Shen Wei knows it's a mistake to check his mobile phone when he hears the short buzz of an incoming text message. In an emergency, Zhao Yunlan would call him, not send a text. His office hours—extended for the hectic weeks at the end of the academic year—are about to begin. Whatever his husband has to say, it can surely wait until after Shen Wei has seen his students. Especially since it's a day off for Zhao Yunlan, and the SID doesn't have any pressing cases.
And yet. The thought of waiting another couple of hours to see the words Zhao Yunlan has written him makes Shen Wei reach for the mobile phone against his better judgment.
What he sees is not words.
Not just words. Shen Wei blinks, and swallows. There is a picture. Zhao Yunlan in the straw hat he wears against the sun in their garden, and a very, very loose white tank top. Shen Wei can see a lot of skin, sweat carving tracks into the dirt smudged into it. It's hot today! Zhao Yunlan's message reads. The words are followed by a stylized sun wearing sunglasses. Shen Wei hardly notices, though he usually tries to decode what these modern glyphs mean. Zhao Yunlan is grinning, and his cheeks are flushed pink from the heat which has plastered his hair to his temples under the hat. He looks—
"Professor Shen?" A timid knock follows the muffled words.
Shen Wei shoves the phone in a drawer and looks up with a hastily arranged smile. "Please come in!"
Students arrive one after the other, and Shen Wei attempts to focus all of his attention on them and their queries. He is here to make sure that they have understood all he has taught them over the course of the year, and to do whatever he can to ease the stress that always comes with finals. He is not here to wonder about the contents of the messages from his impossible husband. He jerks guiltily every time he hears another buzz vibrating through the heavy drawer. Not because the noise disturbs the students—it's too faint for them to make out—but because every single time he has to drag his thoughts away from what kind of images Zhao Yunlan might have sent him next.
Shen Wei resolves to turn the mobile phone off the moment he gets a chance. That decision helps his focus a little. But when the first lull between students arrives he realizes he must look at the phone before he can power it down, and there—
Shen Wei thought he was ready for another picture.
He is not ready for the message he reads.
Messy and sweaty - gotta have a shower, so you can get me messy and sweaty all over!
(And by that I mean fuck me.)
The phone seems to grow too hot to hold on to. Shen Wei drops it on the desk. He shouldn't read the rest of those messages. Not now. He should turn the phone off.
And yet—it's as if he has Zhao Yunlan's warm body pressed up against his own, as if those supple lips are brushing his ear and murmuring outrageous things. The room is spinning slightly with how light Shen Wei feels. How his heart is soaring, that they can both choose to indulge in this, frivolous as it is. Even though they aren't together, they still have time for each other. The fact that there is nothing more urgent to worry about than Shen Wei's need to conceal his untimely erection—well, as far as he knows. But chances of there being a catastrophic development in the next few hours are very slim—that is a gift beyond compare.
A gift Zhao Yunlan has given him. So how could he refuse?
Quickly he picks the phone back up again, scanning the words of the next messages, skipping over the symbols:
(And by THAT I mean absolutely wreck me.)
It's been too long.
Shen Wei doesn't pause to snort derisively at this exaggerated pleading. It's been—a week? No. Ten days—or that depends on how you count. Two weeks, then.
It's been too long.
I miss you.
I miss your cock.
Shower was lonely without you
I'm nice and clean and ready for you.
And your cock.
A wave of heat crashes over Shen Wei, and spreads through the room, tangible enough that the next student to come in (Shen Wei does not stand to greet her when she enters) wonders how long his office air conditioner has been broken.
Finally, office hours end.
Shen Wei locks his door behind the last student and turns around, considering.
He could walk. He could do what Zhao Yunlan has done, and tease. Draw the wait out, for both of them. There is a sharp sweetness in knowing that no matter what he chooses to do, Zhao Yunlan will be there when he arrives home. That Zhao Yunlan will be waiting for him—for him—in the house they share. The joy of that knowledge is such that he does not wish to deny either himself or his husband their being together for any longer than he has to.
