him now. Chi Cheng always was good at getting what he wanted from him, especially without using his words.
“Up.” Chengyu stood and took Chi Cheng with him, hauling him by the arm. It was three steps back to the wall, and Chi Cheng didn’t fight him on the way, or as he finished pulling his shirt from his shoulders.
“Hands here and here. They don’t leave the wall.”
Chi Cheng snorted, and Chengyu recalled that he’d seen him direct one of his boytoys in the exact same way once. He tried not to flush. It was appropriate to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Chi Cheng remained as directed, at least for now. Chengyu picked up the belt. Between the two of them, it might be less his taste, but he was still well-versed.
He gave no warning or warm-up. Chi Cheng's exposed skin was chilled in the air of the late spring night, but soon enough it would be scalding.
He placed it horizontally. A single touch of leather to skin as he was lining up, and then it was cracking down.
Chi Cheng's belt was high quality, a supple 40mm width, likely chosen for this exact purpose. It snapped in his hand with elegance. Chi Cheng withstood the blow statically and without sound. He was visibly tense, and Chengyu had many a reference of him receiving a punch or a slap in the exact same way. Much more regard for his poise than his wellbeing. A shame, but it wouldn't last.
The next, Chengyu laid beneath the first, and he was pleased to see it land nearly parallel, with only the smallest section of overlap at the end. Another below that, and Chi Cheng rocked forward with it. His fingertips dug into the wall.
Chengyu admittedly wasn't paying perfect attention to the following blow, still focused on cataloging Chi Cheng's reactions. It resolved into a diagonal, laid across the first three, with the end nearly wrapping round his hip.
Chi Cheng yelped and flinched away. But he recovered momentarily. Chengyu put a significant amount of strength behind the fifth lash before taking a pause.
The rapid rise and fall of Chi Cheng's breath was the only evidence of his pain. That and the raised red lines. Chengyu squeezed his ass, which was indeed warmer than minutes before, and traced one of them. He slapped his hand down, just to hear the impact of skin on skin, and was close enough to feel Chi Cheng shudder.
His spine was the curved outline of a river begging to be followed. Chengyu allowed his hand to leave his ass and trail upwards, all the way to the base of his neck, into the short threads of his hair. “Relax,” he admonished.
Chi Cheng's voice came back toxic. “What, while you're whipping me? Am I supposed to smile and say ‘thank you, gēge’ too?”
Chengyu sighed. “It wouldn't be the worst idea.” Except keeping him in the moment, forcing him into shame, wasn't exactly what Chengyu wanted. He would only fight it all the more.
With one final scrape of nails against his scalp, Chengyu stepped away. Chi Cheng knew exactly what to expect this time, so he let him have it. By necessity, the strikes began to layer, focused at the fullest part of his hips. It was only a matter of time before blood would bead.
Chengyu had watched Chi Cheng take a man apart like this more than once. Not always with a belt, not exclusively for sexual pleasure. But the principal was the same. Except today he'd stop before they truly reached that place of danger, not blaze past it.
Chi Cheng's noises grew gradually. First, only gasps and hitches of breath, nearly quelled. Soon, a sound in the back of his throat, a small grunt. The lash after that Chengyu delivered strongly, targeting his left cheek, and was rewarded with a whimper.
Between one moment and the next, Chi Cheng's shoulders dropped. The protruding lines of his scapula smoothed. He leaned into the wall for support, not pushing against it.
Chengyu almost praised him, but he didn't want to startle him out of it. He welcomed the low moan that passed through Chi Cheng's teeth. And he adjusted accordingly.
Chi Cheng was almost there now. Chengyu had been saving the last bit of padded, unblemished skin – low, where his thighs began. It would be less painful, a fresh canvas, but all the more sensitive for it. And he wouldn't hold back.
The crack was loud. Chi Cheng’s groan followed behind, no longer bitten back. Chengyu paused, long enough for him to absorb the feeling and the silence, and to consider that he might stop, before he aimed another to the same area.
This time, the sound forced from his throat resolved into a word. “Gēge.”
Chengyu smiled. Again, he thought to himself.
And again it came. The slap of flesh and the sonorous response. “Gēge. Hurts.”
Chengyu directed the lash diagonally once more, but with slightly less force. There was a tremor beginning to overtake the body before him, spreading from a quiver in his quads until it enveloped both limbs and torso.
Chengyu wondered how long until he collapsed. Imagined catching him, cushioning his fall, being the only soft thing in his world to lean on. Maybe then he’d be goddamn grateful.
He was pulled back to the moment by a questioning whimper. Chi Cheng was still standing, waiting, his skin a pleasing marble of color, sharp lines overlaying bruises beginning to form. Chengyu dropped the belt, and Chi Cheng flinched at the sound. He crowded into him, crotch to ass, hands around his waist and then smoothed downwards, where he could feel the heat diffusing into the air, and feel the shudders of response to each touch and squeeze.
