Chapter Text
The consequence of Gu Yun’s prison break is Chang Geng making a great show of mustering all the forces at his disposal to lock him up as if he’s some royal tribute of war.
Chen Qingxu’s the first line of attack—she writes him a rigorous prescription of remaining horizontal for as many hours a day as possible—which is reinforced by a terribly smug Shen Yi, who carves out time to harass a vulnerable and most pitiable Gu Yun while Chang Geng entertains his court.
When neither has an eye on him, Gu Yun languishes in the imperial bed alone, though if he's very honest, it's because he's still too tired to rise from it. He’s come to terms with his fate long past, and Chang Geng’s heaped enough blankets upon it to keep him satisfied.
Every so often an attendant comes to stoke the heat, though much of the room is warmed through another one of Ge Chen’s inventions—something-something about an ever-burning brazier, whose belly is fed by less than a handful of violet gold, and no coal at all.
Chang Geng, as usual, takes Chen Qingxu’s orders to both heart and extreme, and puts guards up at the wider doors to his rooms, out by the entrance to the palace. Then he steals every one of Gu Yun’s boots and puts them who knows where, leaving Gu Yun only the warmer of his cloaks after taking off with the formal ones, proper robes and all.
Though Gu Yun was born shameless, he does have Chang Geng to protect, even if he doesn’t have personal appearances to maintain. He very well can’t be found trying to make an escape through the imperial gardens anymore. The Taishi Emperor would never live down the image of Gu Yun picking his way barefoot across the palace, wearing nothing but his underclothes and a cloak over it.
Gu Yun turns aside the meals when they come, but takes the tea, and the hot medicine. He can’t afford to take chances with the latter, but the rest, he can’t be bothered with. But, of course, as fastidious as Chang Geng is, he misses nothing when it comes to Gu Yun.
It’s the first thing he mentions when Chang Geng gets back from court, and his attendants have stripped the more expensive of his robes from him in the receiving room. Chang Geng closes the bedroom doors behind him—it’s the two of them, as always—and the first thing out of his mouth is, “Yifu didn’t eat today.”
Gu Yun, who’d come to meet him halfway, rolls his eyes. “And His Majesty’s been volunteering in the kitchen without my knowing?” he says. He tugs at Chang Geng’s earlobe. “You don’t know how I’m taking my meals.”
“I only ask,” Chang Geng takes him by the wrist and backs the two of them down onto the bed. “Because you make me worry.”
He pushes Gu Yun down into the mess of the blankets, then crawls on top of them and buries his face in Gu Yun’s shoulder with a little sniff. He’s been terribly sticky since Gu Yun fell ill.
Gu Yun sighs, and presses his lips to whatever he can reach of Chang Geng—his temple, his cheek, his brow—while his hands are busy undoing the hair crown from his head. Gu Yun pulls it off, he shudders, full-body. He scratches at Chang Geng's hair, loosening the last of a long week of playing emperor.
“Was it terrible, today?” he asks.
Chang Geng’s voice is muffled where his face is pressed to his shoulder. “No worse than usual,” he says. “Treasury and infrastructure spent most of their time trying to bite each other’s heads off. I thought I’d end up with a double suicide in my court.”
Gu Yun laughs. He pinches Chang Geng’s chin between thumb and forefinger. Amused, asks, “And how did my emperor handle it?”
Chang Geng's eyes are starting to get very dark. “We didn't have to. The guards came and separated them.”
“Hm,” Gu Yun says. Chang Geng has no real point playing coy about all this, besides the fact that the games are what really does it for him. What a little degenerate. “Mine?”
“Yours,” Chang Geng agrees. He pushes the both of them a little better into the bed. So it really is doing it for him. “The Black Iron Battalion remains steadfast as always.”
“I didn’t see them when you came in.”
“Well, they have their duties," He slips his hand into Gu Yun’s robes, pushing them up, and then open. "And I have mine.”
“They'll be talking about it by sunfall—that you’ve been seduced from your duties by some wayward concubine,” he teases. “A week of restraint was too much, was it?”
Chang Geng doesn’t rise to the bait. “No,” he says. “Doesn’t yifu remember? He’s been ill much longer than that.” He spreads a hand over Gu Yun’s ribcage, holding him, brushing a thumb over the scars—new, old, and even older—over his skin. A few are gray with age, the worst of the few are twisted and raised. The most recent of them, where Chen Qingxu’s steel cast had kept Gu Yun’s body from falling apart, are young, pink.
“You didn’t have to wait so long,” Gu Yun says softly. “It hasn’t been so terrible these days.”