In his mind's eye, he sees Zhao Yunlan in that picture from today. Flushed and sweaty, showing his collarbones and shoulders, grimy and grinning at Shen Wei. For Shen Wei, who gestures and opens a portal to where his desire draws him, and steps into their light and airy kitchen.
Zhao Yunlan is there, eyes closed in relish as he guzzles a glass of water. He is baring so much neck—he is baring so much skin, wearing Shen Wei's own robe. It's a dark blue silk that brings out the tan in Zhao Yunlan's face and arms in contrast to his chest and thighs and—oh. He's not wearing anything underneath. At all.
"Yunlan," Shen Wei says, the syllables coming out thick.
Zhao Yunlan startles, eyes widening in surprise, and the glass slips out of his hand. Shen Wei pictures catching it, and then his body is where it needs to be, the glass held in his hand. The other he clamps over Zhao Yunlan's hip, pressing their bodies together. The silk feels warm, and Zhao Yunlan is half hard against Shen Wei's thigh.
Half hard, and getting harder. Zhao Yunlan molds himself to Shen Wei, all surprise gone as his eyes grow lidded and he smiles—Shen Wei's breath catches. The smile is teasing, but has an edge of desperation to it. The same desperation that Shen Wei has been hiding from a succession of students because of Zhao Yunlan.
"You portalled," Zhao Yunlan says, his voice devastatingly husky.
Shen Wei places the glass on a counter, leaving them standing half a step apart. "Yes." His own voice is level.
"So. You checked your phone." Zhao Yunlan grins, and snatches Shen Wei's glasses off, setting them down next to the water.
"Your messages were terribly inappropriate," Shen Wei tells him, stern enough that there is a flicker of hesitation in Zhao Yunlan's expression.
Quickly, before he can misunderstand, Shen Wei reaches out to bury his hand in Zhao Yunlan's hair—dry but unstyled it is always so soft between his fingers—and pulls him close again, making sure Zhao Yunlan can feel Shen Wei's hard cock trapped under his trousers. Any hint of doubt burns away in a smile so brilliant it makes Shen Wei heart ache with joy that it is for him his husband smiles like this. "Oh?" Zhao Yunlan asks on a rapid breath.
"Yes. You didn't say 'please'," Shen Wei admonishes. In his arms, Zhao Yunlan gives a full-body shudder of excitement. He ducks away from Shen Wei, just enough to be able to look up through his eyelashes—helped by the fact that he is barefoot, and Shen Wei is still wearing his shoes. In the kitchen. He should—
"Please?" Zhao Yunlan says breathlessly, and Shen Wei forgets what he thought he should do. "Please fuck me. Please wreck me. Please—"
Shen Wei tugs Zhao Yunlan into a kiss. He tastes of cold water and sunripe tomatoes from the garden, and he moans for more when Shen Wei has sampled those flavors. He winds his arms around Shen Wei's neck. It would take no effort at all to place him onto the kitchen counter and take him there—but no. For what Zhao Yunlan wants—what Shen Wei wants to give him—there would be too much discomfort. Instead, he lifts Zhao Yunlan, who laughs in pleasure and wraps his long legs around Shen Wei's hips. The robe has slid open, and Zhao Yunlan's beautiful erection is trapped against Shen Wei's belly.
Shen Wei discards the bedroom—upstairs is too far, even with his powers. And besides, he needs those to get rid of all of the frustrating barriers of cloth keeping him confined, keeping him from feeling the slide of Zhao Yunlan's hard cock and the heat of his thighs against his skin. As he walks, he sheds his clothes the same way he sheds his Envoy robes—there is a curl of dark mist, a rush of power that makes Zhao Yunlan catch his breath, and then he is entering the living room feeling all of Zhao Yunlan.
Zhao Yunlan, who is staring at him with dark, hungry eyes. "Fuck, that's hot, I love it when you do that—" He only stops when Shen Wei deposits him next to the sofa. The lush trees in the garden outside throw dappled shadows on the floor and the sofa and what Shen Wei can see of Zhao Yunlan's skin. He tugs at the robe, which slides into his hands in a shimmer of silk and an unfamiliar weight.
