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Xue Meng did not remember the first time he stepped foot on the Rainbell Isle. It must have happened, he reasoned, casting his mind back to those tumultuous days. He remembered a bottle of wine that burned going down his throat, someone’s voice next to his ear, and even stronger liquor caught spluttering in his mouth, spilled from a strange flask from a foreign land.
What he did remember was the way he got so violently ill from that liquor that he ended up spilling the content of his stomach on an unsuspecting Mei Hanxue.
The slight, niggling guilt aside, Xue Meng did take some small measures of satisfaction in that.
Xue Meng did not remember much about the Rainbell Isle even as his mother was born on that great floating island atop the Xuanwu’s back. She had told him stories, to be sure, and when he was younger, he had listened with more than half an ear’s worth of interest, hanging onto her every word. Guyue’ye was always spoken about in a quiet, melancholic tone, and at first Xue Meng thought that his mother had simply missed her ancestral home and sect as he imagined he would if he had to leave Sisheng Peak for any extended length of time.
Not until much later, until moments before her eventual death, did Xue Meng understand the true extent of that melancholy.
The cultivation conference at Guyue’ye this year drew the largest crowd that the greater cultivation world had seen in a while. With Rufeng Sect completely annihilated, a power vacuum had been created, and when Sisheng Peak and Kunlun Taxue Palace waited to rejoin the cultivation world in their exclusive allyship directly following the last battle, Guyue’ye had rather opportunistically stepped up. Jiang Xi’s position as Head Cultivator asides, at that time, he was only too ill to take part in the establishment of the Guyue’ye name as the foremost cultivation sect. It had been Jiang Xi’s adopted son, a bright, gentle young man of extraordinary beauty, who had steered Guyue’ye in his yifu’s long absence.
And now, the cultivation conference was held at Guyue’ye on an annual basis. Xue Meng would have bristled at that, and in a way, he did, but it had also been a few years since the last time he had complained so openly about prestige and the way the various sects had settled back into their routines as if the rift in the sky had never opened, as if the Gate of Life and Death had never split open their world and threatened to take away all that they held dear.
In peacetime, it was always money that spoke the loudest. And money, Guyue’ye had in abundance.
“You’re not enjoying the festivities,” Mei HanXue murmured from next to him.
The feast was overly elaborate, and Xue Meng prodded at the content of those tiny, multitudinous dishes on his personal table suspiciously. “When will this end?”
On his other side, Mei Hanxue chimed in, sounding as if the premium wine served by Guyue’ye’s infamous female disciples had sweetened his tone all the more. “Another three days of enjoying Sect Leader Jiang’s hospitality. Ziming, do you find it lacking?”
On the contrary, it was simply too much. The festivities at Sisheng Peak had been different. Louder, and somehow more intimate. The tables here were spread in such a formation that it was nearly impossible for the different sects to hear or see each other, separated from party to party by sheer curtains of green and white. It was Jiang Xi’s adopted son’s idea, Xue Meng heard the serving girls whispered, giggling as Mei Hanxue charmed the stories out of them. The conference itself, when they gathered together to discuss the fate of the cultivation world and the mortal realm, was a long, three-day affair packed with far too many speeches and requests from this sect and that, and already on the first day, Xue Meng found himself zoning out every time the contingent from Wubei Temple stood up and drawled out their long sermons.
“I’m tired,” he said at last, taking a sip of his tea. Wine was served in tandem with the meal, but Xue Meng dared not indulge on such an important day. All these years, and it was only the case that his tolerance had decreased substantially. A result of aging , he could hear his cousin sagely say over their monthly meeting at the Red Lotus Pavilion, which was merely a euphemism for Xue Meng getting piss-drunk and waking up to a faceful of his cousin’s back as he was dragged unceremoniously back to his quarters. Cousin, you must simply accept your lot in life. Some of us were not meant to be at the Yuheng Elder’s level, but to be as badly off as you…
Xue Meng had thrown the wine in Mo Ran’s face that time. It was an expensive jug, and it was worth every single copper.
“We can go back for a quick refreshment now, while they are still enjoying the feast,” Mei Hanxue suggested. “Ziming, if you want, gege can stay here and stand in for you while you rest.”
“Volunteering me, are you,” his brother said impassively. The older twin turned his glacial stare onto Xue Meng. The ice glistened, the first sight of melting. “Would that be something you want, Ziming?”
