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They were halfway to the Allied Forces’ southern boundary when the sun came out. Shen Wei pulled back his hood and looked around, conscious of the breeze on his bare face. The heavy clouds were finally breaking up.
Meanwhile, Kunlun had dropped his bag and flopped onto his back on the grassy slope. “Let’s rest here a while.”
“Are you hurt?” Shen Wei went to one knee beside him. “I have a power of healing.”
Kunlun smiled up with a complete lack of shame. “I’m not hurt. Don’t you ever just want to take a break and rest?”
Shen Wei had already agreed to patrol without his mask. Was this a further test of his self-discipline, to see if he could be persuaded to shirk their assignment altogether? Some of Kunlun’s strategies involved tricking the enemy, but he had not yet given Shen Wei reason to doubt his good faith. Still.
Shen Wei straightened. “I’m not tired.”
“It doesn’t have to be about tired. Come on, take it easy for a bit.” Kunlun patted the ground and closed his eyes.
The closed eyes seemed conclusive: he was serious. And the place he’d indicated was very close beside him. If Shen Wei lay there, they’d be shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.
Well, the patrol was routine, mostly an excuse to familiarise Kunlun with the terrain, and there was no sign of danger, no one around at all except a colony of rabbits grazing across the slope; Shen Wei supposed it couldn’t hurt to take a moment or two. His body was warm and energised from walking, and he’d worked up a slight thirst. He set down his bag, took out his water skin, and sat next to Kunlun to drink.
The water was refreshing, almost sweet. Shen Wei wiped a drip of sweat from his bare brow and took in their surroundings. Some of the tall grasses were topped with feathery seeds, shimmering in the sun. Among the stalks, small red flowers glinted like sparks and insects hummed. Somewhere not far off a falcon was calling, its cry distinct in the clear air.
Kunlun’s long legs were stretched out, splayed slightly, and the way his fur gaped at his neck drew attention to the line of his throat.
He had been the best of companions since the moment he arrived. Shen Wei had never known anyone so self-assured, playful, and comfortable in his company; in response, his own heart had become an unfamiliar thing, softened and happy.
And now that they were here, completely alone, Kunlun seemed even more relaxed. His lashes fanned his cheeks, his brow was unlined. Even the creases around his eyes were almost smoothed away. Had he actually fallen asleep on patrol?
He wasn’t a lazy or slipshod man. He volunteered for more duties than his rank required and pulled his weight when he did them. In motion, he was sharp and sparkling, quick to venture an opinion but just as ready to close his mouth and listen if the speaker had something worth saying. He gossiped with the camp cook and the sentries, teased the Cat Yashou, Da Qing, and was always, always within view when Shen Wei looked for him. From the start, Shen Wei’s admiration and respect had sprung up, natural and well-founded, and they’d only grown.
He hadn’t expected this.
“Kunlun, where you’re from, does everyone lie around wherever and whenever they want?” Shen Wei flushed as soon as he said it. How could he criticise his benefactor?
But Kunlun let out a shout of laughter. “My people are indeed like that. They’re the bane of my existence, the slackers.” His warm crinkling gaze invited Shen Wei to share the joke, and he added, “But isn’t it right that, when an opportunity arises, we savour the small pleasures? We could be drawn into battle any day now. We need to remember the kind of life we’re fighting for.”
Small pleasures. Ah, the same reason Shen Wei had stayed up past his sentry shift, that first night, talking with Kunlun as the stars wheeled overhead. It had been self-indulgent; he needed his strength and wits to wield his blade in battle. But Kunlun’s energy weapon had sent the Rebels packing for the time being, and Shen Wei had been irresistibly drawn to the man, basking in his warm smiles and attention. He had no regrets.
Kunlun was digging into his belt pouch for one of his hard sweets. He pulled it out, along with an empty white stick, regarded them for a moment, and said, “I suppose I should save this last one, for now—oh, unless you want it? If so, it’s yours.”
“No, thank you.” It was a generous offer, so like him, but Shen Wei would not deprive him of his last sweet. It was a wonder Kunlun hadn’t eaten it already, given the number of times Shen Wei had seen him toy with it and put it away again. That habit was what had prompted Shen Wei to visit the camp kitchen this morning.
Kunlun tucked the shiny ball back into his pouch and slipped the empty stick between his teeth with a rueful sigh.
Shen Wei hadn’t expected this opportunity to arise quite so soon; he felt a little lightheaded. Clumsy with haste, he extracted a small delicate parcel from his own belt pouch, meaning to offer it directly to Kunlun, intact, and anticipating his pleased reaction.
