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“Are you sure you want to hear what I fantasized about as a teenager? It’s going to embarrass gege. You probably won’t want to do any of it, and that’s fine,” Hua Cheng says, naked and on his back inside their gated canopy bed. His husband sits on his heels between Hua Cheng’s legs like a diligent student, beautiful and regal, even stripped out of the God-Pleasing Crown Prince costume he wore for Hua Cheng’s birthday.
In anticipation, both of them are hard and eager for more than they’ve already had. Hua Cheng will never get over watching his husband lose himself to pleasure in front of the mirror in their bedroom, spilling into Hua Cheng’s hand and grinding back against him.
“I want to hear what you want,” Xie Lian says, and lightly grabs Hua Cheng’s ankles to trace circles over the fine bones on the tops of his feet, as delicate as the spokes on a wheel. “I want to make San Lang feel as good as he makes me feel.”
Unabashedly, Hua Cheng stretches across the silk sheets and strokes his cock, tip to base and back. He lets himself go with a smirk when his husband can’t take his eyes away from what he just drew attention to.
“If gege really wants to hear that badly,” he teases, “I can tell him.”
But then the fantasies wash over him, and he finds himself a lot more turned on than he was and weak to the pleasure of it. He wants this desperately, but he’ll survive if Xie Lian isn’t interested.
“I used to imagine you putting me down on the floor on my knees and my elbows,” he says. “I liked pretending your hand was on the back of my neck, holding me down.”
“Really?”
“Mm.”
“And then what?”
“Sometimes, you would prepare me for you with your fingers, but usually, I pictured you using your mouth. That was a favorite fantasy of mine.”
He squeezes his cock to fight off the need that’s quickly building in him. He didn’t anticipate just talking about this would get him so riled up, but it’s easy to recall the things he desired heavily as a teenager after hearing his god moan on Beizi Hill, after touching his hot, sweaty skin and his hard nipples, knowing he was accidentally arousing him. It was wrong: they were in the middle of a civil war, and Xie Lian was suffering, and it was blasphemous on top of all that, but still, that cave was how he learned what carnal desire and romantic love felt like after years of knowing only devotion and quiet adoration. He’s not embarrassed to admit he touched himself to the memory or that his fantasies spun out of control, but he never disgraced a single shrine or statue, relying only on the images in his mind as he pressed his forehead into the dirt and got himself off.
“You want my mouth. Like you… Like you did to me that one time? On…the floor outside the bath.” Xie Lian’s face is bright red, and Hua Cheng nods, already too deep into the mindset of subservience to continue to tease his husband. He slips a thumb into his husband’s mouth, presses the pad of it to his tongue, then trails it out to rest on his bottom lip. Finally, he lets go. Xie Lian agrees, “I can try that.”
“Yeah?” And Hua Cheng can’t help a weak roll of his hips into the air as the possibility is dangled in front of him. He swallows hard. As much as he wants to touch himself, he doesn’t do it. It isn’t his place. He… He wants to be handled for the rest of the evening and well into the night.
Xie Lian releases Hua Cheng’s ankles to tilt his head with genuine confusion. “I just need to clarify. Does San Lang really want to be held down by his neck when we make love? That…seems so mean. I don’t think I can be mean to you, like that.”
“Not mean. It’s… Can I show you?”
Given permission, he rolls onto his elbows and knees, feeling exposed but loving it. He turns his head to the side so that the right half of his face and his eyepatch are buried into the sheets. He invites Xie Lian to slide a hand into his hair, cup the base of his neck, and press down. As he does, Hua Cheng’s mind goes fuzzy. He can’t even remember what he meant to say next, what directions he meant to give, because his thoughts have all blanked. He’s in his god’s hands, trapped between the pressure of his touch and the pressure of the mattress. Cocooned. Safe. Owned. Taken care of.
“I…like giving myself over to you,” he slurs.
Fingernails scritch through his hair.
“San Lang looks so happy like this.” He can hear the smile in his husband’s voice, the sunshine-bright happiness and a small bit of pride, too. “My San Lang.”
“Yours,” Hua Cheng agrees quickly. “I’m yours. I’m all yours. I belong to you.”
“You belong to me?”
“Yes. Take me. Use me. Throw me away. Hurt me. Make me feel good. Anything. As long as I’m yours. Please say I’m yours.”
“You’re mine.”
