Having Shen Wei in his arms again—straddling Shen Wei’s legs, pressing him back into the couch—Yunlan leans forward, burying his face in the crook of Shen Wei’s neck, just to breathe him in. It’s good, so good—and not enough. Yunlan opens his mouth, making Shen Wei shudder as he tastes a hint of salt on Shen Wei’s skin, and feels Shen Wei’s arms tightening around his waist.
With all that has happened, it feels like it’s been forever. With how time works, ten thousand years have passed since Yunlan last fell asleep with Shen Wei sated in his arms. And with how Yunlan’s life works, it’s been…surely no more than a handful of days since that very moment? But months and months before that since he had his own Shen Wei near—since it was the two of them like this, here in their home.
Long enough that Shen Wei’s hair feels strangely short when Yunlan runs his fingers through it, and that the scent and flavor of him feels unfamiliar without the spicy hint of Flower Tribe soap.
Long enough that this is another first time for both of them—the first time they both know, both remember everything of each other. “I’m going to marry you,” Yunlan murmurs into Shen Wei’s neck, all jubilant awe.
Shen Wei smiles. Yunlan can feel the joy of it in his own heart before Shen Wei presses a kiss to the top of his head, his silence laced with currents of hesitation. “Yes.”
Another first—being alone together with that connection between them, letting Yunlan pick up on the echo of Shen Wei’s feelings. And maybe it’s the physical proximity, or Shen Wei’s carefully constructed barriers of guilt beginning to break down, but it seems easier to do now than it was before, in Dixing. Easier too for Yunlan to share with Shen Wei what’s in his own heart. Yunlan kisses Shen Wei, wanting him to feel it—to feel the radiance of Yunlan’s love, which burns more fiercely brilliant than any Hallow.
Without being able to sense what he can, Yunlan might have pressed on, as dizzy with heat and want and pleasure as he gets when Shen Wei kisses him back. Yielding lips and hungry mouth and fingers digging into his hips, pulling them closer and closer together—Shen Wei is responding with as much passion as Yunlan can ever remember. But in the deep part of Yunlan’s own self that carries a spark of Shen Wei, there is a resistance to coming together. As if Shen Wei is standing alone, reaching for Yunlan through the waves of a sea trying to batter Shen Wei away where Yunlan would embrace him.
It’s a faint enough sensation that it would be easy for Yunlan to decide he is reading too much into it—except this is Shen Wei, who was beating his head against the floor in abject penitence less than an hour ago.
Yunlan cups Shen Wei’s face and slows the next kiss. Settles on Shen Wei’s lap—and oh, whatever that resistance is, Shen Wei’s body doesn’t share it. Keeping his eyes closed, Yunlan sinks into that tiny bit of himself that isn’t him, and—there it is. Shen Wei pushing through wave after wave of resistance, shaking them off as they keep crashing over him. Fighting whatever this is trying to keep them apart. Fighting to let Yunlan touch him? The possibility sends a cold shiver down Yunlan’s spine, but before it can freeze him, he shakes it off.
No, what he can feel of Shen Wei’s ardor for him is very much real and insistent. It’s what’s driving Shen Wei to hold on to Yunlan even though he is being punished by the crushing weight of his own guilt. Does he even know what he is doing to himself? Yunlan withdraws from the kiss with a sigh, dropping his hands to Shen Wei’s shoulders. Shen Wei looks up at him, clearly confused by why they have stopped, but willing to sit back and let Yunlan study him for a moment.
Shen Wei’s face is as beautiful as ever, and there is color in his cheeks now—and his ears. His lips are flushed and glistening and his eyes shine when he looks up at Yunlan. There is nothing hesitant about the way his fingers span Yunlan’s hips, thumbs nestled into the crease of his thighs. The soft cotton of his white undershirt doesn’t have a single spot on it, and the collarbones and hint of chest it reveals are unscarred. Their broken bodies have been put back together, the blood wiped away as if it never was, but all that pain and all that guilt—it’s still there, underneath. Not even the Hallows could do anything about that. Only time and patience will serve to truly heal them.
Good thing they have plenty of both, now. Yunlan grins, and gives Shen Wei’s shoulders a squeeze when he gets a bright smile and a glimmer in his heart in return.They are getting married. The world isn’t ending, and they are getting married, so all of the time they both have now belongs to each other. As for patience—well. Shen Wei waited for ten thousand years, and Yunlan has been known to understand the value of taking things slow. Really.
“You know,” Yunlan says, and only has to clear his throat a little to get his voice sounding mostly normal. “I can’t remember the last time I showered?” It’s perfectly true. He can remember buckets of lukewarm water and steaming hot springs and a few icy mountain streams, but before that—when was the last time he was home, enjoying indoor plumbing for the luxury it is? But that’s not the point. The point is that when he asks the question, that through line of tension he’s been half-sensing, half-imagining, goes slack. This, Shen Wei doesn’t have to push against.
“Zhao Yunlan,” he says, dismayed as he tries to figure out how to rise and help without throwing Yunlan off his lap. “Of course—bathing, and sleep. Or maybe a bite to eat and some tea, first?”
There is nothing strange about Shen Wei switching from desire to concern for Yunlan, not even with both of them pressed half-hard against each other—this has happened much the same way before, though usually Shen Wei is the one who notices those other needs and insists they must be tended to while Yunlan insists he needs nothing but Shen Wei. And that is what Yunlan leans into—that familiarity, that sense of everything being as it should be between them.