"What—"
"For you," Zhao Yunlan says, and Shen Wei pulls a tube of lube from a pocket. Zhao Yunlan preens under Shen Wei's attention, perfectly naked, perfectly—perfect.
Shen Wei spreads the robe over the sofa cushions, and Zhao Yunlan's cock twitches with interest even before Shen Wei says, "Show me how ready you are for me." His voice comes out deep with want, and Zhao Yunlan dives onto the sofa on his hands and knees and thrusts his rump up. He is glistening with lube, hole twitching, looking over his shoulder at Shen Wei with smouldering anticipation. His eyes fix on Shen Wei's cock, and he licks his lips in a gesture that looks entirely instinctive. "Can I—"
"If you need more time," Shen Wei says. He knows what answer he will get when he adds, "To get ready."
Zhao Yunlan's eyes widen, and he shakes his head.
"Good." Mouth dry, heart pounding Shen Wei reaches out and strokes Zhao Yunlan from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his spine, raising shivers all the way. Zhao Yunlan's skin is hot and smooth, and Shen Wei does it again just to see the way those surface shivers turn to deeper tremors, Zhao Yunlan's entire body reverberating with his touch.
Shen Wei loves all the ways Zhao Yunlan begs. All the ways he makes demands—sometimes asking for what he wants, and sometimes making Shen Wei understand in different ways, little by little or all at once. Today is a day when Shen Wei knows exactly what Zhao Yunlan wants, and no joy could be greater than giving him that. Shen Wei settles himself behind Zhao Yunlan—leans forward so he can nuzzle Zhao Yunlan's sensitive ears, feeling Zhao Yunlan's heartbeat echo in his own chest. "Hold on to the armrest," he says, and waits until Zhao Yunlan fumbles into the new position. He's still on all fours, only now he will have to stop doing as he was told if he wants to touch himself. Shen Wei wants all of him today.
"So good," he praises Zhao Yunlan, and nips his ear.
Zhao Yunlan shudders. "Please.," he moans.
Desire kicks in Shen Wei's gut, and he feels exposed and unfulfilled and he needs to be in Zhao Yunlan. Needs to have Zhao Yunlan. He takes himself in hand, and uncaps the lube he's been holding on to. It's cooler than the thick summer air around them, but not uncomfortably so. He trusts that Zhao Yunlan's preparations have been enough—that Zhao Yunlan is as ready as he wants to be.
And he is. Zhao Yunlan's body yields smoothly to Shen Wei's cock. Tight pressure envelops the head as it slides past the ring of muscle. He holds there, breath caught in his lungs, heat flooding him as they go from wanting to having. From seeking to be closer and closer still, to being joined together.
Zhao Yunlan's opening flexes around Shen Wei, and he tries to rock back. Shen Wei grips his hips and holds him still, then gives him a single, shallow thrust. Nothing more. Not until he makes that strangled noise of pure lust that Shen Wei adores hearing, knowing how far gone his husband must be to make it. It is beyond teasing, beyond any kind of artifice. It is simply need.
Shen Wei gives Zhao Yunlan what he craves. Plunges in, feeling the way Zhao Yunlan's body welcomes him as a rush of pleasure that sends his flushing skin tingling. Seeking more friction for himself, fanning the flames of lust, desiring nothing so much as to take Zhao Yunlan from breathy sighs of satisfaction to a crescendo of pleasure.
The sight of Zhao Yunlan under him is its own kind of ecstasy for Shen Wei—to see him grinding into Shen Wei's thrusts, taking him, wanting him. Twisting to look back at Shen Wei, pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black, senseless snatches of encouragement falling from the lips Shen Wei hasn't kissed nearly enough today. Shen Wei runs his hands along Zhao Yunlan's heaving flanks, grips his lithe waist and leans forward until they meet in a sloppy kiss, Zhao Yunlan gasping into Shen Wei's mouth as the new angle changes the pressure inside of him.
Shen Wei adjusts his strokes accordingly, knowing what it will do. This close, he doesn't have to use his powers for his veins thrum with Zhao Yunlan's frantic heartbeat, to let him know when the pleasure of being fucked spikes into the pleasure of having his prostate light up with every thrust. It's there in the energy between them, in the way Zhao Yunlan's litany of "Yes, please, please, please" turns into a half-choked moan entirely without syllables.