“Are you done now?” he asked, near taunting. “Have you learned to be good, will you let me take…” He almost said take care of you but that’s not really what it was. Maybe a small part.
Chi Cheng didn’t respond in words, only another half-broken sound as Chi Cheng pressed him bodily into the brick. So he scraped his cropped nails over welts – eliciting a gē shaped sob – and asked again.
“Are you done? Do I need to keep going until your skin is raw and bleeding? So you don’t keep running around pretending to steal my things?” His hands were still scraping and compressing, turning red flesh to white and back again, and drawing more noises free.
This time there were other words in the mix, along with his own name: “Yes” and “No” and “Gēge” and one distinctive “Fuck you” that he made the generous decision to ignore.
It was gratifying to hear, and to feel Chi Cheng against him. He circled him in his arms, felt him warm and aroused, the scent of his skin, known to Chengyu long before his sexual awakening. Regardless of the answer Chi Cheng was trying to convey, he didn't want to wait any longer.
Chengyu left Chi Cheng against the wall – unabashedly conveying his distaste for being abandoned – while he finally shucked his pants and briefs. He took only the briefest space to consider before he spat a healthy glob into his palm, and slicked himself up one more time. It would do.
He slid himself between Chi Cheng's cheeks and clasped his hips. Felt him stiffen, perhaps in pain. He rutted forward, friction catching, and felt, there, the pucker of his hole.
He adjusted, directed with his thumb so he could spear forward into it. Only to meet resistance and slide past again. Chi Cheng mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“Won't fit.”
Chengyu chuckled. “Does that line ever work on you?”
There were grumbles of more contradiction, but Chi Cheng obviously knew he had no leg to stand on. There was a small chance he was even aware enough to be embarrassed by the cliché.
“After all these years, you're too tight to take cock? Or maybe you're just trying to get out of it. If I get inside, what'll you give me?” He was rambling. “What about if I make you like it?”
Chengyu lined up again, this time making use of the fingers of his opposite hand to help spread Chi Cheng's cheeks and isolate his hole. He approached with more intention this time, forcing past the tight ring, until he was in by a few centimeters. And a few more.
“Stop that. Relax,” he berated, as Chi Cheng's body still fought him. There was a sound, half-growl, half-wheeze, and Chengyu wasn't sure if it was dispute, indignance, or pain. Possibly all three.
Chengyu was fully seated when Chi Cheng caught his breath enough to start swearing at him. The squeeze had relented to the point that it was no longer a concerted effort to move, so he drew his hips back and rolled them forward, almost playfully. Slowly.
Chi Cheng slapped the wall. “What the fuck are you doing? Bastard, you–” Chengyu reached around to pinch the top of his cock. He sucked air in sharply enough to hiss, but continued gamely. “Are you going to fuck me or not??”
Chengyu locked his chin over Chi Cheng's shoulder, making the most of his height. “That depends on you, doesn't it?” His right hand drifted up the side of his ribcage, almost ticklish. The other dropped to run a thumb over his ballsack, not quite a threat.
“Wouldn't it be cruel of me to fuck you while it hurts? Or, wait.” He hummed as if in thought. “I'm only being as heartless as you, so it doesn't count, does it?”
In contrast to his words, he hadn't actually stilled. But Chi Cheng would want it fast and hard and over – and Chengyu would oblige – but first he wanted to take in every bit of it. The heat of his cavity, each twitch of muscle and irate utterance. This which was his alone. Who knew when he'd get the chance again.
To that end, Chengyu molded himself against Chi Cheng's back. He turned his head, lips meeting the soft flesh of his neck. His other hand he pressed to the plane of his stomach – abdomen tightly contracted, but the skin shivering under his fingers. He imagined he could feel the outline of himself. Fitting to him so well, rearranging his insides to match, until Chi Cheng wants–
It didn’t matter. Annoyed with himself, Chengyu tore away and slammed forward. Chi Cheng, unprepared, nearly folded, but the wall was there and Chengyu's hands gripped his hips. He set a punishing pace – because that’s what he wished it would be. Except even in this, Chi Cheng was winning.
Chengyu relished the noises punched out of him. Not all that different from those he heard when Chi Cheng himself was the aggressor, his heavy breathing and grunts of effort, staccatos of filthy words always pulled forward by his pleasure. But there was an underlying note of desperation. Still, he could do more.
Chengyu paused and stepped back, taking Chi Cheng with him. He pressed forcibly on his shoulder, forcing him to bend farther, at the same time shoving his feet into a wider stance. It not only made for a beautiful sight, but allowed him to push deeper and angle downwards. This time, when he thrusted forward, Chi Cheng’s whimper was unmistakable.
The friction was harsh, nearly stripping his dick, but Chengyu refused to slow. Not when Chi Cheng’s moans were resounding freely, and he was finally starting to match Chengyu’s motions. He began to clench to keep him in, not out, to bow his back and chase the feeling he wanted, heels coming off the ground.