“Definitely a shower. Maybe tea. And sleep—” Yunlan lets his voice drop and grins lasciviously. “Well. Bed, first.” It is the easiest thing in the world to focus on the way that makes him feel, with Shen Wei’s arousal nudging against his ass. Trying to transmit those feelings to Shen Wei—well, he’s still getting the hang of that. But he thinks that maybe some of it might have gotten through, from the way Shen Wei’s lips part and his eyes darken when Yunlan shimmies off of him and leads the way to the bathroom.
Shen Wei’s hand goes to where his sleeve should be, to roll it up before running a bath. Stops himself. He isn’t wearing a shirt, or a sweater. Only his undershirt. He knew that, of course, but the heavy perfume in the bathroom of everything Zhao Yunlan smells and tastes like—his particular brands of soap and shampoo left haphazardly on the edge of the tub, the aftershave and hair gel with lids half off littering the sink—brought Shen Wei back to all the times he has come in here to run Zhao Yunlan a bath, or tidy—and he’s always done that fully clothed.
It feels as if he is skipping a step when he bends over the tub instead, intent on getting the water to a comfortable temperature for Zhao Yunlan’s bath.
“Shen Wei?” Zhao Yunlan is back after leaving their shoes by the door—unprompted, even—and Shen Wei can hear surprise in his voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”
As the answer should be obvious, Shen Wei takes this to mean Zhao Yunlan wants him to stop. He straightens, taking in the amused quirk of Zhao Yunlan’s mouth. “I thought you wanted a bath?”
“A shower,” Zhao Yunlan says. “We can’t both fit in a bath.” He takes a step closer, and even without touching Shen Wei feels enveloped by a gentle warmth—or maybe it’s that he flushes, looking at Zhao Yunlan’s mussed hair and swollen lips, and at the loose neck of the old grey t-shirt Zhao Yunlan is wearing, hanging untucked over ripped jeans.
“Both?” Shen Wei says, trying to regain some composure. He knows they both can mostly fit under the spray, but it will leave the bathroom floor wet.
Zhao Yunlan nods, eyes alight with merriment. “Xiao Wei. Do you really think I’d have gotten off your lap for anything less than getting you naked?”
“For your first bath in ten thousand years, yes,” Shen Wei replies—because it’s true, and because it will make Zhao Yunlan smile.
He does, and it feels as warm as a caress. “Okay, well—that too.”
There is a certain reluctance in Shen Wei at giving up his plans to convince Zhao Yunlan to sit down and relax in a bath. It’s not that he doesn’t want what Zhao Yunlan wants, but—Shen Wei takes a breath and turns the shower on instead. He checks that the water is heating properly while Zhao Yunlan undresses. Shen Wei can hear him walk all the way to the hamper, dumping every single item of clothing in there instead of leaving them where they fall.
Then Zhao Yunlan is back, and stepping over the edge of the bathtub—naked, and very keen to make sure that Shen Wei is aware of the fact. He turns his face up into the steaming spray of water, exposing a tantalizing expanse of neck, and runs his hands through his hair in a way that flexes his shoulders and draws attention to how the solid span of them contrasts with that tapered waist. There isn’t enough steam yet to hide anything at all, and Shen Wei’s attention is drawn to the perfect, shallow swell of posterior very much on display.
“Are you planning on combining your shower with laundry?” Zhao Yunlan says, turning his face from the water to raise an eyebrow at him. Shen Wei tears his gaze away, feeling heat coiling in his belly and landing on his skin in a fine mist from the shower—the front of his undershirt is already damp all the way through. Very careless of him—he hurries to strip, his clothes joining Zhao Yunlan’s in the hamper.
When Shen Wei returns, Zhao Yunlan moves away from the spray, shoving wet hair out of his face and blinking water from his eyelashes. His face splits into a grin. “Ah yes, that’s more like it,” he says, looking Shen Wei up and down with relish. “Now get in here.”
Protesting that Zhao Yunlan should stand directly under the showerhead to keep warm has no effect. Shen Wei is still hesitating when he feels a—a longing. Not quite loneliness, not quite desire, it’s not a feeling Shen Wei can place at all. But when he looks up, it’s what he sees in Zhao Yunlan waiting for him.
He steps into the water as Zhao Yunlan gives him space to maneuver. Shen Wei knows he isn’t actually dirty—none of the blood or dust of Dixing that clung to him stayed as he made it so that he was wearing a suit instead of tattered robes. But the water does feel—good. Cleansing.
“Hey.”
Shen Wei opens his eyes. He had not realized he had closed them. Zhao Yunlan is standing very near, now. He isn’t quite smiling—Shen Wei notices again how tired he looks, with dark smudges like bruises under his eyes, skin not quite the healthy pink it should be here in the steaming warmth of the shower. But his eyes are clear and alert, and he isn’t slumping where he stands—though that might be because he’s waiting attentively for Shen Wei to react. “Zhao Yunlan,” he says, and that brightens Zhao Yunlan’s expression.
Wordlessly Zhao Yunlan comes to rest his forehead against Shen Wei’s shoulder. Just that, and Shen Wei almost wonders at the lack of more intimate touches when he feels the gentle satisfaction radiating from Zhao Yunlan as he begins to relax. He can see the shift in tension in Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder blades, and hear a sigh under the hiss of the water. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” Zhao Yunlan murmurs, and Shen Wei strokes his wet head and rests a hand at his nape, unsure what else to offer.