“I had to.” Chang Geng disagrees. “You’re too careless with your health, Zixi. I can’t count how many times I’ve turned up to you coughing blood, and you try to convince me in the next breath you’re alright.”
Chang Geng’s mouth goes from Gu Yun’s neck and all the way down his front. It’s been so long since they last did this that Gu Yun’s practically flinching every time Chang Geng presses his lips to his skin.
“It was wartime,” Gu Yun protests. “Everyone was coughing blood.”
Chang Geng, who’s settled between Gu Yun’s legs, and pushed them apart, bites the inside of his thigh hard. Gu Yun swears, and tries to close them. Chang Geng grabs them hard enough to bruise, and keeps them open.
“Were they?” Chang Geng says. Gu Yun can’t hear him so well anymore, but he can guess well enough, the words, from Chang Geng’s lips. When Chang Geng lifts his head, his eyes have gone sharp, his expression has gone sort of relentless and unflinching, daring Gu Yun to keep going.
Gu Yun dares. “Shen Yi was nearly burnt coal, by the end.”
Chang Geng’s face darkens. His grip gets tighter around Gu Yun’s thighs. How unfair, Gu Yun thinks. That the boy has only ever gotten stronger, while Gu Yun all the less, spending his days largely deaf, and mostly blind.
“I’d rather,” Chang Geng says, low. “You not talk about Shen Yi when I’m about to fuck you.”
Gu Yun opens his mouth to return, but Chang Geng puts his mouth on Gu Yun and the rest of the words fly out of his mouth. He nearly tears the bedsheets under his hands as his body arches off it. Chang Geng doesn’t let him get far, jerking Gu Yun’s hips down again, into the wet of his tongue, his mouth, the two fingers he slips into Gu Yun’s cunt, forcing him to admit—it really has been a while since they’ve done this.
Chang Geng eats him out like he always does. Hungry, relentless. Gu Yun had made fun of him for it before—what, have I turned into the emperor’s rice-bowl? —to which Chang Geng had followed up by torturing Gu Yun for nearly an hour afterwards. Every time Gu Yun was about to come, the bastard pulled his mouth away, and bullied some other part of Gu Yun’s body instead.
It seems, today, that Chang Geng’s prepared to show him a sliver of decency. He’s quick to make Gu Yun come, and doesn’t make any mocking remarks about his stamina either.
The problem comes when Chang Geng doesn’t stop afterwards. Gu Yun swears, and pushes at Chang Geng’s head.
“Stop, stop,” he gasps. “Enough, Chang Geng. I can’t—”
Chang Geng catches Gu Yun’s hand with one of his own. He raises his eyes, but not his head, and cocks an eyebrow. He pulls off of Gu Yun, wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “You can,” he says. “And you will. Until I say stop.”
Gu Yun, just able to make out Chang Geng’s voice from where’s been put on his back, can only stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
Chang Geng cocks his head to the side. “Should I repeat myself?” He strokes Gu Yun with his thumb, replacing his mouth, while he speaks. “Yifu’s hearing isn’t very good, I know.”
Gu Yun closes his mouth, swallowing the rest of his words back down. He’s learned it’s better for his health that he doesn’t fight Chang Geng once he gets like this. There’s nothing he can say to slow him down, nor anything he can do to stop him, literally.
So Gu Yun gives in, and lets Chang Geng have his way.
Chang Geng’s eyes curve with satisfaction. It would be sweet, were it not Gu Yun he was satisfied over. When Chang Geng puts his mouth back on him, it’s just the edge of too much. Gu Yun fumbles for something to hold. His legs won’t stop shaking. Chang Geng gives his hand over, and doesn’t flinch when Gu Yun’s grasp tightens, possibly, to the point of pain.
Gu Yun is quicker to come the second time. But it hurts more.
“I’m done, I’m done,” Gu Yun says. This time he means it. “Chang Geng, please.”
Chang Geng leaves him with a few more swipes of his tongue before letting go of Gu Yun’s legs. “Sorry,” he says, not looking sorry at all. “Got carried away.”
Gu Yun rolls his eyes. “I’m sure,” he says.
As Gu Yun levers himself upright against the headboard, and draws one knee towards himself, Chang Geng makes to climb out of bed. He gets up on one knee before Gu Yun hooks his fingers in his sleeve. “Where are you going?” Gu Yun asks.
Chang Geng freezes. Gu Yun doesn’t have to say it, for him to understand.
Chang Geng’s lip slides into a pout. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
More, is what he wants to add, but doesn’t.
Gu Yun sighs, draws Chang Geng’s face down to his, cold fingers curling through the strands of his imperial hair. “I think,” Gu Yun says. “I’d be the one who knows best about that, no?”