Xue Meng shook his head. There was a crick developing on the back of his neck; he swiveled his head, trying to chase the source of the discomfort, but it remained elusive all the same. “There’s not that much left for the day’s agenda, anyway. And what do you know of Sisheng Peak business, Mei HanXue? What if when I’m gone, you’ll have traded all of Sisheng Peak land routes to Jiangdong Hall?”
Mei HanXue’s reaction was exactly what he was hoping to get. Those thin, light eyebrows drew together for a quick moment in a gesture of disgust, the corner of his mouth twisted, and as soon as the expression formed, it dissipated. “Last I checked, it was you who liked to entertain Sect Leader Hua in your personal study,” he said bitterly.
That, at least, earned a loud guffaw from Xue Meng. “You’re still not over that.”
The look he received very much indicated that Mei HanXue was very far from being over anything.
The feast dragged on for another shichen. It was almost the end of the day, and if Xue Meng was not mistaken, there was but one more item on the agenda that he had been ceremoniously handed by green-garbed Guyue’ye female disciples who made the round of the major sects’ leaderships earlier that morning at the relatively more modest breakfast spread. Xue Meng tapped at his feet, feeling the way that familiar pin and needles sensation settled into his lower limbs, recalling the very first time he had ever sat in on a feast, legs arranged in the most uncomfortable position a young Xue Meng had known at that time.
“Something on your mind, Sect Leader Xue?”
Mei HanXue placed another morsel of meat onto Xue Meng’s bowl. Jiang Xi had spared no expenses for this feast. Succulent slices of pork belly, steamed until perfectly tender and seared until the skin crisped up; small, neat bites of dumplings that burst with broth in one’s mouth, suitably warm and never too hot to burn the tongue; whole silvery fish, steamed with ginger and dried lily flowers tied into delicate knots, scattered with fermented soybeans and doused in the lightest touch of sesame oil; farther away on his table lay dishes of lightly stir-fried greens, the meal perfectly balanced by the promise of sweet longan soup and pears stewed in white sugar that Xue Meng could spy from the serving trays of young disciples making the round of the feast hall.
He glanced down at the pork slice in his bowl. “You don’t even like pork,” he said accusingly at Mei HanXue. “Why did you pick it up?”
“You like pork,” Mei HanXue simply said.
“Now you’ll have pork lingering on your chopsticks,” Xue Meng pointed out.
Mei HanXue continued to stare at him as if he was a touch simple. “You seemed distracted.”
There was much to think about at this cultivation conference. As much as Sisheng Peak had risen up the rank in respect and renown across the land, prestige did not bring with it wealth as a matter of course. The Mei Hanxues had probably seen this first hand the moment they decided that the comfort and remote luxury of Taxue Palace was no longer worth the distance to Sisheng Peak. They had traded the snow-capped mountains for the mountains of paperwork and debt collections that graced Xue Meng’s study, and for a time, there was a sense of embarrassment that Xue Meng told himself was merely irritation at having his private space invaded without his permission.
Of course, that was the furthest thing from the truth.
He had asked them to be dual cultivation partners.
Xue Meng sighed. “The trade agreement will need to be expanded for Sisheng Peak to be able to sustain itself given we earn almost no revenue from night hunts and demon suppression.”
He had carried his father’s legacy with him, even now. Xue Meng thought of that golden fan on a shelf in his study, and wondered if his father would be proud of him. Of what he had done with the sect.
Xue Meng knew the answer to that, and yet, sometimes he couldn’t help but indulge in that pang of doubt.
“The negotiation went well today,” Mei Hanxue chimed in, piling up more food on Xue Meng’s bowl. “Ziming, eat before it cools. Or, I could feed you. Say ah…”
Xue Meng elbowed him without remorse. “Why are you this embarrassing in public?”
Mei HanXue placed his chopsticks down on the other side. “For once, I agree with Hanxue. Ziming, there is no reason for Wubei Temple to refuse the arrangement. It’s beneficial to them, as well, to share trade routes with Sisheng Peak, especially if they want to expand southward. We don’t deal in the same products. The cost of road construction and caravan stops would be halved with the agreement. Don’t worry too much about it.”
“I knew that,” Xue Meng grumbled, and he picked up the bowl and ate another bite, chewing slowly. The pork skin crackled in his mouth, and the fat burst sweetly across his tongue, coating it in perfectly seasoned richness that he had to immediately wash down with rice. He sipped at the tea for good measure and scrunched up his nose. “But Bitan Manor also had a similar proposal. Li Xuehe has a sweet tongue. Who knows what that stupid Wubei monk would think is in his temple’s best interest?”