Zhao Yunlan's hands are still clenching the sofa's armrest, so hard the knuckles have gone white and his arms are trembling with effort. Shen Wei knows what else he needs, and with his pace set to build waves of pleasure fast and hard he won't deny his husband much longer. Reaching around, Zhao Yunlan's cock is slick where the head nudges against Shen Wei's palm. Zhao Yunlan's body jerks at that light touch, and then stiffens as Shen Wei wraps his fingers around the silky-hard shaft.
Without slowing his pace, Shen Wei lets the swollen length slide through his grip. Zhao Yunlan's hips stutter, going from meeting his thrusts to seeking more friction, the intensity of his desire making him uncoordinated and helplessly vocal. "Please," he says, and again the word ignites something in Shen Wei. Shen Wei wanted to hear him say it, and so Zhao Yunlan is. Over and over again now, trying for more, stuttering, "Shen Wei—I can't—you have to—please."
Shen Wei's own climax is drawing near—tingling in him, hot and potent as a seed waiting to bloom in a single moment, winding him tighter and tighter, until he is pressing his mouth to Zhao Yunlan's nape, nipping at the salty skin, whispering, "You can, Yunlan. You can. Come on—" And he doesn't know if it's encouragement to hold out or to release, because then he is coming. He groans with the way it punches through him. His body shudders out of his control as he spills into Zhao Yunlan in throbbing spurts, knowing how much his husband loves the sensation of being filled up.
Still shivering through the sparking aftershocks he adjusts his grip around Zhao Yunlan's gorgeously hard length. It has been leaking, slicking the strokes as Shen Wei helps Zhao Yunlan to his own climax, pumping him through it. Zhao Yunlan's come spills over his fingers, drips onto the robe, and Shen Wei pulls the last few drops out as Zhao Yunlan bucks against him, gasping.
Shen Wei kisses the knob at the top of Zhao Yunlan's spine, and his heaving lungs fill with the scent of clean, sweaty skin and musk. They do nothing but breathe for a moment, Shen Wei folded over Zhao Yunlan, Zhao Yunlan still holding on to the sofa's armrest. Shen Wei can feel his shoulders quivering with effort, and leans back. Zhao Yunlan stays where Shen Wei put him.
"Ah Lan," Shen Wei says coaxingly. "You can let go now." Zhao Yunlan folds forward, tucking his arms under his head, breathing deep as the tension starts draining out of him.
Not all of it leaves.
Shen Wei didn't think it would. Not with Zhao Yunlan eager enough to start preparing without him. He's slaked some of his desire now, but whether he knows it or not he is still tingling against Shen Wei's senses. Still run through with energy that needs an outlet, even as he sighs in contentment as Shen Wei uses his clean hand to rub out some of the ache that must be lingering in his shoulders.
"Here," Shen Wei says when Zhao Yunlan can unfold again. "Come here," and he shifts, using one arm to pull Zhao Yunlan into straddling his folded knees, back against his chest.
Zhao Yunlan makes an intrigued hum and wriggles into the new position. His breathing hasn't entirely evened out from the aftershocks of his orgasm, and he is flushed and sweaty and delightfully eager. Shen Wei can see that he isn't hard, but from the way he turns to nuzzle Shen Wei's ear—oh yes. He is still hungry for more. Even now, with the evidence of their shared pleasure getting smeared on Shen Wei's skin from where it's trickling down the inside of his thigh.
When Shen Wei cranes over Zhao Yunlan's shoulder to bring their lips together, he licks at them, wanting in—wanting more, his breath hitching on a whine when Shen Wei draws back. Shen Wei smiles fondly into Zhao Yunlan's damp neck, his mouth working in feather-light kisses that settle Zhao Yunlan against him, no longer trying to twist all the way around.