Zhao Yunlan wraps his arms around Shen Wei’s waist, and then they are both moving, bumping against each other, skin against skin, finding themselves in another embrace.
Not a kiss, because Zhao Yunlan still hasn’t raised his head. But his hands are linked at the small of Shen Wei’s back, and Shen Wei has wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They can almost both fit under the hot spray if Shen Wei stands close enough to the wall that he brushes against it now and again, so he pulls Zhao Yunlan with him. Has Zhao Yunlan—wet and warm and naked—pressed up against his body. It isn’t leaving him entirely unaffected.
Isn’t leaving Zhao Yunlan entirely unaffected either—Shen Wei feels him gasp, tension growing in the shoulders under his arm, followed by a kiss to his shoulder before Zhao Yunlan goes still again, letting Shen Wei get him mostly under the shower. And what the shower doesn’t reach—Shen Wei flexes a tendril of power, and the water changes trajectory until it’s pelting down Zhao Yunlan’s back instead of his own.
It’s not enough for Shen Wei to let the water sluice off Zhao Yunlan. Not when he remembers the blood—there had been so much of it all over Zhao Yunlan. Staining his lips, running red from open wounds, gummed into his sweaty bangs, and nothing Shen Wei could do to make better, nothing at all to stop it, just—
Shen Wei holds on to Zhao Yunlan, picking up the shampoo one-handed. Pours a fragrant dollop into one hand and sets the bottle back as he gently starts working it into Zhao Yunlan’s hair.
Zhao Yunlan makes a sound of pure bliss at the touch, and Shen Wei feels an echo of it right in his heart, satisfaction radiating from Zhao Yunlan like purrs from a cat. Shen Wei works one-handed, keeping Zhao Yunlan close as he lathers up his wet hair and gently massages the scalp underneath. Zhao Yunlan leans in, letting Shen Wei take some of his weight. He pauses, trying to make room for that sensation—it has always been a pleasure to take care of Zhao Yunlan’s needs, but to be able to sense Zhao Yunlan’s satisfaction...It’s almost too much for his heavy heart to take.
Almost. And even if it were—Shen Wei knows he would still be greedy for more of those contented sighs, for Zhao Yunlan melting into his touch, swaying a little on his feet as Shen Wei rinses the suds out of his hair.
Zhao Yunlan raises his head when Shen Wei releases his control over the water, smiling slow and happy. “Mm, that’s so good. Thanks, baby.” His words come out thick, as if heavy with sleep. “Can you do the rest?”
Shen Wei looks at his clean, unblemished skin, seeing it again as it was after Ye Zun had done his worst. After Zhao Yunlan had allowed him to. For Shen Wei's sake. “Yes,” he says quickly. “Yes, let me do that.”
Gently, thoroughly, Shen Wei washes Zhao Yunlan’s pliant body. Zhao Yunlan says very little—the odd encouragement, assenting easily whenever Shen Wei asks him to move to make it easier to reach. Shen Wei has to prop Zhao Yunlan up—keeping a hand on his shoulder, on his hip—as he grows so relaxed he is almost limp. Shen Wei soothes knots of tension out of his neck and shoulders in the process of lathering and rinsing, lavishing attention on every bit of Zhao Yunlan’s skin.
There are no scars, no scabs—no physical signs anywhere that Zhao Yunlan recently suffered through such a terrible ordeal. And no matter how intimate Shen Wei’s touch gets, Zhao Yunlan doesn’t tense, or shy away. There is amusement in his expression when Shen Wei carefully avoids lingering anywhere too distracting, but he doesn’t comment. Though as Shen Wei kneels to run his hands down Zhao Yunlan’s legs, coaxing Zhao Yunlan to lean on him for balance as he lifts each foot to wash them, it is impossible not to notice that Zhao Yunlan’s relaxation only goes so far. Certainly, he is not—not all limp.
Shen Wei breathes in sharply, pulling soap-scented steam into his lungs. The urge he has been quelling—an urge for more than superficial touch—rears up again, needy and insistent. Wanting to put his mouth on Zhao Yunlan's skin, wanting to pull him close and hold him tight enough to feel the heat of his skin and his racing heartbeat. Tight enough that there can be no room for anything at all between them—no memories or misunderstandings. No more lies—not the ones Shen Wei was weak enough to believe, and not any of the other ones that have weighed on his heart for all this time.
The sound of falling water fades in his consciousness as he feels Zhao Yunlan’s fingers combing through his wet hair. “Did you miss a bit?” The low rasp in Zhao Yunlan’s voice doesn’t sound like sleepiness at all. His hand stills on Shen Wei’s head, the other resting on Shen Wei’s shoulder. Zhao Yunlan is neither pulling him closer or pushing him away, but that contact—Zhao Yunlan’s hands and more—is dizzying in its intensity.
Shen Wei lets the shower flow as it will, closes his eyes against it splashing off of Zhao Yunlan’s naked skin, and leans in. He wraps his fingers around Zhao Yunlan’s arousal, shivering with desire at its heft—not full yet, but quickening to his touch. The silky skin is water-slick and warm and perfect. Shen Wei can smell the faintest hint of clean musk under the perfume of the soap, and without thinking he goes in for a taste.