Mei Hanxue snorted lightly, tugging at Xue Meng’s sleeve. “Ziming, you sure are spicy. Here, have some more wintermelon soup. We should probably cool you down before these thin curtains carry your word to Sect Leader Li’s seat.”
“Don’t you want to go say hi to your shizun or something?” Xue Meng countered, placing his chopsticks down decisively across his half-empty bowl. The pork had indeed been too rich, and the portion would have been perfectly fine, Xue Meng thought, the slices well-calibrated, if only the twins hadn’t plied his bowl with a steady supply of them. “You haven’t seen her in awhile. I’m sure she’s wondering how her favorite disciples are after they ran away from home.”
“We went with her blessing,” Mei HanXue said blankly. He refilled Xue Meng’s tea cup, taking the opportunity to brush against Xue Meng’s hand as if the gesture was a mere accident. But Xue Meng was no longer naive enough to take anything these stupid twins did as accidental, not when it came to him.
Not since they bowed beneath the sky and partook of the wine, swearing fealty to each other in this life under the heavens, above earth.
He grunted. Mei Hanxue took that as an opportunity to squeeze discreetly at his thigh from underneath the low table. “Ziming, let’s go back to the room then, if you’re done eating. We can make it back in time for the last portion of the conference tonight.”
“What do you want to do back in the room?” Xue Meng asked suspiciously.
He had a slight idea of what they could be doing, alone, behind closed doors.
Xue Meng had absolutely no interest in such an arrangement. Not here, under Jiang Xi’s roof.
It was just unfortunate that his body had never responded to what his mind screamed at him.
They snuck out of the feast without incident. The merriment had simply suffused the space, low murmurs behind silken screens at every corner of the grand hall, and although the Sisheng Peak contingent was not exactly low-profile, what with Sect Leader Xue flanked by the golden twins of Taxue Palace, nobody paid them much attention asides from a few tittering serving girls.
The door to their chamber slid open with a well-oiled sigh. Xue Meng echoed it, stepped across the threshold, and marveled at the way the pressure had already lifted off his shoulders from such a simple change.
Behind him, the twins closed the door.
Xue Meng shuddered instinctively.
“I was just thinking that you might want to take a little break from all this, Sect Leader Xue,” Mei HanXue whispered into his ear, and Xue Meng unconsciously leaned into it. There was one of them on either side of him. Xue Meng let his eyes close as their hands found the thick fabric on his shoulders, his arms, sliding along familiar planes, searching for the pressure spots that had tightened imperceptibly throughout the long day of work. There was that familiar heat building just under his skin again, but it could also be the way the stickiness had settled under his robes from the long day.
“We’re at a cultivation conference,” Xue Meng managed to hiss. “Mei HanXue, there are people all around us. These doors are thin. Have you no shame? Are you really going to challenge your brother for his reputation?”
Mei Hanxue protested half-heartedly, “I resent that!” But the way the younger twin’s hand only tightened around his waist seemed to suggest that Mei Hanxue was rather far from resentful, least of all of anything that might have come from Xue Meng’s mouth.
“Everyone is still at the feast.”
“There could be servants milling around…”
“Everyone is still at the feast,” Mei HanXue repeated impatiently. “Xue Ziming. You look like you’re about to snap.”
Xue Meng flushed furiously and turned to the older twin. “What are you talking about?”
“The tension,” Mei Hanxue explained with much more patience, “in your back. Relax, Ziming. Let’s just take a break from it for a while.”
“There’s too much to do—”
“Just for a little while,” Mei Hanxue assured him, already sliding the silver belt off, allowing the two fronts of Xue Meng’s outer robe to flare out. He would have to make a note to get more elaborate belts, with more complicated mechanisms, made. This presented absolutely no challenge to these two degenerates.
But if he enjoyed their ministrations so much, then what did that make Xue Meng?
Xue Meng decided not to dwell on it for too long.
“Sect Leader Xue… ah, niangzi,” Mei HanXue started, and the rusty metal gears in Xue Meng’s head grinded to a halt.
“What did you call me?”