Chang Geng’s pout gets deeper. His eyes are particularly shiny. Gu Yun raises an eyebrow, feels the corner of his mouth twist into a smile. For all his lack of stamina, the smirk is only faintly wicked, he’s sure. But Chang Geng always does better with a challenge, than sympathy.
Gu Yun pulls him a little closer. His arm really is getting sore. “All that talk about ravishing your concubine,” he says. “Yet His Majesty has barely taken his clothes off.” Gu Yun trails a finger down Chang Geng’s throat, tugging loose his innermost collar. “Might this humble subject offer his assistance?”
Gu Yun can see the moment Chang Geng's resolve breaks. He’s always been so charming that way—shy, shameless, then shy again. Gu Yun leads him the last of the way, hooking two fingers in the silk of Chang Geng’s belts and, with proficiency that comes from countless practice, undoes the knots, the ties, and sends them slipping to the floor.
His fingers go to the thin ties on the inside of Chang Geng’s robes. The outer layer, the second, buttercup yellow, then the last white one. Gu Yun could do all this with his eyes closed. On occasion, he has.
Chang Geng’s robes gape open at the front. Gu Yun slides his palm from Chang Geng’s throat to his stomach, slips his fingers into the hem of his trousers, then takes Chang Geng in hand, stroking gently.
Chang Geng presses himself against Gu Yun, and Gu Yun into the bed, his body one long slide of heat where they lay together. Chang Geng, predictable as always, goes right for Gu Yun’s neck. He bites without warning, almost hard enough to break skin, and definitely too high to hide beneath even the highest of Gu Yun’s collars.
Gu Yun sighs. Such are the consequences of being careless, having picked up a wolf cub in a snowstorm on the Northern border and carried it home by the scruff. Gu Yun supposes he’s the one getting scruffed now. It’s very hard, or rather impossible, to move, when Chang Geng’s the one on top of him.
The teeth go from Gu Yun’s neck to the catch of his throat, scraping a little, then tonguing at the bruise. Gu Yun gets a hand in Chang Geng’s hair and yanks him back up. His emperor’s eyes are flushed so dark they look blood red in the low light.
Gu Yun presses his thumb to Chang Geng’s mouth, who parts his lips and sucks it in. Gu Yun splays the rest of his fingers across his cheek, which is so hot he wonders if the boy’s somehow caught himself a fever in the last hour they’ve spent here, with Gu Yun plastered to the imperial sheets.
“Your Majesty,” Gu Yun says. His voice comes out soft and a little raw, mostly because he can’t get it any louder. What, with the noises Chang Geng had forced out of him earlier? He bares his throat a bit. “Your Gu-fei has an appeal.”
Chang Geng’s whole face goes feral, and he nearly bites Gu Yun’s fucking finger off.
Hah. He knew that would do it.
Chang Geng grabs his wrist just hard enough to bruise, but not break him all the way, drawing Gu Yun’s thumb from his mouth, and pins his arm to the mattress. Then he shoves one leg between two of Gu Yun’s, nocks it up against him, hard.
That’s the end of Gu Yun’s gloating.
His body arches on its own accord; he swallows whatever noise he wants to make back down, attempting to save face; Chang Geng leans in until his lips brush Gu Yun’s ear. “Speak, then,” he murmurs, the words dripping with the cadence he uses in public. Low and measured. Unmoving. Ah, so he hasn’t quite pulled himself from court, has he? “Your emperor is listening.”
Chang Geng doesn’t need to be that close—Gu Yun’s not that deaf yet, many thanks—but who is he to stand in the way of Chang Geng and his questionable perversions? Though, when his lips brush the shell of Gu Yun’s ear, it takes all his effort not to shudder.
That does mean, however, that Gu Yun sucks in his next breath so fast he chokes. Chang Geng, pressed as close as he is, definitely wouldn’t have missed it. What did he always say? When it comes to matters that concern you, there’s no one that knows better in all of Great Liang.
Gu Yun supposes it’s time to throw what little’s left of his shame out the window. It’s not like he ever wins with Chang Geng anyway.
Still, he can’t let him get his way so easily. “Gu-fei wants a kiss,” he says—soft and very sweet. Two can play at this game. “And then your cock.”
Gu Yun can’t see Chang Geng’s face from this angle, but it doesn’t matter. The thigh between Gu Yun’s legs presses harder against him, almost to the point of pain.
“Gladly,” Chang Geng says.