It plunges him into a state of sublime bliss. Zhao Yunlan filling his mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as Shen Wei’s tongue laves him in eager strokes. Shen Wei wants more—is losing himself to it. Is almost far enough gone that he doesn’t hear Zhao Yunlan repeating his name.
Water splashes, the sound echoing off the tiles along with the word Zhao Yunlan just said. “No.” The steam is hot and Shen Wei is lightheaded and confused, feeling startlingly empty when Zhao Yunlan pulls back and slips between his slack lips.
Disappointment he shouldn’t feel pierces his heart. Zhao Yunlan is right—Shen Wei shouldn’t have presumed, shouldn’t have—
The thought is interrupted by Zhao Yunlan’s hand caressing his face, nudging his chin up. Urging Shen Wei to look at him—and Shen Wei deserves this, whatever is waiting in Zhao Yunlan’s eyes. Alarm? Disgust?
Batting droplets out of his eyelashes, Shen Wei does as he is bid, and looks up to see—a smile.
Zhao Yunlan is smiling, as bright as Shen Wei has ever seen, though it fades when their eyes meet.
“Oh no. Oh, baby.” Zhao Yunlan tugs at Shen Wei’s arm, urging him to stand. So he does. “Come here.”
The apprehension Shen Wei feels disintegrates under an onslaught of something bright with tender sweetness. “Zhao Yunlan?”
Zhao Yunlan takes Shen Wei’s face in both hands and kisses his forehead before looking at him. “I’m sorry, that—wow. That came out wrong, I’m just a bit—” Shen Wei meets Zhao Yunlan’s eyes. Sees them crinkle with laughter, shining fever-bright. “Ah, Shen Wei. I keep telling you you’re too good to me.” Zhao Yunlan tips his forehead to Shen Wei’s, and his hands curl around Shen Wei’s upper arms.
The arousal is still there, not just—not just a physical sensation where they press against each other, but under Shen Wei’s skin. In the prickling energy anchored in his heart. Whatever Shen Wei did—Zhao Yunlan doesn’t disapprove.
Zhao Yunlan’s Adam’s apple bobs. “You did nothing wrong, okay?”
Shen Wei nods, relaxing into the embrace Zhao Yunlan is offering. That gets him a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry, baby. You were getting very enthusiastic, and I—” Zhao Yunlan chuckles. “Well. It was a choice between letting you haul my unconscious body out of the shower before long, or actually getting a chance to carry me to bed like this.” He briefly lets go of Shen Wei’s arm to gesture expansively at his own naked body.
“Bed?” The surge of desire in Shen Wei’s core is all him, overriding even his concern that Zhao Yunlan might be preparing to faint.
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to say I didn’t want—you. I do. More than anything.” Zhao Yunlan’s voice has gone raspy again. “Before I pass out, before anything else happens—I want you. I want you so bad—Don’t you want to come to bed? You’ll carry your tired husband-to-be, won’t you, baby? In those nice strong arms.” Zhao Yunlan gives Shen Wei’s biceps a squeeze, and draws a breath. “And then—”
Even if Zhao Yunlan had given Shen Wei time to answer—to react—he wouldn’t have known what to say. About how Zhao Yunlan wants him: in bed, in—in marriage. All of it shining with a light of truth that Shen Wei can feel brightening his heart. Can believe in—should believe in, as Zhao Yunlan does. But the words to say so won’t come to him, even when Zhao Yunlan pauses for air.
Instead, Shen Wei gathers his courage, and stops Zhao Yunlan from saying anything else with a heated kiss. A kiss he hopes will let Zhao Yunlan feel everything Shen Wei wants to give him.
Yunlan is ridiculously turned on and punch-drunk with exhaustion in equal measure, and having Shen Wei sweep him up in a towel and bring him to bed is the best of both worlds. He gets to stay relaxed, languid and heavy-lidded—and also gets to snuggle up to Shen Wei’s chest, enjoying all that naked skin and solid muscle in a way that makes his breath catch. Shen Wei’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, and that pressure increases as he crosses the floor to the bed—holding on so tight Yunlan thinks it’s less about Shen Wei being afraid to drop him and more Shen Wei is taking the opportunity to squeeze some of his own feelings out.
Though he doesn’t know for certain. Maybe Shen Wei is just excited. The connection between them is no help at all—it’s jumping and frizzing with a jumble of emotions too tangled for Yunlan to interpret, but strong enough now to make his heart contract. It wasn’t like this before, in Dixing, when they were—
No. They’re home now. Yunlan doesn’t need to remember that anymore—doesn’t need to worry about anything except getting Shen Wei to light up bright enough to burn away those last haunted shadows from his smile and the hesitation from his touch.
When Shen Wei rests him on the bed, Yunlan slings his arms around Shen Wei’s neck. “Come on, come here.” He stares up into Shen Wei’s eyes, dark with more than just desire.
“Are you sure?” Shen Wei says, and Yunlan’s heart sinks a little, because Shen Wei shouldn’t have to ask. “You’re tired—”
“Shen Wei. Get down here,” Yunlan interrupts, because he is tired. Too tired for gentle coaxing, far too strung out with lust. He’s had Shen Wei’s naked body against his and Shen Wei’s mouth on his cock and maybe if he were less exhausted and horny he might have tried talking Shen Wei into maybe eventually accepting that I want you means just that, but right now he can’t. Right now he needs this—Shen Wei acquiescing, folding down into the bed just like Yunlan wants him to.