Shen Wei's right hand is coated with Zhao Yunlan's come, and he is holding it slightly away from both their bodies. He has kept his other arm wrapped around Zhao Yunlan for support, waiting for the tremors to subside. Now that the beloved body against his feels settled enough, he lets his hand drift. His fingertips draw beads of sweat together, Zhao Yunlan's skin flushed warm under his touch. He draws swirling patterns, sweeping his fingers over Zhao Yunlan's clavicles and abdomen before letting them meander closer and closer to the nipples. Zhao Yunlan pushes his shoulders back and thrusts his chest out with lovely enthusiasm. Shen Wei obliges to a low groan, pinching first the left nipple and then the right, loving the way they stiffen into hard pebbles as he rolls them between the soft pads of his fingers.
It keeps Zhao Yunlan so distracted he doesn't notice Shen Wei moving his other hand until he deliberately brushes two sticky fingers to Zhao Yunlan's lower lip. It's like touching a live wire. Zhao Yunlan jerks against him, and Shen Wei can see the profile view of his eyes flying open in shock even as his mouth opens wide with a wanton moan. Shen Wei drops his left hand from Zhao Yunlan's chest to his cradle hip, and pulls his come-covered fingers just out of reach.
Zhao Yunlan licks come from his lip and strains forward, so very eager for Shen Wei, who hasn't let Zhao Yunlan take anything in his mouth yet. He rises with it, rump lifting from Shen Wei's legs. Shen Wei exhales unsteadily, his own desire making it difficult to keep everything slow and teasing. But he does. He makes Zhao Yunlan wait, straining and trembling with need. Shen Wei releases his hip and drags a few fingers under the crease of a taut buttock until he finds the sticky trail leading to the stretched opening. Zhao Yunlan gives a ticklish twitch, but his focus remains single-mindedly locked on Shen Wei's fingers.
Fingers Shen Wei is happy to keep perfectly still in sweet anticipation. It makes his own mouth water when he catches the tell-tale bob of Zhao Yunlan's Adam's apple in a thick swallow. And then, impatient and impossible, Shen Wei's husband grows tired of waiting. He surges upwards, come beading his facial hair as bumps against Shen Wei's hand before managing to lap at the fingers Shen Wei has been promising him
Shen Wei pushes in.
Zhao Yunlan is all slick open heat for Shen Wei, sucking two fingers in while his body opens as easily as his mouth.
Zhao Yunlan arches his back, rocks his hip forward as if to escape the sensations—Shen Wei pulls his fingers out. Not just out of Zhao Yunlan's well-used hole, which makes a filthy wet sound, but of his hungry mouth, too. An urgent noise of protest follows, Zhao Yunlan arching his neck to reach Shen Wei's fingers, which are now clean and wet with saliva down to the first knuckles.
Lips quirking sharply at this want, Shen Wei obliges. Shifts his wrist and slides back into Zhao Yunlan who moans, tongue pressing between Shen Wei's index and middle fingers as his entrance clenches around the matched intrusion there, a few more drops of come and lube trickling out. Zhao Yunlan squirms, panting harshly through his nose as he chases the flavor of his own spend while his body tries to lift off of Shen Wei's fingers.
Shen Wei leans forward, nuzzles Zhao Yunlan's damp temple. "Too much?" The words come out rough and low. Without waiting for Zhao Yunlan to process the question, Shen Wei begins to pull away.
Wordlessly, Zhao Yunlan lunges forward, swallowing around the retreating fingers to keep them in place. Shen Wei lets him pull the digits deeper into his mouth, mirroring the motion with his other hand. Plunging in, pushing deeper, brushing against Zhao Yunlan's prostate for a second or two.
Teeth close over Shen Wei's fingers, hard enough to be felt, but not break skin. Zhao Yunlan whines, low in his throat, rocking back against Shen Wei. It traps his arm between them, but his wrist will have more than enough room to move.
"You," Zhao Yunlan whines around the fingers in his mouth, "are mean". There is such awed joy in his voice that Shen Wei knows it is a playful response, and not an accusation. "I have a terrible husband."
"We have that much in common, then," Shen Wei says lightly. Thinking about the buzzing drawer and his distracted state he takes Zhao Yunlan's earlobe between his teeth. Bites it hard.