There should have been more heat in his voice, and there was, but it was the wrong kind of heat. Xue Meng leaned back against that broad chest, mouth opening a little, and his legs were shaky all of a sudden even as the weight of his clothes slowly departed, layer by layer. The metal plates on his shoulders and arms were already gone, and when Xue Meng was only clad in his white inner robe, he shivered uncontrollably between them, his damp clothing exposed to the slight chill in the air. The twins shifted so that one of them was directly behind him, the other slightly to the side, and one pair of insistent, unyielding lips latched onto the soft skin at the nape of his neck, tugging relentlessly at the wisps of hair loosened from his high ponytail.
They maneuvered him to the bed without his knowing. It was difficult to pay attention when his every thought hung upon that word, when Mei HanXue’s eyes gazed at him with such intensity, when the younger twin chuckled lightly behind him, pushing the curtain of his hair aside for better access to the soft skin underneath.
“Our niangzi,” Mei HanXue said, and Xue Meng could swear that if he wasn’t already seated, his knees would have given out from underneath him.
Mei HanXue knelt down on one knee, slowly parting the folds of Xue Meng’s inner robe. That tiny, tiny part of him was rapidly being drowned out by the less rational parts of his mind that screamed at him to open his legs and accept whatever they would give him, whatever it was that would drive all thoughts from his mind and release all the tension that he had held in since this cultivation conference started.
Perhaps he had been holding it all in for far longer than this cultivation conference.
“What happened to Sect Leader Xue?” Xue Meng weakly protested, pushing at them, kicking at them. Mei HanXue simply caught that foot in his hand and slipped off the boot, repeating the movement with his other side.
From above, Mei Hanxue hooked one finger under his chin. Xue Meng gulped. “Niangzi, a wife shouldn’t have to work so hard when she has her husbands to take care of matters on her behalf.”
Xue Meng wanted to respond. He thought about the last time he had heard anyone referred to with that word in such intimate a manner, and it had been his father who cradled his mother’s hand in his own, the three of them sitting around the dining table, steam from the dishes fogging up that air around them that had always been ringed with laughter.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Let your husbands pamper you tonight, niangzi,” Mei HanXue said, and closed his mouth around a particular spot on Xue Meng’s inner thigh.
Xue Meng found no strength in himself to refuse. Not when his clothes lay in pieces around him, not when his skin welcomed each and every touch, his eyes drank in the sight of them still dressed in their finery, their attention entirely on him as if he was a feast more enticing than the one they had just left.
Not this night.
The conference proceeding was the last thing on his mind. Xue Meng briefly recalled something written in the agenda for after the feast, but it was as if the words were hidden behind a sheer curtain that fluttered with every breath from their warm, open mouths descending onto his body.
There was a similar curtain on their bed, and Xue Meng gazed at the surrounding from beneath shuttered lashes, taking in almost nothing. The guest room they had been assigned was sumptuously appointed and befitting what one might expect for a visiting Sect Leader, with dark wood furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl; that, too, was not at all on Xue Meng’s mind. In fact, the only thing on his mind at that moment was the familiar scent of the ambergris incense the twins had brought with them all this way, the dip of the mattress under their combined weight on this lavish bed, the way his robes lay in disarray and simply pushed aside by insistent hands. Their faces closed in on him, identical smiles of mischief on their faces as they robbed him of speech and inhibition with that one single word.
“Niangzi,” Mei Hanxue said again, and in his voice, it sounded just a little different.
Xue Meng’s toes curled within his embroidered cloth shoes. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Aren’t you our niangzi?” Mei HanXue murmured from between his legs. There was something about the way that face was framed by his thighs, framed too by the golden locks that trailed tantalizingly close to Xue Meng’s exposed skin, that rendered Xue Meng’s most basic functions entirely too responsive to Mei HanXue’s touch. “Niangzi, lie down for us.”
Up above, Mei Hanxue wrapped his arms around Xue Meng’s shoulders, kissing just below his collarbone. “You’ve already worked hard. We can delegate an Elder to take care of the rest of the conference for tonight.”
“Hngg,” Xue Meng panted, his tongue lolling. “The conference…”
“It’s no doubt over by now,” Mei Hanxue said between kisses to his navels, trailing downward. “Niangzi, just lie back and let your xianggong relieve some of that tension, hm? You were gripping the cup so tightly at dinner, I thought you were going to break Sect Leader Jiang’s precious jade cup. And then where would we be?”
Xianggong.
The wave that swept through Xue Meng’s entire body at that word had been nothing short of lightning. The kind that would descend upon the wielding branches of a lone tree, arrogant enough to think it could uphold the whole of the cultivation world.
“You—you!”