But Kunlun’s eyes had fallen shut again. His face was tipped up to catch the sun’s rays, as if they provided consolation for his lack of sugary sustenance. The stick at the corner of his mouth sat at a steep angle, almost lying on his cheek. It was starkly white against his short, neat beard, and his full lips were softened and inviting.
That first night, Kunlun had taken Shen Wei by surprise, popping a sweet into Shen Wei’s mouth like an explosively-flavoured kiss, though they’d only just met. Now, after three days of constant companionship, liking the man even more, Shen Wei decided to pay him back.
Cradling the packet in his palm, he peeled back the waxed cloth. The honeycomb inside had been a hard amber lump when the cook had given it to him, but its journey at Shen Wei’s belt had melted its heart. He dipped his index finger into the sticky pool and, careful not to drip on Kunlun’s clothes, leaned across. With the hand that held the packet, he plucked away the white stick, and before Kunlun could react, he slipped his anointed finger into Kunlun’s mouth.
Lips closed like a sprung trap. In the enclosed wet heat, Kunlun’s tongue swiped against his fingertip. Shen Wei could sense him discovering and tasting the honey. Then a soft, insistent suction pulled Shen Wei’s blood to the surface—at first, just on his fingertip, but then—as if in sympathy—all over his body. His other fingers, curled loosely, rasped against Kunlun’s short beard, and his stomach clenched and melted at the same time. Once more he was welcomed, accepted, able to show his true self—all things he’d felt in their dealings ever since that first conversation.
Greedily, he pushed his finger in further, up to the knuckle. The flat of Kunlun’s tongue pinned him to the roof of Kunlun’s mouth, and the suction tightened, raising a clamour in Shen Wei’s blood. He gasped.
Kunlun froze. The suction broke. His eyes opened. He caught Shen Wei’s hand and slowly pulled his finger from that hot, intimate place.
The wet skin contracted in the mountain air, and Shen Wei likewise tightened with nerves. Kunlun had granted him favour, he’d been kind and generous with his praise up till now. What if this reckless trespass made him pull away and treat Shen Wei more formally?
But even faced with that risk, Shen Wei couldn’t quite manage to apologise. His finger was throbbing and trembling, and so was his heart. He cleared his throat. “I brought honey to supplement your sweets.”
Keeping hold of Shen Wei’s fist, Kunlun rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow. “Xiao Wei,” he said, softly, “trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to.”
Then what? thought Shen Wei, lost in the depth of that voice, in the warm endearment, and in a groundswell of inchoate desire that had been growing and building for days, though he’d avoided examining it too closely. He felt hot all over, at once hopeful—because surely Kunlun felt something like this too, with his shining gaze and indulgent smile and that mouth—and despairing—because at the end of the day, Shen Wei was the Black-Cloaked Envoy. Even the great Kunlun wouldn’t dare to lie with him.
For a flash, Shen Wei missed his mask.
Except there was no wariness in Kunlun’s gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his lips as red as the flowers dotting the grass. And he’d called Shen Wei Xiao Wei, an absurd address for one with the Envoy’s fearsome reputation.
Shen Wei’s throat was parched. He swallowed. “When you look at me, you don’t see me as Hei Pao Shi, do you?”
“I see many people when I look at you.” Kunlun’s expression was hard to read. “All the sides of you. I wish I could— Never mind.” His teeth dug into the yielding flesh of his bottom lip, and two lines deepened between his eyebrows. Gently, perhaps reluctantly, he released Shen Wei’s hand and reached for his belt pouch. Then came one of his dry, breathy laughs as he rediscovered his sweet shortage. “Is there more of that honey?”
“Yes.” But when Kunlun held out his hand, Shen Wei didn’t relinquish the packet. His finger still felt pleasurably swollen and sensitive, and he—he wanted to be inside Kunlun, to feel that connection again. Only if Kunlun was amenable, of course, but he’d said he wanted to. He hadn’t given a reason to stop.
This time, Shen Wei swiped two fingers through the molten honey and held them out, twisting his wrist to keep sticky strands from dripping onto the grass. Silently challenging Kunlun to accept his invitation.
Kunlun’s gaze flicked from the offering to Shen Wei’s face. His eyes were dark, but he didn’t move. “Ah, Shen Wei.”
A thought struck. Shen Wei didn’t know much about Kunlun’s life or his family. Of course a man so accomplished and well-favoured would already have obligations. “You’re pledged to someone else,” he guessed.
Kunlun gave a surprised laugh. “How could I be, when I’ve only ever had eyes for you?”