Well, not exactly how Yunlan wants him to, because even with Yunlan tugging at him, Shen Wei pauses to pull the damp towel away before laying down. Not covering Yunlan’s body, but carefully fitting himself between Yunlan and the edge of the bed. Yunlan flops over on his side so that they are face to face, and Shen Wei’s hand runs eagerly across his flank—then stops at his hip, spanning the crest of it as solidly as if it was welded fast. Which would be delicious if Shen Wei was actually holding him down, teasing—but the way his breath catches and he blinks makes Yunlan’s heart clench.
Yunlan insistently pulls Shen Wei’s head to the junction of his neck and shoulder, and feels Shen Wei’s shower-warm body shudder against him. Shen Wei’s lips brush his skin—a ghost of a kiss, far too careful and tentative to ease Yunlan’s ache. Shivers chase across Yunlan’s skin, yearning for Shen Wei’s hands, and desperation is making his throat close. His fingers tangle in Shen Wei’s wet hair, trying to pull him closer, and he gets another of those gentle kisses for his trouble. This isn’t how it should be—isn’t how it has ever been, not since—
A sense memory hits him, strong enough to make him throw his head back with a groan. Long hair flowing through his fingers, that lovely body trembling passively in his arms—a kiss tasting of peach lollipop—tumbling over the edge clutched in a grip tight enough to bruise. “Xiao Wei…”
Shen Wei goes impossibly still, even his breath frozen.
Xiao Wei. This is what it had been like—that self-denial and hesitation, when Shen Wei didn’t know he could touch. When Shen Wei didn’t know Yunlan wanted everything he had to give—and Shen Wei knows now, of course. Remembers. But with terrible clarity, Yunlan understands that this too is something Shen Wei doubts. That Shen Wei fears to take anything of Yunlan for himself, because—because that is the shape of the hurt left behind from all that they both have suffered. Maybe Yunlan should have let Shen Wei apologize—but no. Accepting that unearned guilt would not have eased any of Shen Wei’s fears.
“Oh, Xiao Wei,” Yunlan murmurs, kissing Shen Wei’s wet hair. Shen Wei exhales against his skin.
“Yunlan.” Shen Wei is staying, Shen Wei will be in his arms and give him everything Yunlan asks for—that much is already holding firm between them, that much they have already salvaged with words and promises.
“Come here.” Yunlan throws a leg over Shen Wei’s waist, and Shen Wei rolls under him. The jolt of pleasure as they tangle draws a moan from him, and Shen Wei peels his hand off Yunlan’s hip and strokes his back, soothing Yunlan’s heart and drawing a swirl of sparks from the tight heat in his groin. Straddling Shen Wei, Yunlan nuzzles his throat, and Shen Wei tilts his head back with a shivering breath.
It’s a gorgeous sight, almost enough to make Yunlan forget anything but his need to get his mouth on Shen Wei. His skin is still fragrant from the shower, and tastes clean and crisp, even warm as he is. While Yunlan traces the shell of Shen Wei’s ear with his lips, Shen Wei’s fingers skate down his spine, lower and lower, and it makes Yunlan writhe in anticipation—but they stop before even reaching the tailbone, hesitating. He shifts, instead, spreading his legs—making room for Yunlan between them.
It’s scorchingly hot, of course. When Yunlan eases himself up a bit he’s already throbbing with need—Shen Wei under him like this, lips already parted around quickened breaths, damp hair tousled in a way that is downright pornographic. Eyes pleading, body willing and pliant, and hands resting on Yunlan so lightly he can hardly even feel them now. Because Shen Wei is taking nothing of what Yunlan is offering.
Yunlan swallows against the tightness in his throat, and closes his eyes as he sinks into a kiss Shen Wei answers with naked desperation. It’s not just that Yunlan can read the man he loves—he can feel him, too. Can feel that one sour note of Shen Wei’s guilt in the harmony they have resonating between them right now. Knowing Shen Wei will do anything he asks, with no thought for anything except what Yunlan might want—that would make this a false start. There would be no harm in it, and they have so many more tries to get this right—but it wouldn’t count. And Yunlan is greedy. Greedy enough that he wants Shen Wei’s everything, not just what Shen Wei thinks he should be offering.
Yunlan breaks the kiss, sitting up. He feels light-headed, and when he reaches for the drawer in their bedside table Shen Wei hurries to steady him. The firm hands on his hips are the most Yunlan has felt from Shen Wei—really felt—and it’s like having a spark plug firing directly into his cock. He bites his lip, fingertips stretched toward the drawer—which opens before he can overbalance, the tube of lube lifted into his hand by a tendril of dark energy.
It makes Yunlan chuckle, and when he looks down Shen Wei is smiling up at him. “You’re spoiling me, my treasure,” he says, and a tender warmth blooms in his chest. He leans down for a kiss, and Shen Wei surges up to meet him, sweet and eager and so very hard. Yunlan rolls his hips, fighting to hold back a whimper at the not-enough, barely-there friction as he drags against Shen Wei’s belly and Shen Wei presses up against his ass and moves against the bed.