“The finances at Sisheng Peak can’t afford another incident,” Mei HanXue said meaningfully. He leaned over Xue Meng from above so that their lips aligned almost perfectly, Mei HanXue’s long nose pressed against Xue Meng’s chin. Xue Meng gasped into that mouth, allowing Mei HanXue’s tongue to enter. There was no longer any need for exploration between them, Xue Meng thought, but Mei HanXue liked to take his time, as if this sojourn in the warm wetness of Xue Meng’s mouth was just as fascinating and grand as the very first time they had been connected in that way.
To tell the truth, Xue Meng could no longer remember their first kiss. There had simply been too many intervening kisses, too many whispered confessions, too many gentle touches to the small of his back in the middle of the night.
Too many times Xue Meng had screamed out Mei HanXue’s name, and too many times his brother’s.
They were no longer strangers to each other, and yet, even now, the wonder still hadn’t ceased.
Xue Meng hoped it never would.
Xianggong.
“I’ve been thinking,” Mei Hanxue said almost conversationally, sheathed deep inside Xue Meng. Xue Meng peered at him from under half-lowered lashes, his tongue still too swollen for his mouth. His robes were almost certainly ruined by now, and he couldn’t find the strength in himself to shrug them off completely. His bottom burned just a little; the preparation had been a little less prolonged than usual, given their state earlier, and Xue Meng thought that perhaps he was partly to blame for the naive, optimistic way he thought that attendance at the conference for the rest of the day was still a possibility for them.
What a pipe dream that was, he understood now.
“What?” Xue Meng slurred. Mei Hanxue withdrew from him almost entirely, and then slowly, excruciatingly, slid back inside, that thick length filling out every crevice of Xue Meng’s inside, vying with his organs for space. Xue Meng glanced down at his stomach, subconsciously reaching out to trace the flatness. It was flat, still.
Whatever that could have meant through the haze in his mind.
“Have you not read The Tyrannical Immortal and His Pampered Bride? Niangzi has been working too hard for the sect. The pampered bride in the story never lifted her fingers for anything.”
Mei Hanxue thrusted into him twice more. Xue Meng groaned at the impact, absorbing the unrelenting shockwaves. “I’m not a pampered bride.”
“Perhaps you’d like to be,” the older twin murmured into his ear, arms tightening around his torso. Xue Meng arched into that warm breath. “Perhaps you’d like to relax. Be loved. Be filled up by us and nothing else.”
“That’s absurd.”
The groan was broken; Mei HanXue inhaled deeply into that soft skin just under his ear, tickling the sweet fuzz of hair. The lightness of Mei HanXue’s breath made his entire body shudder in response. Mei HanXue began to play with his nipples; fluttering, caressing touches, and yet the anticipation of when that soft touch would turn teasing and passionate sent shivers down Xue Meng’s spine. “Ziming would make a beautiful pampered wife.”
“I’m not a wife.”
“He would look beautiful in jewels and soft silk, clad in nothing but the most exquisite ornaments. No armor on his shoulders to weigh him down. No heavy boots; his feet would be surrounded in soft slippers,” Mei HanXue continued. Xue Meng thought that this was the longest he had heard the older twin talked for a while. “He wouldn’t have to busy his days with paperwork and sect finances. There would be nothing but music and poetry and art, and perhaps a bit of herbology, if Ziming would like. The greenhouses could use another mistress.”
“This ridiculous fantasy…”
The younger twin’s hand wrapped around the base of Xue Meng’s cock, tugging once. From behind, those hips lazily rolled forward, almost dipping lightly into Xue Meng at least nine times in succession. Just when Xue Meng thought that his body had fully acclimatized to Mei Hanxue’s pace, the younger twin thrusted in deeply once more. Xue Meng’s eyes would have flown open had he more strength. “We would take care of everything for you, as your husbands.”
A stuttered moan. “I am the lord.”
“The Lady of Sisheng Peak would not have to concern herself with trade relations with Guyue’ye,” Mei Hanxue said meaningfully. “The Lady would enjoy the beauty of the day by the koi pond, perhaps, while her husbands were hard at work to provide for her. The Lady would only be responsible for her own amusement until her husbands returned to her at last.”
“She could carry her sword, as a treat,” Mei HanXue begrudgingly added.
“I’ll shove my sword up your ass, as a treat,” Xue Meng groaned, but whatever else he had meant to say simply remained in his head. At that moment, Mei HanXue pressed his lips against the slick slit on Xue Meng’s cock, swiping away the clear precum that had already gathered there. His brother’s hand was still on the base of Xue Meng’s cock. “Ah… move… Mei HanXue…”
“Which one are you calling for, Mengmeng?” Mei Hanxue said pleasantly. “Niangzi, isn’t it too forward to call your lord husbands by their given names that way?”