He sits back a moment to strip the last of his robes off, and when he leans back down, Gu Yun rests a hand against Chang Geng’s front, fingers splayed, feeling for his heartbeat. Though he can’t see that well, he can see enough. Hm.
Chang Geng stills. “What is it?” he asks. A thread of concern touches his voice.
Gu Yun smiles, and pulls his hand back. “Nothing,” he says. “I’m thinking—my emperor is very beautiful.”
Chang Geng goes red. Gu Yun rolls his eyes, then yanks him back down.
“Come on,” Gu Yun says, against his lips. “Don’t you have some ravishing to do? The day’s not getting any younger, Your Majesty.”
Chang Geng sighs, aggrieved. “Noisy as ever,” he says.
“Oh?” Gu Yun says. “I thought you liked that. Certainly, I’m not the one trying to always—”
Chang Geng kisses the words from his mouth, and swallows them down. Gu Yun prepares to put up another fight, some kind of tease, but Chang Geng keeps kissing him—very wet and very messy. He slips his tongue into Gu Yun’s mouth, then holds him by the chin so he can’t twist away. Chang Geng breaks for a breath, then goes back for more, tipping his head to the other side this time, gets maybe a little rougher.
All the noises Gu Yun likes to hide come spilling out now. Chang Geng has his mouth wide open, all but eating him alive.
Gu Yun’s hands fly up to Chang Geng’s neck, clinging on, when Chang Geng replaces the thigh between his legs with his fingers. He strokes them down—when the fuck did Gu Yun get so wet again?—then puts two of them into him in one easy motion. They’ve fucked too much for Chang Geng to not be able to do it without looking.
Gu Yun’s hips cant downwards without his permission, searching for more. Chang Geng is as methodical as ever. He doesn’t speed up, but neither does he slow down. His teeth catch Gu Yun’s lip; he bites enough to make it sting. Chang Geng pulls back to let Gu Yun breathe when he sticks a third finger in along with the rest, then presses his thumb to the head, then strokes, just enough.
Gu Yun feels like he’s dying. It’s at once too much and not enough. “Chang Geng,” he gasps, feeling particularly bullied. “I don’t—need all this. It’s fine.”
Chang Geng lifts his head enough so Gu Yun can see him. The look on his face is all but telling Gu Yun not to push it, and it’s a look he knows very well.
“Our concubine dares,” he says. “To tell us what to do?”
Gu Yun’s mouth clicks shut.
Shit. Why does this always happen? Chang Geng’s too good at taking Gu Yun’s games and throwing them back in his face. Why Gu Yun doesn’t know better by now, he’s not sure, but takes a moment to pity himself all the same. How can one be so eager to kick a man already down?
Then there’s the way Chang Geng's addressing himself too. Formal us, our, and we landing like heavy stones in a riverbed, rattling around and around in Gu Yun’s head.
Gu Yun doesn’t think he can reply without sounding pathetic, so he doesn’t. Chang Geng lets him off the hook this time, and goes back to driving Gu Yun mad with his fingers. Chang Geng’s hands are large enough, and he knows too well what to do with them too, how to twist them upwards just right to make Gu Yun’s whole body respond without his permission. Even through tears and bad vision, Gu Yun can still see that satisfied look plastered all over Chang Geng’s face.
“It’s not that I’m being cruel,” Chang Geng says. His voice is even, though his hand moves faster. “It’s just that Gu-fei is quite small, and we’d rather not make him bleed.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gu Yun wants to turn over and die. He feels like a butterfly with its wings pinned, or a prey animal that’s just been caught. The worst part isn’t even that all this talk is doing it for Gu Yun, but that all this talk is doing it for Gu Yun, and Chang Geng knows it.
Chang Geng pulls his hand from Gu Yun, which is wet down to the wrist. Chang Geng brings them close for him to see. Gu Yun wishes his eyesight was worse.
Chang Geng parts his fingers. Or, rather, tries to. They’re stuck together—
“Oh my god,” Gu Yun says. “Please don’t—”
—by Gu Yun’s slick, which clings to his fingers like honey.
Then, without once looking away, Chang Geng puts his fingers in his mouth, and licks them clean.
“Very good,” is His Majesty Taishi’s stupid assessment.
Gu Yun puts his hands over his face.
Chang Geng lets him, but he leans down afterwards, kissing Gu Yun’s head, then his temple, the corner of his humiliated mouth, then properly, slotting their lips together once, twice.
Gu Yun can feel Chang Geng hard against his thigh. But, suddenly, his little emperor isn’t doing anything about it though, or seems willing to try.
Gu Yun lowers his hands. “Chang Geng,” he says, softly. “You really can fuck me now.”