That made no sense. It didn’t sound like he was talking about just the last three days. “What do you mean, ‘ever’?”
Kunlun’s smiled faded. “I already told you I’ll have to leave without warning. And there are other things I can’t say. I don’t want you to have any regrets when—”
Shen Wei slipped his fingers between Kunlun’s parted lips. He’d heard enough.
If Kunlun’s reservations had been borne of duty to other people or to the war itself, that would of course have been reason to hold back. But Shen Wei didn’t want protecting, especially not from this. His life had been barren of friendship since he was a child; the fact that the one to breach his solitude was this kind, gentle, laughing man—how could he waste time worrying about the future? We need to remember the kind of life we’re fighting for.
The interior of Kunlun’s mouth was just as luscious the second time, and as it drew tight around Shen Wei’s fingers, Kunlun closed his eyes again. His brow furrowed, and he gave a low moan. The air of gentle caution, the uncertainty, even the humour—all melted away in his enthusiastic reaction. And with the hot, satiny clasp of his muscles and the vibration of his voice, Shen Wei couldn’t help echoing him.
He wasn’t sure what was moving Kunlun the most—the sweet honey, Shen Wei’s fingers, or the two together, but anyone who kept an empty white stick between his lips must enjoy having something there. Shen Wei thrilled to give him that satisfaction, and to feel his response in a way Kunlun couldn’t hide.
Distantly, Shen Wei was aware of his own body stirring, arousal spreading through his belly and pooling between his legs, but his attention was all for the place where he and Kunlun were joined. For the sinuous pulsing rhythm of Kunlun’s mouth.
Kunlun moved his head, and the tight ring of his lips slid over Shen Wei’s knuckles, followed by a light scrape of teeth. Shen Wei’s lips parted on a ragged breath. The contrasting sensations were glorious. The hunger inside him swelled to fill his lungs and his throat till he could hardly breathe. Kunlun’s mouth was so wet, and the saliva must be sweet now, still with traces of honey—or had he licked and swallowed that away?
Shen Wei’s mouth watered. He pulled free to scoop more honey—quick and careless, enlivened by the way Kunlun craned after him—and thrust his fingers back into Kunlun’s open mouth, making him moan appreciatively again. Kunlun sucked hard, taking in their full length so his beard scratched Shen Wei’s palm, an astonishing sensation. Shen Wei’s desire thickened and hardened, and he exclaimed wordlessly.
Strands of honey and saliva were dripping onto the grass and down his wrist, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to keep this blissful look on Kunlun’s face—and to lick the sweetness from his lips.
He was just about to put this impulse into action, to bend and taste the seam where his fingers entered Kunlun’s body, when Kunlun opened his eyes.
The heat of his gaze was a lightning bolt setting Shen Wei aflame. What had previously been vicarious excitement was overwhelmed by an urgent need, every part of him burning to be touched. Kunlun wrapped his hand around Shen Wei’s arm like a wrist guard, and for a second, Shen Wei feared this would be the end of it, that Kunlun would remove his fingers and regretfully explain why they couldn’t do this. What if these few stolen moments were all Shen Wei would ever have of him? But Kunlun didn’t stop. He guided Shen Wei’s fingers in and out and slowly in again, holding Shen Wei’s gaze, openly savouring.
In his trousers, Shen Wei’s erection pushed against his drawers; his cheeks and ears flushed hot, and his breath came fast and heavy—without any of the bitterness of panting after a hard battle. This was sweet and hopeful and increasingly desperate.
Kunlun adjusted his grip on Shen Wei’s wrist. His eyebrows twitched, and he dragged Shen Wei from his mouth, a devastating end. But rather than releasing him, Kunlun began to lap at the sticky smears of honeyed drool on the rest of Shen Wei’s hand—thoroughly cleaning his thumb, the clefts between his fingers, the crease of his wrist. Shen Wei shivered, transfixed, his familiar hand made new by the probing attentions of Kunlun’s tongue.
He wanted to add more honey to prolong the experience, but he didn’t have a spare hand to scoop it with. Inspired, he held out the packet and drizzled a strand of golden liquid directly onto his skin. He was aiming for the base of his thumb, but in avoiding Kunlun’s hair, he dripped it onto his own wrist.
Kunlun huffed, almost a laugh, and yes, yes, closed his lips over the knob of Shen Wei’s wrist, shut his eyes and sucked wetly, in obvious enjoyment, as if Shen Wei himself were one of those hard sweets.