“I’m not playing your stupid game,” Xue Meng insisted.
It turned out, unbeknownst to Xue Meng at that time, although he really should have guessed, that Xue Meng would have no choice but to play that stupid game.
It turned out, in fact, that Mei Hanxue was particularly effective at keeping that iron grip around Xue Meng’s cock, that Mei HanXue knew exactly with what pace to punish Xue Meng’s cock with each long, deep swipe of his tongue, keeping Xue Meng perfectly teetering on the edge of sanity, reaching for something that his fingers could not find.
And if possible, Mei Hanxue’s cock inside of him had only grown harder, but it refused to move at any tempo greater than that languid, maddening, torturous crawl.
“Mei Hanxue… you… both of you…”
“Ah, our niangzi, so stubborn,” Mei Hanxue tutted. “Why do you make things so difficult for yourself?”
“You… you won’t let me come…”
“And cut short our niangzi’s pleasure?” the older twin continued where his brother had left off, mouth lapping at the shaft, tongue flicking ever so close to where the sensitive head was, never quite reaching it. “Never. If I had my way, you would never have to lift a finger again.”
“I’m not… not… hngg… Mei HanXue!”
Madmen. Both of them, simply mad. Xue Meng clenched his jaw, thrusted his hip upward, searching for any kind of stimulation at all that could send him over the edge into that oblivion he’d known so well.
Oblivion that he had only ever found at their fingertips, at their pleasure.
Pleasure, Xue Meng thought, eyes rolling back as Mei Hanxue bit gently at the shell of his ear, as the older one slipped one heavy ball into his mouth, suckled on it, and switched to the other one. It was too much, and it was not enough, and Xue Meng was a mere heartbeat away from losing whatever sense of propriety he still had when in their company.
But when had he not been in their company ever since their cultivation ceremony?
That day, they had bowed to the earth and to the sky, to each other, to themselves.
“Xianggong,” Xue Meng choked out, and the silence in the room grew to a deafening roar. “Xianggong, let me come.”
Once the floodgates opened, it was impossible to close them again. Xue Meng grasped for whatever he could of the twins; a handful of hair here, a fistful of fabric there, anchoring himself in their weight, their warmth. They surrounded every single surface of his skin, covered him with small bites and blooming bruises that marked his body as theirs, and Xue Meng arched into every touch, gorged on their whispers in his ears, and fervently hoped that whatever had escaped his mouth this night would not be held against him for all the nights to come.
It was a foolish wish.
“Niangzi, what’s on your mind?” Mei HanXue’s lips grazed the shell of Xue Meng’s ear, hand caressing the sensitive skin to the side of Xue Meng’s waist. His voice was low, filled with a simmering fire that Xue Meng could only glimpse on occasion beneath that impenetrable ice. But that wasn’t true, Xue Meng thought, knowing all too well just how easily that ice melted when Mei HanXue turned his eyes on him.
“N-nothing,” Xue Meng gasped in response. “Ah… ah, stop it, it’s too much…”
“No more thoughts of the conference?” the younger twin asked from underneath Xue Meng. That familiar explosion from earlier had already sent white stars across the entirety of his vision earlier, sent every nerve on fire, curled up every single digit available on his body with the intensity of it. There was something to be said about all that energy pent up from the beginning of their lovemaking, held at bay by stubborn hands until Xue Meng begged for it with his tears and his words, and when the release was at last allowed, it had felt as nothing had ever felt before.
As if Xue Meng had always been incomplete until that moment.
Xue Meng knew just all too well how easy it was to handle him in that state, almost completely insensate with pleasure. Fighting from deep behind the haze, he remembered someone milking every last drop of release, a warm tongue lapping up the spoils, and the bitterness of his own taste on his lips.
“Nng,” he must have said, the words jumbled. It didn’t matter. All of his words must have been kissed out of him. Xue Meng allowed the kisses, the tongue, saliva pooling in his mouth and dribbling out from his half-opened mouth. “Hng… Hanxue…”
“Niangzi is exquisite when he lets go,” he had heard, too out of it to distinguish between their voices. At some point, Xue Meng found himself hoisted on the reclining younger twin’s lap, his bare body maneuvered expertly between their two forms, head lolling, the hardness below completely spent, connected to their bodies by Mei Hanxue’s length within himself.