A hand strokes from his hip to his ribcage, up his spine, then back down. The touch is firm and perfect, and he spreads his legs a bit wider, enough for his hips to ache a little with it. He’s sent spinning, though, when Xie Lian lets go of his head and all that wonderful pressure is gone. Without meaning to, he whines, not proud of it or the way he trembles, but he calms when Xie Lian uses two hands to smooth up the plane of his back. Up, then down. Up, then down. His skin warms under the attention, and his shivering subsides for good when two thumbs dig in on each side of his spine. Up, then down again. It’s best at his lower back—and then Xie Lian grabs his hips with two hands and rocks them together—
“Ah— Your Highness,” he gasps out.
He can feel the length of his husband’s cock against his hole. It would be so easy for him to sink inside, hot and hard and dripping with oil. He could work Hua Cheng open just sliding into him an inch at a time—maybe with minimal preparation—fuck—so that he’s stretched simply by being entered. That way, he’d feel every single bit of—
Hua Cheng groans into the sheets.
“You really like this,” Xie Lian says.
“Yes,” Hua Cheng breathes.
“Tell me what you like.”
“Your hands on my hips. On me, anywhere—like you’re putting me exactly where you want me for you to feel good. I want to make you feel so good, Your Highness, please.”
“San Lang always makes me feel good.” Thumbs rub circles into his hips. “He’s making me feel good right now. I wish you could see how you look. Like you trust me, with anything. Your cheek is red. You’re breathing really hard.” And Hua Cheng is, he realizes. He breathes harder when Xie Lian grabs his waist again, just shy of being painful, and pulls them flush. “I like the sounds you’re making, San Lang. You’re so perfect. You know that? I’m so glad you’re mine.”
Hua Cheng whimpers. He doesn’t think he has it in him to talk anymore. Every muscle in his body feels pulled loose, like the moment of a stretch, that pleasant ache, except the feeling doesn’t fade. He stays suspended in it.
He fists the sheets when Xie Lian kisses the dip of his spine, his silky hair waterfalling over Hua Cheng’s sides. Another kiss, lower. Another, even lower but more hesitant. Another, lower than that but more confident. And then Xie Lian is licking across his hole.
“Fuck,” he whines.
He knows— He— He… Oh. Oh— Oh. Ah, right. He understands something like this can’t be easy for his husband—fuck—taking charge, having so little direction—and he considers telling Xie Lian he can stop, but like a fire sparking to life from nothing, Xie Lian throws himself wholly into his role. Hua Cheng can only moan wildly as he’s spread wider for Xie Lian to enthusiastically work him open with his mouth. He can feel his husband groan against him and debates reaching down to fist his straining cock, but he doesn’t want to let go of the sheets. He pants, nearly tearing a hole in the silk when Xie Lian’s tongue dips inside him. He can imagine being a teenager all over again, but this time, he’s not in a back alley or in the forest, hidden away: he’s on his knees in a shrine—he’s Wuming—bent over by his god and debauched. He wants to serve Xie Lian so badly. He wants to give him pleasure.
“Please,” he begs.
Xie Lian sucks at the skin just below his hole.
“Can San Lang really take me, just like this?” he asks. “Are you sure?”
It takes Hua Cheng a moment to swim upward through the ocean of desire drowning him to form a more coherent thought than fuck me. He’s probably been saying a lot more out loud than he realizes. He doesn’t even care. Let Xie Lian know how much Hua Cheng wants him. How good of a job he’s doing at reducing Hua Cheng to a pathetic heap, molding him into his most useful servant.
He nods. “I can take it. I want it. I want you.”
“You can have me. Of course you have me. I need to go get the oil, though. Can San Lang be a good boy and stay very still like this while I’m gone?”
Hua Cheng gives another vigorous nod and gets a kiss to the dip of his spine for his obedience.
When Xie Lian climbs out of bed, he misses him, but being held in place by a command is just as wonderful as being held in place by his husband’s hands. He’s so good while Xie Lian is gone. No pouting. No squirming. He’s perfectly still, his cock hanging stiffly between his legs. He can’t wait to show off how good he’s been and preens when Xie Lian crawls back into the bed and praises all his efforts.
“San Lang is so perfect. You listen so well. I’m so proud of you.”