The rutting jolts through Yunlan’s groin like the revving of a motorcycle engine, and he doesn’t want to wait—can’t wait. He grabs Shen Wei’s wrist. Shen Wei’s eyes open wide, but his body relaxes—then tenses at once as Yunlan squeezes a generous amount of lube into Shen Wei’s open palm. “What?” Shen Wei’s voice is husky, but the question carries all the bewilderment shining in his eyes.
Yunlan’s heart is overflowing with love and fear and desire, wanting his answer to be the right one. “I can do it myself if you want to watch,” he says, and his voice hitches, an onslaught of pleasure at the memory of teaching Xiao Wei like that. “But you’re so good at it, you make me feel so good—your fingers opening me—” Yunlan chokes on the intensity of his need, grinding against Shen Wei as he tries to find more words. He thought he could tease, but the shimmering heat haze of the bond between them reduces him to begging. “I want to feel you, please—”
Pupils blown wide, Shen Wei nods, and his free hand finally comes to cup Yunlan’s ass. Yunlan exhales a shaky breath and leans over Shen Wei, grabbing the metal bedrail for support as he eases himself forward and curves his spine to give Shen Wei access.
The first probing touch of Shen Wei’s slicked finger makes Yunlan’s eyes flutter shut at the combination of satisfaction and anticipation. He blinks them open again, staring down at Shen Wei—he wants to see. And Shen Wei looks up at him—the sharp focus of his expression something Yunlan recognizes from when he is concentrating to wield all that power under his control.
Yunlan sighs in relief, letting his body unwind, nearly reaching that state of gratifying relaxation Shen Wei had coaxed him into before. Shen Wei’s attention is heady—he is reading Yunlan’s face and body like an open book. Like a sacred text—there is adoration in his eyes, and Yunlan shivers and murmurs Shen Wei’s name like a prayer in return, their shared desire dancing along the filament of their connection.
Knowing nothing of time, Yunlan lets Shen Wei stroke him open, lets the searing lust build in his groin, pulsing in time with his racing heartbeat. His knuckles are going white where they grip the bed, and when Shen Wei thrusts deep and crooks his fingers against Yunlan’s prostate, his arms tremble and Shen Wei’s eyes go hooded with mirrored pleasure.
When clenching against the fingers Shen Wei is spreading in him makes Yunlan moan and push down in search of more, they both know it’s time. It’s a struggle in coordination to pry his fingers from the headboard and get his quivering thighs to hold himself as he kneels over Shen Wei.
Strong hands on his hips steady him—a very small part of Yunlan’s brain appreciates that Shen Wei must have wiped them dry on the towel—and then Yunlan puts his hand out. Shen Wei will know he wants the lube, and can choose to let go and reach for it. But he doesn’t. Shen Wei continues holding on to him, and uses dark energy to pull the lube from the bed and deposit it in Yunlan’s palm.
Yunlan smiles at him—at the care, and the easy use of those tremendous powers for something so intimate. “Thanks.” A spark jumps between them, bright and joyful at that easy exchange, and Yunlan marvels at it, holding Shen Wei’s gaze as he slicks his fingers up.
Yunlan doesn’t break eye contact even as he twists and reaches behind himself with one hand, the other on Shen Wei’s chest for balance. Shen Wei gasps at the touch—at Yunlan’s hand wrapping around the root of his cock. It’s gorgeously hard, so swollen and sensitive that Yunlan can make Shen Wei quiver with a stroke of his thumb. Yunlan hears himself make a strangled noise when he tries to speak. Swallows, and says, “You are so beautiful like this, baby. I wish I could just—” He spreads more lube over Shen Wei, watches the way Shen Wei’s jaw tightens as he tries to keep from throwing his head back—fighting to keep looking at Yunlan. “Yeah. I could do that to you. More. A lot more.”
Shen Wei digs his fingers into Yunlan’s thighs and gasps, “You can—Yunlan. Anything.”
Yunlan’s voice comes out so rough it scratches at his throat. “I can’t, because I’m going to die if I wait for you any longer.” He is feverish with lust, with that thirst only Shen Wei can slake, and he can’t wait anymore. He adjusts his grip, sits up, and sinks down on Shen Wei.
The searing pleasure of having Shen Wei push inside him has a dizzying mirrored edge to it—as he is filled he can also feel the suggestion of being enveloped in longed-for heat. There is nothing touching his cock, but it twitches as if squeezed. There is a tender ache around his heart, and that feeling of being both parts of two interlocking puzzle pieces is stealing Yunlan’s breath, making the muscles of his thighs quake and turn to water.
Yunlan braces himself, palms against Shen Wei’s chest, but there is nothing he can do—body overloading, he finds himself stretched too full, too fast. A hiss escapes him, and he blinks as he settles heavily on Shen Wei, trying to adjust to the excess of sensations searing his nerves and shattering his heart.
Ah. His heart, what is wrong with his—Yunlan sees Shen Wei. There are tears welling up in his eyes, which are wide and luminous and hurting. Yunlan goes as still as he comfortably can, blocking all distractions from his mind so he can steady himself enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “Shen Wei. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Shen Wei opens his mouth, but makes no sound. He looks like he wants to turn away from Yunlan’s touch, but leans his face into it instead. His tears are warm against Yunlan’s fingers when he brushes them away, grateful that he can. “Is it too much?”
He is whispering, but Shen Wei hears him. Nods.