And now, there was another pressure within him in the form of the older twin’s long, insistent fingers, pulling at the swollen, reddened edges of his entrance, slipping inside even as Xue Meng cried out, futilely shifting. It only drove the objects deeper inside him. “It won’t fit.”
They were truly, truly insatiable.
“It fit before,” Mei HanXue pointed out, leaning in for a kiss. Under Xue Meng, Mei Hanxue squeezed at the tight muscle of his ass, tilting Xue Meng’s back toward his own chest to expose more of Xue Meng’s opening.
That fucking bastard.
“Relax, niangzi, we’ve done this many times before,” Mei Hanxue murmured softly. “Just let us take care of you.”
“It’s not enough time, it won’t fit right now,” Xue Meng groaned out. “Let me… let me rest for a little more.”
Mei HanXue added another finger, stretching at the edges. Xue Meng hissed.
“Xianggong,” he said again, testing the word in his mouth. “Let me rest.”
Xue Meng had seen it once before, in his shizun’s personal room. A mechanical doll meant to protect against minor demons, controlled with a small switch on its back to turn on the creaking gears. It was as if someone had turned on a switch in Mei HanXue’s brain.
Mei HanXue blinked and paused on his track. Xue Meng could scarcely believe that dazed expression that had come over this unflappable tormentor. “Whatever our niangzi wants,” Mei HanXue acquiesced easily, slipping his fingers back out. He leaned down to where those fingers had been; at the same time, Mei Hanxue had slowed his thrusts to a languid, hedonistic pace, lifting Xue Meng easily up and down on his length. It was more intense that way, the way that organ scraped at the inner wall of Xue Meng’s passage, as if hesitant to leave any expanse of Xue Meng’s body untouched, lingering on every crevice until Xue Meng shook with want and energy that had begun to build up once more.
Xue Meng bit his lip. As always, a quick thumb found the abused area, gently rubbed away the sting, and Mei HanXue made quick work of ravaging those parted lips. Xue Meng shuddered between them, his muscles twitching with the strain of being so completely spent and constantly stimulated from the back; the long, slow strokes found their target far too easily, and it almost hurt when Mei Hanxue forced his bottom fully down onto that crotch, seated completely on the full length of that cock.
“I… hngg… Mei Hanxue… ah…”
“What was it you called gege before, niangzi?” Mei Hanxue pleasantly asked, wriggling his hips to drive that cock deeper inside as if such a thing was still possible.
“Ahh… you… stop it…”
“My ears are bad,” Mei Hanxue continued, rubbing at the tight juncture where Xue Meng was split apart upon his length. “Niangzi must have said something.”
Xue Meng gritted out the words with another fistful of Mei Hanxue’s hair. “X-Xianggong.”
“Ah!” Mei Hanxue sighed softly, sounding as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “What is it that my niangzi would like?”
“Finish quickly,” Xue Meng mumbled.
Xue Meng turned around just in time to catch that grin on Mei Hanxue’s face, less gentle than his usual flowing water. This one reminded Xue Meng of a waterfall at the highest point. “At your command, niangzi.”
Perhaps next time, Xue Meng would reconsider his requests before he gave them voice.
“Ahh… I said finish quickly… Mei Hanxue… Hanxue… ah…”
“Patience, Mengmeng.”
“It’s too much… ahh… no…”
The heavens sometimes bestowed small mercies indeed. Xue Meng was lifted up one last time, held in place by the older twin’s hands around his shoulders, the younger twins’ at his hips, and with one last, powerful thrust, Mei Hanxue reached up to grasp his chin, lightly grazing over the bitten lip. “Niangzi, will you hold onto what I give you?”
“Hng… just come already… xianggong, please…”
Mei Hanxue’s other hand moved to the flatness of Xue Meng’s stomach. “I want to make this grow,” Mei Hanxue panted. “Mengmeng, I’m going to make this grow with our child.”
Xue Meng felt that flash of white fire deep inside of him, the warmth reaching into places he didn’t even know existed, and before he could protest, before he could fully voice exactly how ridiculous this entire game had been, the older twin had already lifted Xue Meng onto his lap, hole still dripping with his brother’s spoils, and whatever Xue Meng was about to say was knocked out of him with the force of Mei HanXue’s thrusts into that still-gaping hole.
“My turn,” Mei HanXue said, “and it will be my child.”