Zhao Yunlan makes a punched-out sound that could be a profanity.
Shen Wei's cock swells and he sucks the bitten spot, drawing back as Zhao Yunlan inhales sharply. It cools Shen Wei's wet fingers for a moment before they're swallowed up once again. The heat and suction of Zhao Yunlan's mouth and the eager movements of his tongue draw a shuddering gasp out of Shen Wei. It is beautiful to see his husband like this, so overcome by sensation that he seems to be fighting himself—straining forward, lips parting as he tries to catch the digits Shen Wei is keeping from him at the same time as his spine flexes as his hips lift to ease away from the stimulation.
Holding still, Shen Wei waits. Zhao Yunlan knows—knew before he complained about it, thus confirming his understanding of this game—that all he has to do to escape is release Shen Wei's fingers. If it were truly too much, and the satisfaction he got from having something in his mouth did not override the discomfort, he would stop. But he doesn't. He breathes harshly, tense and writhing, hips lifted high as he braces against the armrest—and then he twitches back against Shen Wei.
Shen Wei lights up with triumph. This is all the encouragement he needs. He lets Zhao Yunlan get his hungry mouth around one more finger, and spreads his hole wider. Too full for words now, Zhao Yunlan groans—but it's a sound of satisfaction, not protest. Artlessly, he bobs his head around Shen Wei's fingers, sliding them in and out of his overflowing mouth, setting a choppy rhythm.
Shen Wei follows it exactly, thrusting into Zhao Yunlan's slick passage in time with Zhao Yunlan swallowing him down, rubbing his prostate every time he feels his fingertips nudging against the back of Zhao Yunlan's throat. Now Zhao Yunlan grinds against him, too. Urging Shen Wei deeper, his body having gone from painfully overstimulated to overstimulated yet craving more. The hot, sticky skin on the inside of Zhao Yunlan's thigh rubs against the head of Shen Wei's cock, which is well on its way to full hardness. He sighs, mouthing at the damp skin at the crook of Zhao Yunlan's neck, closing his eyes against how incredibly good it feels to be surrounded by Zhao Yunlan this way.
He revels in the scent of salt and musk and sex hanging in the stuffy air, in the enticing sounds of Zhao Yunlan lapping at his fingers while he delves inside, aching with love and desire. With everything he feels for his husband. Everything that Zhao Yunlan returns—writhing against him now, clumsy with building need and exhausted tremors. His unsteady rhythm has grown more erratic, and when Shen Wei opens his eyes what he sees wrings a desperate groan from him.
Zhao Yunlan's eyes are squeezed shut, his lips stretched around Shen Wei's fingers. His chin glistens with saliva and come, the mess dripping down on his own chest and Shen Wei's wrist. And his beautiful cock has grown hard enough to be leaking again, but Zhao Yunlan isn't touching it. His hands are both braced against the sofa for balance and leverage as he moves. His heaving chest is flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat, the dusky nipples looking almost as hard as when Shen Wei touched them.
Shen Wei wants to touch them. Wants to feel Zhao Yunlan's body react against him and around him when he does. And even if he can't spare either hand right now, all he needs is a sliver of concentration—
Lust-hazy and moving to Zhao Yunlan's rhythm, it takes longer than usual for Shen Wei to materialize a wisp of dark energy. It is as translucent as the leaf shadows dappling the room they are in, but when he finally manages to focus it moves as Shen Wei wills it. Zhao Yunlan's skin shivers as it slides liquidly along his throat, its touch nothing more than a gossamer chill. Shen Wei makes it spread over his pectoral muscles, a diffuse sensation that nevertheless sparks little whimpers to accompany the slurping sounds Zhao Yunlan has been making.
Shen Wei increases the presence and pressure of the energy—and almost drops it entirely when Zhao Yunlan begins rubbing restlessly against it. After giving each other pleasure in so many ways, Zhao Yunlan's body responds to dark energy as to any other of Shen Wei's touches. The trust in that kind of intimacy—Shen Wei still finds it inconceivable, just how easily his husband accepts all of him. To distract himself as much as Zhao Yunlan, he swirls the energy into a more solid kind of pressure. Zhao Yunlan makes a wet groan, and before Shen Wei's focus scatters he draws the dark energy tight, clamping down on both of Zhao Yunlan's nipples at the same time.