“Okay. Okay, I get it, it’s—” Overwhelming. Enough to twist control of Yunlan’s body away from him before, and let him taste the seawater misery of Shen Wei’s distress now.
“You shouldn’t—” Shen Wei croaks, and Yunlan nods. He just needs a moment to get his legs working again, and he can get off and they can do something else. He draws a shaky breath to say as much, when Shen Wei speaks again. “Zhao Yunlan, you shouldn’t let me—”
“Let you what?” Yunlan is aching, but he manages to get the words out and brush some of Shen Wei’s hair from his forehead. Shen Wei shakes his head again, as if he can’t say it. “Xiao Wei.”
“Let me hurt you,” Shen Wei breathes, then squeezes his eyes shut. More tears overflow, clinging to his lashes, and Yunlan is swallowing against them, against the fiercely painful wonder blooming in his heart.
“You’re not,” he tries to say, but fails to make his voice carry. Repeats, more loudly. “You’re not. You could never.”
“I—I felt—” Shen Wei’s voice catches.
“Oh,” Yunlan huffs. “Oh no, baby.” It would almost make Yunlan laugh, the ridiculousness of Shen Wei being this despondent over Yunlan taking his cock too fast—but this isn’t about that. Not just. This is that same guilt that has been gnawing at Shen Wei’s happiness since he woke up. The guilt that won’t stay gone no matter how hard Yunlan fends it off, and now—now it’s found an outlet here, too. Yunlan draws a shaky breath, and shifts to ease the deep, throbbing pressure inside. After holding himself perfectly still the friction is so good he moans, clenching down.
Shen Wei’s eyes fly wide. The bond between them crackles.
“Feel that?” Yunlan says, moving against Shen Wei in a slow, deliberate way that makes his vision crowd with dancing motes of light.
Shen Wei gasps, writhing under Yunlan.
“That’s you. That’s—that’s what you do to me—that’s what you make me feel. I told you.” Yunlan punctuates his words by rolling his hips as he regains his coordination, his cock sliding along Shen Wei’s belly. “Want you. And it’s so perfect, you’re so—” His words catch on another moan that he does nothing to hold back. “So good, Xiao Wei. Always—everything—all of you, this close—inside me—”
“Yunlan,” Shen Wei breathes, and Yunlan stops the flow of his words. “You—this is—”
“What I want.” Yunlan’s voice is gravelly when he strokes Shen Wei’s wet cheek. “Us. Together. Nothing else, just—feeling you.”
Yunlan gets no warning. Shen Wei doesn’t tense, or wipe his eyes, or anything. He just sits up, in full control of his own body, and engulfs Yunlan in an embrace. Yunlan finds himself shifted with gentle strength, Shen Wei taking great care to keeping them joined as they come face to face, upright, Yunlan’s arousal trapped between them. The immensity of their mingled emotions in that moment steals what little breath Yunlan had left. He winds his arms around Shen Wei’s neck, folds his legs around Shen Wei’s hips, and holds on as the new position sends fiery shivers up his spine.
“Nothing else.” Shen Wei echoes Yunlan’s words so quietly they would be drowned by any other sound, but they are close, close together, and Shen Wei is Yunlan’s entire world. “Nothing between us.”
“Just us,” Yunlan agrees fiercely, smiling so hard it hurts at the fervor in Shen Wei’s expression as they move together—rolling hips, panting breaths and adoring touches so rich with shared passion he is soon trembling with exquisite tension, and Shen Wei is responding with delicate shudders Yunlan feels everywhere.
Shen Wei’s arms tighten around him—to hold Yunlan’s body steady, he realizes a moment later when Shen Wei’s lap shifts under him, sliding out enough to ease a bit of that immense pressure that has been building in Yunlan. His strong legs prop Yunlan up without noticeable effort, and because the fact that Shen Wei slowed them back down means something, Yunlan is happy to balance like this—his cock nestled against Shen Wei’s abdomen, Shen Wei’s arms around his waist, Shen Wei’s red-rimmed eyes fixed on his. “Better now, baby?” Yunlan asks, bumping his nose lightly against Shen Wei’s.
“Yes,” Shen Wei says, nodding his head against Yunlan’s cheek. Yunlan beams around the lump he can still feel in his throat. “Yes, it—what you said, what you feel, how good…”
Yunlan kisses Shen Wei’s brow as Shen Wei fails to find words for the new dimension that they share—the place in their hearts where they keep each other, overlapping like a Venn diagram of two. “That’s always been you, Shen Wei. Making me feel good.” Yunlan rolls his hips, getting another delightful shiver up his spine.
The noise Shen Wei makes isn’t quite a gasp of pleasure. “But I didn’t—”
“You’re not the one who hurt me,” Yunlan interrupts. He has to, or Shen Wei will let words spill forth that will run straight into that reservoir of guilt he keeps dammed up behind the walls around his heart. “You’re the one who heals me. You’re the one who makes it better—you always have been, Xiao Wei,” Yunlan says. Because it’s true, and because he understands how deep Shen Wei’s self-reproach goes—how strong the walls around it are. So he’s going to chip away at those walls, and drain it all out, little by little, until he can fill Shen Wei’s heart with the ocean of love he has for the man he is going to marry.