“M-Mei HanXue!”
There was the sound of a jingling bell and tinkling laughter. The room spun as his head spun, a ship safely anchored in a tempest, and Xue Meng knew no more.
Their absences at the conference the previous day had indeed been noted.
“Sect Leader Xue, this is for you,” the serving girl in Guyue’ye green bowed to their table. “Sect Leader Jiang had special orders that these be delivered.”
The light gossamer screens of the previous day were back in place, but today Xue Meng chose to draw them back, letting in the morning sunlight streaming from the wide windows of Guyue’ye’s main hall. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, favoring his sore backside, throwing irritated glances at the twins who seemed far too comfortable and self-assured on either side of him.
“My thanks to Sect Leader Jiang,” Xue Meng said formally, frowning. There were many parts of him that wanted to revert back to that brash youth of yesteryear and make a scene in Jiang Xi’s very hall, but it had been a long time since Xue Meng had indulged in that kind of display.
Even the most youthful of sect leaders must grow up one day when the weight of so many others pressed down upon his shoulders. There were very few options; to shudder and collapse, or to grow in stature until one’s body no longer bowed under all those responsibilities.
It was all just a natural part of him now.
The serving girl placed the ivory tray down on their breakfast table, already supplied with a veritable feast that Xue Meng could spy to be the case across the other tables. But on this new tray rested a large plate of seasonal fruits, perfectly peeled and arranged with a precision that Xue Meng would never have the patience for. Persimmon slices, succulent cuts of crystal pears and melon, and segments of tangerines already separated and rearranged as if they had been uncut, all meticulously detailed. The persimmon slices had gathered a sweet honey glaze pooled at the bottom, a testament to their succulence. The serving girl whispered conspiratorially, “This lowly one should not say this to you, but I saw Sect Leader Jiang personally peel the fruits earlier this morning. Sect Leader Xue must be an esteemed guest of Guyue’ye indeed.”
“Is that so,” Xue Meng said faintly.
“The Wubei Temple contingent also requested a meeting with you later, in private,” the girl continued with a smile.
“Thank you.” Xue Meng could not contain the small huff of surprise. Something must have happened at the conference last night for those monks to want a private audience. The girl bowed and retreated, and from both sides of him, the twins already reached out for a slice of pear each, their fingers slightly damp from the sweet juice. “Aren’t those supposed to be for me?”
“They are,” Mei Hanxue easily said with a smile. “Open up, niangzi. Congratulations on the trade agreement.”
“Not here,” Xue Meng grumbled. He cast his eyes toward the head of the hall, but Jiang Xi was nowhere to be found.
A strange emotion settled in his heart. It had been years since that day on Sisheng Peak before the fire took everything away from him.
It had been years since Jiang Xi had first begun to make amends.
Xue Meng swallowed heavily. On his left, Mei HanXue raised one eyebrow. “Should we be worried about Sect Leader Jiang’s intentions on our niangzi?”
A choked off sound escaped Xue Meng’s mouth. They were situated far enough apart from the others that Xue Meng felt no need for any inhibition in his speech. “No. Don’t be stupid. Hey, you do know that you’re the pampered brides in this situation, right? I should be the...”
“The Tyrannical Immortal?” Mei HanXue said. “You are indeed, niangzi.”
“It’s Sect Leader Xue for you,” Xue Meng insisted and opened his mouth anyway.
The slice of pear slid in, and then another. The sweetness burst across his tongue, and the twins smiled at him in such a way that Xue Meng could only chew quietly through the strange feeling in his chest.
“No more impropriety at the conference today,” he warned, opening his mouth for another slice.
“No more impropriety,” Mei Hanxue agreed, but Xue Meng knew all too well never to trust a single word out of that mouth when it came to these subjects.
“Until it concludes tonight,” the older twin said, hand surreptitiously moving toward Xue Meng’s stomach from under the table. The cold metal of his silver belt warmed almost immediately under Mei HanXue’s touch. “We still have another item on our agenda.”
“It might take a while,” Mei Hanxue continued where his brother left off. “I must reread The Tyrannical Immortal and His Pampered Bride for inspiration.”
Xue Meng would burn every copy of that book the moment they returned to Sisheng Peak, he thought sulkily, lips parting for the first persimmon slice, honeyed and sticky.
If he bit down on their fingers at the same time, then it was only due to their own stupidity.
Xianggong, indeed, Xue Meng huffed, and found himself warming from the inside.
It must have only been the persimmon slices.