Chang Geng doesn't move, so Gu Yun reaches down instead, and wraps a hand around his cock, which is so hard it makes him sigh. How willing Chang Geng is to suffer for his sake.
Gu Yun draws him in, twists his own hips down. He doesn’t have much leverage beyond that, but Chang Geng takes the hint and then takes over the rest of the way. He brackets Gu Yun’s head between his arms, then hooks an elbow beneath one of his knees, taking his weight, spreading him open.
The head of Chang Geng’s cock slips in. Already, Gu Yun feels the stretch of it, the small burn. Chang Geng goes slow—which drives Gu Yun mad—but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows he can’t handle anything more. Chang Geng gets about halfway in, and then stops.
Gu Yun smiles. “Come now, Your Majesty,” he says. He wraps his arms around his neck, scratches lightly at his hair. “Have I done something to deserve such punishment? It’s worse to be taken halfway, than not at all.”
“I don’t think I should,” Chang Geng says. “You’re still really—”
Yes, it’s always a tight fit. No, he’s not sure why Chang Geng’s tortured himself into such a complex today.
“But how will I,” Gu Yun says. “Give my emperor an heir, if he doesn’t?”
Chang Geng goes rigid in his arms. His hips jerk forward without his permission; Gu Yun’s body rocks with the motion, and this time he doesn’t swallow his moan, to spur Chang Geng on the more. He finally picks up the pace, and takes Gu Yun all the way—one smooth stroke until he’s buried up to the base, groaning as he bottoms out.
Chang Geng hooks both of Gu Yun’s legs with his elbows this time, practically bending him in half, and starts fucking him right. He can’t go very fast—Gu Yun’s usually not able to keep pace anyway, and this time they’re both aware that pace has dwindled to something even worse—but Chang Geng does know where to push, where to press, how to drive Gu Yun mad. All, of course, thanks to his—ah—diligent study of all things Gu Yun. Even what kind of sex he likes best.
Every time Chang Geng pushes in, he hits that place which makes Gu Yun’s whole body go numb. When Chang Geng pulls back, Gu Yun can feel his body clinging on, his sex refusing to let go; he can’t help but clench down around Chang Geng’s cock, as if afraid he’ll leave him empty.
Gu Yun’s body seems to have finally understood what’s happening, the slide of their bodies gets easier. Gu Yun’s wet down to his thighs, can hear how much of it there is, feel how loose he’s become. He’s turned into a livewire of pleasure. He can’t seem to get control of his breathing. Either it’s the air being ripped from his throat, or it’s the gasping, which Gu Yun’s finally too tired to hold back.
Then, without warning— “Here?” Chang Geng murmurs, and presses down, low on Gu Yun’s belly, where a little of his stomach protrudes.
Gu Yun makes a strangled noise, almost, but not quite, a sob. He digs nails into Chang Geng’s shoulder, trying to hold on.
“Ah,” Chang Geng says, having found his answer. “Here.”
Then he splays his open palm against Gu Yun’s stomach, shoves his length as deep as he can get it, and presses, almost violently hard, down. Gu Yun arches so far off the bed, he nearly slides off Chang Geng’s cock.
“Chang—” Gu Yun can barely talk, through all the pleasure he’s being put through. “Geng. You.”
Chang Geng ignores him. He pulls back, thrusts in, keeping the pressure on Gu Yun’s stomach, and takes him again and again and again, quite literally fucking Gu Yun, who can no longer help himself, until he cries. The tears spill from his lashes without permission, rolling down his cheeks, to his temples, until his body is no longer his, but Chang Geng's, rather, to own.
Chang Geng leans down, returning to that stately demeanor of his, voice spilling from him like a sovereign, voice like honey in Gu Yun’s ear. “Tell us, Gu-fei,” he murmurs. “How does it feel when your emperor fucks you?”
Gu Yun opens his mouth, but the words catch in his throat. Closes it. Catches his lip between his teeth. For all Chang Geng’s just put him through, Gu Yun didn’t realize there were still things he’s too embarrassed to admit.
He can’t speak, and won’t answer, and Chang Geng can see it.
So he pulls out.
It’s the worst thing Gu Yun's ever felt.
His body clamps down around nothing, desperate to be touched, pleasured, taken. Gu Yun tries to pull Chang Geng back down, though he knows it’s a futile effort. Then the last shred of his resolve shatters.
Gu Yun doesn’t mean to beg, but, “Please don’t,” he gasps.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t go.”
The corner of Chang Geng’s mouth tips upward. “We haven’t,” he says. He brushes the hair back from Gu Yun’s face. “But is there something else Gu-fei wants?”