“I—”
Yunlan shakes his head. That’s not a yes, that helplessness in Shen Wei’s eyes isn’t right. “You are. You are—” And then Yunlan is the one who loses his words, because he knows exactly what Shen Wei is to him, but he can’t say it without going somewhere that hurts. Shen Wei strokes his back, kisses his jaw, and Yunlan screws his eyes shut. “You’re why I’m still here,” he says into Shen Wei’s shower-slick hair, hushed and raw. “When it was too much, when everything hurt, and I wanted to—to go—”
Shen Wei’s arms crush him tight, desperate to protect, to deny what so very nearly happened. Yunlan knows—he feels the same. “But I couldn’t. Shen Wei—I couldn’t leave you—couldn’t lose you.”
“You won’t. You won’t, Zhao Yunlan. You won’t lose me, I won’t let you—I’ll always find you, always.” The devotion in Shen Wei’s voice—in how he holds Yunlan’s body against his own, breath hot against Yunlan’s damp face—scorches those dark memories away, and carry no trace of any hesitation on Shen Wei’s part. None at all—he is speaking a truth more bone-deep and intrinsic than even his guilt, and that’s what makes Yunlan unwind into Shen Wei’s arms.
“Always,” he confirms, before a faint whine escapes him as relaxing shifts Shen Wei inside him—still inside him, and unmoving, and he has to struggle to blink his eyes open and find more words to answer all of Shen Wei’s.
“That’s what it means, what it all means—what I want, what you give me. I told you, I’m not letting you go—” His voice catches because he has Shen Wei, right now, right where he wants—or close enough that it’s exquisitely maddening to talk instead of move. But he wants this, too—wants Shen Wei’s shy smile of delight nearly bursting his heart with joy when Yunlan manages to say, “Because I love you, I’m going to—to be your husband and you—”
“I will be yours.”
“You are. Mine. Come on, touch me, move, Shen Wei—” All Yunlan feels is imploding into need, and he rocks his hips, tugs at Shen Wei’s shoulders.
“Yunlan. Can I—” Shen Wei’s hands slide down to cup Yunlan’s ass, and he cants his hips into the grip.
“Yes.” Yunlan’s eagerness tears a breathless groan from Shen Wei that resonates in Yunlan’s mind, in his memories—it is the same sound Shen Wei made the very first time he dared reach out and pull Yunlan into an embrace. The first time he understood that he was allowed—that he was wanted. Or maybe it’s not Yunlan remembering it, but Shen Wei—Yunlan can’t say. Can’t tell where either one of them ends or begins, as Shen Wei moves Yunlan on his cock and a galaxy of pleasure swirls from the core of them, flinging itself out through bones and nerves and skin.
Hands clutch at shoulders and hips, lips brush against skin, teeth teasing out beautiful shudders as the perfect rise and fall between them sends shockwaves of rapture resonating in two bodies moving as one. Yunlan is overloading with everything he feels, everything he is absorbing through their bond gone supercharged and sensitive. He knows Shen Wei is in him, dragging against that same spot that has lit all those stars floating around—knows he has his head thrown back and Shen Wei’s mouth on his throat.
But Yunlan also knows his vision is wavering and blurring with tears even though his eyes are dry—knows that this time, they aren’t from anything that needs to be chased away. Knows that there is a deep and abiding comfort anchoring them to each other in the middle of the frenzied heat with which they are finally, finally coming together in all the ways they never could before.
When at last the rhythmic swell of their movements starts disintegrating, shivers of ecstacy like ripples on a rising wave, Yunlan digs his fingers into Shen Wei’s shoulders. Urging him on, pulling him closer—angling to get that little bit of extra friction as Shen Wei plunges in with a groan that dissolves into a cry as it all comes crashing down in a drawn-out, drowning climax.
Yunlan holds Shen Wei through it—holds on through it—and as the aftershocks settle he disentangles enough to wipe the last tear-tracks from Shen Wei’s face. Then he collapses against Shen Wei, trembling, as Shen Wei slides down in bed without ever letting go of Yunlan.
They end up on the rumpled covers. They are sticky and sweaty and breathing hard, Yunlan half on top of Shen Wei, trapped in an embrace that is adorably familiar in its clinginess. The exhaustion from before is coming back manyfold to Yunlan, but he laughs for joy, and can feel it resounding against Shen Wei where they’re pressed together, heart to heart. “Ah, you’ve got me now, Xiao Wei. I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time ever, it is true. Shen Wei’s arms tighten in response. “I know.” As he had always known before that Zhao Yunlan must one day disappear, and Yunlan had known Kunlun wouldn’t stay. But now…
“You can hold on for as long as you want,” Yunlan murmurs, and finds it hard not to slur the words.
“I will,” Shen Wei says, and Yunlan nuzzles against the hollow of his throat, so much blissful contentment pulsing through him that it can’t all be his.
“Good.” Yunlan exhales, and melts against Shen Wei. With his last spark of energy he tilts his head up and brushes his lips against Shen Wei’s jaw in a kiss that is a promise of all the others to come. “Love you.”
There is a moment of beautiful, warm silence when Yunlan feels Shen Wei’s smile in his own heart. Shen Wei’s hand comes up to rest on Yunlan’s head, and he sighs happily, knowing his Xiao Wei will still be there when he wakes up. The last thing Yunlan hears as he lets himself plummet into rest is Shen Wei’s voice breaking with love.
“Ah Lan.”