Hua Cheng angles his head to the side far enough to see his husband out of more than just his periphery. His hair is pulled up in that golden crown, jade flowers pinned in place, wraith butterflies gleaming softly. There’s a beautiful glow on his face and a light in his eyes. He looks at Hua Cheng like he’s the greatest gift he’s ever received. The best husband he could ask for. The best offering. It sends a flood of warmth through Hua Cheng’s chest. He’s… Xie Lian loves him that much. He’s worthy of his husband. He’s good enough.
He continues to show off his good behavior and patience as Xie Lian slicks his cock with oil, more than he needs to use but enough of it to ensure he won’t hurt Hua Cheng any more than he wants to be hurt. When Xie Lian rubs the head against his hole and dips inside, a little at a time, Hua Cheng moans. So does Xie Lian. Hua Cheng is probably so tight. He probably feels great around his god.
For every two inches Xie Lian works into him, he pulls an inch back out, again and again, working deeper with each thrust, frustratingly slow, but Hua Cheng holds still, he holds still, he holds still, he’s so good, his arms tremble, but he holds still, he—
When Xie Lian is what must be halfway inside, he takes up both of Hua Cheng’s wrists. He grabs them hard and pins them at his hips. It makes Hua Cheng’s shoulders ache and presses his face and chest into the bed—and then Xie Lian uses the hold he has to slam all the way into Hua Cheng with one hard thrust.
“Ah!”
Hua Cheng’s eye flies open, then clenches shut as he whines into the bed. Xie Lian pounds him without letting go of his wrists, keeping him firmly in place every single time he stops to bury his cock in Hua Cheng’s ass, staying there for a few moments before pounding away again. It’s maddening. It’s everything Hua Cheng has ever wanted.
In the past, as Wuming, he definitely would have dissipated on the spot if Xie Lian had bent him over like this and fucked him with abandon. His mask digging into the floor. His knees sore. His god’s cock moving inside him. In and out. Past that ring of muscle. Over that spot that feels magnificent right now. All the way in, as deep as he can get, over and over.
Xie Lian pulls out, folding Hua Cheng’s arms at the small of his back and keeping them in place with one strong hand. He uses his other hand to guide himself back into Hua Cheng. It feels even better being entered a second time. A third, when Xie Lian pulls out again. A fourth. A fifth. The sixth time, he can’t help it—orgasm washes over him and knocks him over before he can stop it. He wails as Xie Lian fucks him through it, fucks it out of him. Harder and harder and harder until he can’t take it anymore. His arms are released, and he scrabbles at the sheets as Xie Lian reaches under him to stroke his cock, working another weak pulse of come out of him. With every aftershock, he shoves himself back onto the cock impaling him, groaning in answer to each of Xie Lian’s frantic moans. Two more thrusts, and Xie Lian stills. Hua Cheng—ah—he squirms with renewed interest, knowing his husband just came inside him. He’s full of him.
“Your Highness,” he says weakly, and Xie Lian slips free of his body, collapsing onto the mattress with a disbelieving laugh.
Before Hua Cheng can drop off the cliff he’s balanced on and hit the ground, he’s tugged into his husband’s embrace and cuddled chest to chest, a hand smoothing across the expanse of his back. He relaxes into kisses dropped on his forehead and the crown of head, into his widow’s peak and back down to the start of his nose. He gets string after string of them to his lips as his husband continues to laugh, light and happy.
“I think I understand now, what you like about this,” Xie Lian says, tangling their legs together, clearly both pleased with himself and the events that just unfolded. His smile is sweet, like Hua Cheng is his precious treasure. It’s a smile Hua Cheng could wake up to every day for a thousand years and still need more of.
“Your Highness definitely enjoyed taking control of me. I don’t think my hips will ever recover,” he says, just to watch Xie Lian blush. “My god took no mercy on this humble believer. I’m not sure I can walk. I might have to be carried for at least a week.”
“Be quiet, San Lang,” Xie Lian says, blush deepening.
“Why? Doesn’t my god want to hear how thoroughly he wrecked this lowly one’s voice and his body?”
“San Lang.”
“Doesn’t he want—”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian whines, and slaps a hand over Hua Cheng’s mouth, his eyes widening when Hua Cheng stops breathing and melts into the touch. “Oh. You…”
Yes. Oh. Hua Cheng didn’t even know he was into this, but he’s definitely not complaining. He’s more than happy to let his god hold his hand tight to Hua Cheng’s face and ruin him again, and then ruin him one more time after that for good measure. By the end of the night, he really can’t walk. He can barely think.
It’s the best birthday he’s ever had.