Chang Geng really wants to kill him.
Gu Yun swallows. “I want him,” he says, after a very long time, with Chang Geng waiting patiently for him to speak. “Inside—me.”
Chang Geng thumbs at his chin. “That can be done,” he says. Chang Geng slips the head of his cock back into Gu Yun. “But those who misbehave should apologize first.”
Fucking hell.
Even to Gu Yun’s own ears, he sounds desperate. “This concubine—” Why he can’t shake off the honorifics, why he’s treating all this as if it’s real, he doesn’t know, but also he’s too terrified to stop. “For his mistakes, his disobedience, his—” What else is he supposed to add?
Chang Geng pushes into Gu Yun a little more. It’s not enough.
He repeats his question. “How does it feel,” he says. “When your emperor fucks you?”
Gu Yun swallows. His voice drops so low even his own ears can’t hear. “Gu-fei can feel it,” he says. A tear breaks from his lashes. Chang Geng’s face is placid and unwavering before him. “It in—” His voice dies a little further. “His throat.”
Chang Geng shoves himself the rest of the way in.
Gu Yun doesn’t even have time to scream. Chang Geng covers Gu Yun’s mouth with his. Now he’s really biting. Now he’s really violent. He sinks his teeth into the side of Gu Yun’s throat, where he’d left marks before, and keeps them there until he bleeds. Gu Yun’s making high and horrible noises, whimpering like a beaten animal. Chang Geng doesn’t demand a faster pace, but his thrusts deeper somehow. It feels like Gu Yun’s being cored.
His body curls into itself. Then arches away. His blood pounds in his ears. He doesn’t want to know what he looks like, sounds like, but apparently it’s really doing it for Chang Geng, who says—
“I should put a child in you,” he says, as if in contemplation. He barely sounds winded. “All emperors need an heir, after all.”
Gu Yun shoves his fist weakly against Chang Geng’s chest. “You’re a fucking—regent,” he says. “You don’t even want the throne.”
“But I want yifu.”
Huh?!
Where did this come from? Gu Yun nearly falls off the bed. What’s with the sudden switch—Gu-fei, Gu-fei, this emperor, yifu?
“See, if he carried my child,” Chang Geng says, and grinds so deep into Gu Yun he sees stars. “He would have to stay by my side. He would need my house, my money, my protection.”
Gu Yun wants so desperately to come he can’t fucking see. “I’m infertile,” he says. “I can’t carry children. The poison—”
“Hm,” Chang Geng says. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep you here until you do.”
Gu Yun, horrifically, finds his body responding. Before he can protest again, Chang Geng touches two burning fingers between Gu Yun’s legs. Moving them slowly, at first, then faster and faster, giving Gu Yun’s what he’s wanted all night. Chang Geng slides a hand under his hips, lifts them just a little. Gu Yun scrambles for a hold, fisting his fingers in the bedsheets. His legs have long gone numb.
“Chang Geng, you’re—” Gu Yun gasps. It feels like he’s actively attempting to rearrange his guts. “In my—” How is he supposed to describe it? “Womb.”
“Well, I have to ensure it takes,” Chang Geng says, nonplussed, and keeps going. “The child, I mean.”
Gu Yun feels a building pressure in his gut, a little like something’s pushing up against his bladder. Full. No, nope. His body is so eager to betray him today. He thought Chang Geng had humiliated him thoroughly enough; how’s he supposed to find one more?
“Chang Geng, hah, stop I’m going to—”
Chang Geng nudges Gu Yun’s cheek with his nose. Presses a kiss, so light he could be imagining it. “Going to what? Come?”
His fingers move faster. Gu Yun’s mouth falls open. The moans fall out.
Chang Geng, actually, is the one to come first. He’s a burst of heat in Gu Yun’s body, an endless shudder within him. Gu Yun clenches around his length, drawing the rest of Chang Geng's climax from him, canting his hips down, holding him close. They really haven't done this in a while. It takes Chang Geng a moment to catch his breath, then drag himself out of Gu Yun with a slick noise.
But he's always been good at taking care of Gu Yun. He lowers himself between Gu Yun’s legs and licks himself out of him, to tongue at the head of his cunt, to work three fingers back into Gu Yun’s body.
“Come on,” Chang Geng says. “Let go.”
“But I’ll—”
Chang Geng smiles. “Good.” And devastatingly, adds: “Zixi.”
It sends Gu Yun over the edge.
Wetness bursts from Gu Yun. Chang Geng doesn't flinch. If anything, his fingers get deeper, his hand moves faster, as if high on pleasure too. Gu Yun's spend, like water, soaks his thighs, Chang Geng’s wrist, the sheets beneath them.