Zhao Yunlan makes a lovely, gasping sob, hips bucking wildly with the same desire that has already gotten him so beautifully flushed and messy. Shen Wei wants him. Wants more of him. He slides his fingers out of Zhao Yunlan's open mouth and stretched hole, leaving him wet and empty and whining Shen Wei's name in protest.
The whine trails off when Shen Wei places both hands on Zhao Yunlan's hips, pulling him back against Shen Wei's cock. Fully hard now, it slides easily along his perineum, nudging against his balls.
"Oh," Zhao Yunlan says, ravishingly breathless. Shen Wei noses at his ear, enjoys the sensation of having Zhao Yunlan's full weight resting against him for a few moments, damp skin sticking to damp skin.
Shen Wei doesn't say anything. He opens his hand, reaching for the lube which comes flying from wherever it disappeared to in the mess of tangled robe and rucked-up sofa cushions. Zhao Yunlan twists around, nose bumping blindly against Shen Wei's jaw, breathing in little whimpers when Shen Wei rocks his hips to rub them together again. Then he applies a generous coat of lube to his now-straining cock, and mouths at the juncture between Zhao Yunlan's neck and shoulder.
Zhao Yunlan arches into the touch.
Shen Wei bites down and pushes inside Zhao Yunlan.
The keening cry he gets is like dark energy sparking in every nerve. The pleasure of sliding home again is overwhelming, and Zhao Yunlan is trying to thrust back to take him deeper. His body is so wrung-out he trembles, unable to fully coordinate the movement. Shen Wei wraps an arm around his chest to steady him, and grips his hip hard enough to leave a bruise to match the bite mark. Zhao Yunlan will like that, he thinks—
wreck me
—and sinks into a punishing rhythm.
Zhao Yunlan pants and moans, writhing into the stimulation. Shen Wei holds on to him, nipping at the back of his neck, at his ears, drawing whines and shudders that spur him on. Not until Zhao Yunlan is shaking so hard it folds him forward onto the armrest does Shen Wei shift the hold he has on his husband. He gathers Zhao Yunlan to his chest, kisses his damp cheek, and slows down. Stops, to a weak but determined, "No—more—"
"Yes," Shen Wei says. "There's more. Relax, Ah Lan."
Appeased, Zhao Yunlan allows Shen Wei to slide out and lay him on his back. There is more satisfaction to be had from this moment—Shen Wei wants to see. And even wanting, he is still overwhelmed with emotion when Zhao Yunlan beams at him, dazed and beautifully messy, and goes so sweetly pliant that Shen Wei thinks he could probably bend him double. He doesn't, but drapes Zhao Yunlan's legs over his shoulders, reveling in all that he can see:
Zhao Yunlan's eyes fluttering shut as Shen Wei pushes in again, wet lips parting around an unrestrained moan. The line of his neck and collarbones, the lithe strength of his shoulders and slender narrowing of his waist. The faint dusting of dark hair leading down to the thick thatch from which his still untouched cock is rising, flushed and swollen, leaking steadily as it bounces against Zhao Yunlan's flat belly. There is such deep pleasure in every expression, every gasp and cry that Shen Wei's heart is full, full, full.
And then Zhao Yunlan's hand comes up to cup his cheek, and Shen Wei's emotions overflow. He squeezes his eyes shut on a whimper, and Zhao Yunlan caresses him, murmuring soft endearments as they rock together slowly. Shen Wei exhales a deep, shaky breath, familiar enough with these sensations to gradually be able to make enough space for his feelings.
"That's good.There you go, baby. So good. So beautiful." Zhao Yunlan smiles at him, and Shen Wei licks into Zhao Yunlan's mouth, following the words of love to taste the heady hint of bitter musk lingering there. Zhao Yunlan bucks up against him, gripping his shoulders desperately hard.