Chengyu, of course, couldn’t make it too easy for him. He locked him back into place and grazed past the bundle of nerves, driving forward like he could reach Chi Cheng’s throat.
Chi Cheng caught on immediately, noises growing contradictory. “Asshole.” He still groaned deeply at Chengyu’s next pass. “Don’t. You. Come on.”
“What’s wrong?” Chengyu asked innocently.
Chi Cheng swore at him again.
“Why don’t you tell me what you need?”
He shook his head, and then his entire body shifted. It took Chengyu a moment to realize he’d placed all his weight into one hand, the other dropping to his dripping cock.
Unacceptable. “I’ll stop,” Chengyu threatened.
Chi Cheng shook his head again. Chengyu got the sense that he was silently laughing. “No, you won’t. I feel way too good. Don’t I, gēge?”
Chengyu took pride in the fact that he couldn’t get through a single sentence without pausing to suck in breath. He did not take pride in the way his stomach burnt hot, and his hips jumped forward, disrupting his own rhythm. He could see Chi Cheng’s bicep clench as he stroked.
Chengyu grabbed for it, snatching his arm. Chi Cheng fought him off, yanking away, but he was weak. Weak enough that when they both leaned forward in the struggle – Chengyu intending to twist his wrist behind his back, but overbalancing under the full weight of his torso – Chi Cheng’s remaining arm was not enough to hold them both up.
It wasn’t far to fall, to Chi Cheng on his hands and knees, Chengyu half draped over him, catching himself above him. But it was awkward and unwieldy, down in the hard-packed dirt, his legs straddling one of Chi Cheng’s own, dick having slid free at some point in the midst of it.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Chengyu couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream, to wither from the embarrassment or take it out on Chi Cheng just because he could.
Actually, that last option seemed the best way to go, if he ever wanted to be able to think of this night with satisfaction. It wasn’t hard to take his right arm, still tangled in his own, and pin it behind his back. Only slightly more effort to swipe the other from underneath him, until Chi Cheng’s chest and face were to the ground.
For whatever reason – maybe he had been jarred harder than Chengyu thought or was still recovering from the abrupt shift – Chi Cheng wasn’t pulling himself away. In fact, his ass was pressing into Chengyu, a shiver traveling through him. Chengyu wondered just how close he’d been.
“Look what you did,” he accused. “Well, there’s no reason to force it back in, I guess I’ll just…” Chengyu backed up enough to fit his hand between them, to fist his cock. But close enough for Chi Cheng feel what he was doing, his knuckles dragging against the damaged skin of his ass. It would be good this way too, cum spewing over the marks he already made. Obviously not as good but–
Chi Cheng was struggling now, or at least making a show of it. His hands scraped towards Chengyu, and his body lurched, but he didn’t break free.
“No. Chengyu.”
There it was. “What? This is easier, right? I’ll finish up and let you–”
“No. Fuck. You– You have to–”
He bucked upwards, and Chengyu’s breath hissed through his teeth. If he wasn’t careful, he would come now. Still, he waited, words still tumbling from Chi Cheng’s lips, but not the one he wanted.
“What’s wrong with you?? Why would– I’m– Gēge, please.”
Chengyu had stopped pretending to get off. Instead, he traced across Chi Cheng’s skin, digging in where he could see the most color. A few moments later, he finally interrupted Chi Cheng’s desperate tirade. “Please, what? Tell me what you need.”
Chi Cheng didn’t hesitate. “I need you in me. Fuck me. I need to come.”
Demanding, but it’s what they both wanted. There were so many things Chengyu could respond with: Doesn’t it hurt? Haven’t you shown you can’t be good? Shouldn’t I just let you go?
But he was out of patience too. “Hold still,” is all he said, before releasing Chi Cheng’s wrists and plunging back inside.
He wasn’t thoughtful or teasing. Didn’t stop to perfect the angle or think about how to make him beg harder. Chengyu was using his body to come. And from his strangled keening, Chi Cheng didn’t mind at all.
Chi Cheng was tight and dry. (It had to hurt.) Chengyu was already on edge.
There was only one thing he wanted but couldn’t have in this moment. To bite Chi Cheng’s lips, taste his blood between them, force it onto his tongue. He’d bite back. He always did.
But he was close, so close. Only several long moments – he opened his eyes and tried to see everything, to feel everything, to embed it in his memory just in case – and then it arrived.
Chi Cheng bore down hard. Or maybe Chengyu started spurting first. Either way, they were both gasping and rutting, entirely uncoordinated. Chengyu trembled with it. Chi Cheng, as always, swore. Chengyu said his name. Chi Cheng begged him again – gēge. gēge. – or maybe he imagined it.
Chi Cheng fully collapsed to the ground, and Chengyu rolled off of him. In the silence, he could hear their heartbeats. In the time it took their breath to calm, Chengyu thought of nothing more than the dark sky and the heat emanating beside him. He almost reached out to touch him, but then–
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Chengyu laughed, enamored.