Gu Yun's vision goes white. His ears ring like a struck bell. He’s distantly aware that the longer he comes, the worse he sounds. Begging, a little, as his body shakes violently, his stomach clenching so hard it hurts. Hands flying to Chang Geng’s forearm as he curls into himself. He doesn’t know what else to do.
But Chang Geng’s fingers don’t stop moving. It’s like he’s pulling Gu Yun’s orgasm out of him, which lasts so long he’s afraid it’ll never stop.
He thinks he might have passed out from the force of it. The next thing he feels is Chang Geng dragging his thumb a few more times over him before pulling his fingers away. Gu Yun’s body feels like it's been bruised, so even that aches too.
The world tilts sideways even as he lies there and lets Chang Geng clean the rest of him up, put down a cloth over Gu Yun’s spend, to cover the wet sheets, and slides into bed beside him.
Gu Yun makes a vague noise as Chang Geng gathers him up in his arms. He’s too tired to fight him off. Even lets Chang Geng brush the sweat-soaked hair from his temple, lets Chang Geng kiss him there—then the shell of his ear, the overheated turn of his cheek. Chang Geng tugs at Gu Yun’s earlobe with his teeth, right over his mole. What a pervert.
“Yifu,” Chang Geng starts hesitantly. He brushes a hand over the bite marks on Gu Yun’s throat. “Did—did I—”
Gu Yun already knows what he’s about to ask. He smiles, though with closed eyes, at him. “I would’ve stopped you,” he says. “If it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“But I made you—”
Gu Yun kisses him. Soft, very sweet. The press of lips to lips, stemming the flood of anxiety he knows is about to pour from Chang Geng’s mouth. “You meant it.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to keep me, and you meant it,” Gu Yun says. “Yifu’s sorry he can’t bear you an heir, but he meant it too.”
Chang Geng swallows. His hand tightens around Gu Yun’s waist. Now he’s the one holding on. “You still—you still want me?”
Gu Yun rolls his eyes. Then flicks Chang Geng on the nose. “I let Your Majesty sully my beautiful womb with your spend,” he says. “You think I’d let anyone else do so?”
Chang Geng can’t argue against that, Gu Yun knows. Chang Geng falls quiet. Then, as if embarrassed to do so, tucks his head into the crook of Gu Yun’s shoulder, wanting his comfort but too shy to ask for it properly.
After a moment, Gu Yun feels a little wetness on the side of his throat. Chang Geng’s tears come out in poorly-tamped hiccups.
“Oh, darling, hush,” Gu Yun says, patting his chest like he might with a child, over and over, an artificial heartbeat. “I’m here, Chang Geng. It’s alright.”
The second year and first month of Taishi.
Gu Yun wakes late. Sunlight slants through the window. As expected, sleep in his own bed in the Marquis estate is softer than in the palace. The room is on the left side of warm, but the perfect temperature for him. How uncomfortable Chang Geng must have been in the night.
Gu Yun pushes himself upright. His chest throbs, though it aches only a little. He rubs a hand across it, to ease away the pain. It only takes him a moment to gather himself these days. There’s a clatter from the doorway. Gu Yun looks up, squinting, and sees Chang Geng making his way over, serving tray in hand.
“Zixi,” he says, when he sees Gu Yun awake. He sets the tray down and catches Gu Yun by the arms when he tries to stand.
Gu Yun laughs. “Good morning,” he says. As Chang Geng kneels between his legs—an entirely unnecessary gesture, though the boy has always been full of unnecessary gestures—presses a kiss to the top of Chang Geng’s head. “Won’t you let me out of bed?”
Gu Yun sees Chang Geng legitimately consider it for a moment, the little brat. “Yifu’s not properly dressed,” he says. “You’ll get sick again.”
Gu Yun quirks an eyebrow, amused.
Yet, like always, he lets Chang Geng have his way. Chang Geng dresses him layer by layer, like a particularly favored doll. Winter socks, sheep-wool trousers, robes warm from the fire.
He even makes Gu Yun turn aside so he can brush his hair and twist half of it from his face with a jade hairstick, then sweep the ends of it over Gu Yun’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the mole on his ear, then up to the one on Gu Yun’s cheek.
“Such a lengthy bout of molestation,” Gu Yun comments wonderingly, when Chang Geng keeps going. “Your porridge will go cold, Your Majesty.”
Chang Geng pulls away. “Not porridge,” he says. “You woke too late. The kitchens were already killing chickens when you did.”