Shen Wei revels in Zhao Yunlan's strength, in what he's being urged to give. He speeds back up. Watches Zhao Yunlan again, the way his body twitches and trembles as Shen Wei lifts him slightly by the hips, finding the right angle to singe him with pleasure.
Zhao Yunlan's hands fist in Shen Wei's hair, drawing him down for another kiss, and Shen Wei laughs with breathless exhilaration at his husband's unending appetite for him. Rewards the kiss with a hand around Zhao Yunlan's cock, and starts by stripping it to the rhythm of his thrusts, getting it slick with precome.
Then he leans back a fraction to watch Zhao Yunlan's fingers digging into the sofa cushions as he speeds up, pumping him with a combination of pressure and friction that makes his face contort in ecstasy. Zhao Yunlan tightens around Shen Wei, who grins and flicks his wrist in a twist that makes Zhao Yunlan come with a choked groan. Shen Wei milks Zhao Yunlan's cock through his orgasm, drawing whimpers and spurts of come that splatter over Zhao Yunlan's belly, leaving him fully drained. His legs hang limply over Shen Wei's shoulders.
Shen Wei leans down to kiss his forehead, plastered with sweaty bangs, and Zhao Yunlan gazes at him with a mixture of exhaustion and adoration and something that would be suspicion, if it weren't so fond.
Without a word, Shen Wei puts his come-covered index finger to Zhao Yunlan's lips. Zhao Yunlan's eyes widen, and he shudders, his hole twitching. Shen Wei has fucked him nearly senseless, and he has climaxed again—it's possible that he will be too tender, too sensitive. Shen Wei waits, not pressing forward. Not pressing deeper into Zhao Yunlan, though it costs him. Little shivers are running through his thighs, shoulders locked against tremors and the need to move as he holds his hand just so.
Smirking, Zhao Yunlan gives his fingertip a kitten lick. Shen Wei furrows his brow as he tries to decide what his husband means. Zhao Yunlan's tongue darts out again, pink and hungry, and licks more come off the side of Shen Wei's hand. He shudders at the sensation. At what he wants—at what he's waiting for.
And then Zhao Yunlan fixes him with a greedy stare and hollows his cheeks, sucking all of Shen Wei's finger into his mouth.
Shen Wei falls into Zhao Yunlan—kissing him, fucking him, drinking in the wrung-out sounds he makes until everything is the wild pounding of their two hearts, the taste of sharp-salt sweat and sweet-salt tears and Zhao Yunlan is absolutely, perfectly wrecked.
His climax, when it hits, wrings Shen Wei out so hard it hurts. Zhao Yunlan strokes his face through it, and wraps his strong arms around Shen Wei when Shen Wei collapses half on him in the narrow confines of the sofa. The cushions are all askew, and he's going to need to use his powers to remove the stains they have left, but none of that matters at all. There is no discomfort when Shen Wei lies in Zhao Yunlan's embrace, no real concern for later when he can drown in his husband now.
Zhao Yunlan kisses his brow, and pets his tousled hair with an unsteady hand. "Well," he says, and his voice sounds screamed-out hoarse. "That—worked."
"Your messages?" Shen Wei asks.
Zhao Yunlan nods, and sighs in contentment as Shen Wei's head rests on his shoulder. Just for a moment. "I wasn't sure you'd—see them."
"I wanted to look at them," Shen Wei explains. Doesn't explain about the lightness in his heart, and what a joy it is to be able to choose this—choose to be with Zhao Yunlan. Choose them over doing what might be technically right and proper. He doesn't need to. He knows Zhao Yunlan understands what it means to have time.
"I wanted you to look," Zhao Yunlan says, voice pleased and mellow, intensifying the brightness of the afterglow Shen Wei feels. Zhao Yunlan's lips brush his hair, sending fireworks of warmth tingling through him.
Luxuriating in the chance to drift off together in a post-coital doze for a while, he slings an arm around Zhao Yunlan and draws them more securely together. Then he breathes in air with an exaggerated sniff. "You're going to need another shower. You are a sweaty mess."
Zhao Yunlan laughs, then, and says, "It's all going according to my plan."
Shen Wei burrows closer. "Good," he says. Because everything is.