Gu Yun pushes himself to his feet, for if he doesn’t, Chang Geng really is going to keep him in bed for the rest of the day. He enjoys stripping Gu Yun as much as he loves dressing him.
“Come, you're dishonoring your chickens, letting them go cold," Gu Yun says. "And this subject might wilt from hunger in the meantime.”
Chang Geng wraps an arm around his waist. “Let me,” he says.
Chang Geng walks them over to the table, fastidious as always. Gu Yun rests against his side and keeps his complaints to himself. There are worse things to suffer through, he supposes, and there’s nothing to be ashamed about between the two of them. Gu Yun's chest only hurts when he inhales too quick. Mostly, he’s tired.
Chang Geng sits beside him. Gu Yun wants to call for his monocle, but Chang Geng ends up slipping a pair of gloves onto Gu Yun’s hands instead.
Gu Yun squints down at them. "If you'd like me to eat," he says. "Gloving my hands is not quite the way to go. How can I pick anything up like this?"
"You don't need to." Chang Geng picks up his chopsticks. "I'll feed you myself."
In Chang Geng's defense, he has prepared all of Gu Yun’s favorite dishes, though never feeds him the same bite more than twice in a row. When Gu Yun reaches for his teacup, Chang Geng brings it to his lips for him. How on earth he knows how much to pour, is beyond Gu Yun.
The meal is perfectly proportioned. Chang Geng's hands are steady, but Gu Yun can tell something's not quite right. Chang Geng wipes at his mouth afterwards with a little cloth, but before he can turn away, Gu Yun pulls one of his gloves off with his teeth and touches the skin beneath Chang Geng’s eyes. It’s wet.
“What is it?” he says softly. How the boy has so many tears to shed is beyond him.
Chang Geng wavers for a long moment. Then he says, sounding ashamed. “Not even Chen Qingxu knew what it was.”
This again? Gu Yun thinks.
“Chang Geng,” he says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He picks at a seam on Gu Yun's robes. "Yifu, I..." Chang Geng is quiet, eyes downcast. Then says, entirely non-sequitur. “The plum blossoms are about to bloom."
Gu Yun, thrown, glances out the window. Humoring him, says, "In another month, perhaps. It's early in the season yet." His hand falls from Chang Geng's cheek. "I didn't realize Your Majesty had concerns about the palace gardens."
"Only this year," Chang Geng says. "Because I wanted them to come sooner."
Gu Yun is quiet. It often takes Chang Geng some time to figure out what he's trying to say. Even longer to admit the truth to himself, and then confess it to someone else.
Chang Geng's lip trembles. He bites down on it, trying to make it stop. "Chen Qingxu said," he repeats, stubborn. "That even she didn't know what it was. So I thought, maybe."
Chang Geng breaks the skin of his lip. Gu Yun hurries to stem the blood, using the edge of his sleeve. "Maybe?" he asks.
"That when they did bloom," Chang Geng says, and now all the words are tumbling from him in a rush. "It would be too late, and you wouldn't be with me anymore.”
And suddenly, Gu Yun's in a hot tent at the start of the war, buried in a third month of snow.
The plum blossoms in the Marquis Estate are at the end of their season, Chang Geng had written.
Gu Yun remembers the fever-haze of those weeks he spent eating and vomiting, eating and vomiting. Nothing stayed down, not even the medicine. He couldn’t see, nor could he hear. But then came that most innocent and painstaking letter Chang Geng had sent him.
I hope you saw the flowers as you departed, or their efforts will have gone to waste, another year spent on fruitless endeavors. Even if they bloom again next year, the blossoms won’t be the same.
It was the only reason Gu Yun had lived.
You must be very busy, and not missing me at all…but it’s not the same for me. The capital city is too lonely. Aside from you, I have no one else to miss.
But he still hasn’t told Chang Geng about any of that, has he?
Gu Yun turns to Chang Geng, who wears his hair pulled tightly from his face in a bun, held together by a golden crown. His hands are just very slightly bigger than Gu Yun’s, as he cradles them in his own. His shoulders are wide and steady beneath his robes. But, for all of that, his eyes are uncertain when he finally lifts them to meet Gu Yun’s.
There he is, beneath the fine brocade of his throne and office. Gu Yun's boy.
Affection surges within him.
Gu Yun takes Chang Geng’s hands and presses them tightly to his chest, in the space above his heart. Lets Chang Geng feel it beat again and again. “You must know that I love you,” he says, because Chang Geng always needs to hear it.
Chang Geng lets out a little sob. A helpless smile touches both edges of Gu Yun’s lips.
“So stay with me,” he says. “And I’ll stay with you.”