Shen Wei shivered. He couldn’t keep still. Casting the honey packet aside, he tumbled down to lie pressed against Kunlun’s side. His clothes twisted and rucked up, but he didn’t care. Kunlun was his, his to touch and kiss and pleasure. To prove it, he traced the line of Kunlun’s beard with kisses.
Kunlun groaned and angled to meet his mouth in what Shen Wei was sure was the richest, sweetest, most sun-drenched and swollen kiss the world had ever known.
They were interrupted by a bee, attracted by the honey. Kunlun pulled back, laughing, to swat at it, but it landed on Shen Wei’s hand, which by now was clenched around a handful of Kunlun’s jerkin. As the insect trekked towards Shen Wei’s thumb, flickering curious feelers, Kunlun said, “Ah, Shen Wei, always impossibly alluring. I can’t resist you either.”
Shen Wei laughed. “Good. Why would you? Isn’t it right to savour the pleasures of life?”
He flicked the bee away and rolled onto his back, dragging Kunlun half on top of him to resume the kiss and deepen it, welcoming Kunlun’s tongue into his mouth, revelling in the weight of him, feeling the heat everywhere in his body. Kunlun met his kisses readily and kissed back, but he made no move to progress things. He stroked Shen Wei’s hair and touched his face, but seemed to be holding back, letting Shen Wei set the pace. Shen Wei didn’t want restraint and care. He wanted Kunlun to be as caught up in the moment as Shen Wei was himself. Decisive action was called for. He took Kunlun’s hand and clamped it, through his clothes, against his erection.
Kunlun’s reaction was all Shen Wei could have hoped. He immediately shaped Shen Wei’s length and, swearing fervently under his breath, began to rub him with a strong, practiced grip. Gratified, Shen Wei groaned and dug his heels into the ground, stiffening as his tension mounted and sharpened into an exquisite cataclysm. When it reached its height, he pulled Kunlun close and gasped against his neck as he came.
Afterwards, Kunlun raised up to look at him. “All right?”
His voice was rough and warm like a sunbaked blanket, and the knowing affection in his eyes reached into Shen Wei and wrapped him in confidence and gladness. Come to think of it, that affection had been there from their very first meeting. Shen Wei didn’t know why, especially since he’d been wearing his mask to start with, but right now he was far too satisfied to conduct an interrogation.
“Mm. What about you?” he countered. Kunlun’s eroticism probably didn’t stop at his mouth. “Will you show me what you like?”
“Your power of learning, hm?” Kunlun teased, turning Shen Wei’s confidence of a few days ago into something light and playful. Kunlun’s tongue came out to wet his lips, and his smile turned soft and fond.
He met Shen Wei’s kiss with a mouth as ripe as a soft peach. As they kissed, they worked together to open Kunlun’s trousers. Kunlun shimmied down the strange shiny skintight garment underneath, baring himself from navel to knee, revealing his thick, blood-flushed arousal. Shen Wei took a moment to appreciate the sight.
Stripped bare, the legendary general was thin and unexpectedly soft, and he seemed not much older than Shen Wei. Shen Wei laid his hand flat on the far side of Kunlun’s pale smooth stomach and curled fingers around the hipbone, surprised by a protective impulse where, until now, his heart had only held esteem, admiration and yearning.
He continued absorbing the scene: sparse body hair, an old scar—
“Don’t tease,” murmured Kunlun.
It sounded more plea than reproach. Shen Wei couldn’t deny him. “Show me,” he said again.
Kunlun’s eyes gleamed. “Okay, watch closely.”
He took his shaft in a firm grip and stroked it for half a dozen beats, much slower and more lingering than Shen Wei would have done.
“Fuck, the way you look at me—” Kunlun trailed off and let his erection slip free, then reached for Shen Wei. And Shen Wei’s heart throbbed: this was Kunlun’s hand, still warm from touching himself; these were Shen Wei’s own fingers that had been inside Kunlun’s mouth, sucked and cleaned by his lips and tongue. The collision of the two felt wanton and thrilling.
Shen Wei had heard his soldiers used oil for things like this, but he didn’t have any. Kunlun didn’t seem concerned. He wrapped Shen Wei’s hand around his erection and squeezed, and Shen Wei took the hint. He began to slide his fist up and down in a careful, easy motion.
“Shen Wei, that’s so good, just like that. Don’t, ahh, don’t stop.” Kunlun took his hand away, leaving Shen Wei to continue, and tangled his fingers in Shen Wei’s hair to coax him down for another kiss.
This kiss was messier and disjointed. Kunlun was breathing hard, murmuring endearments into his mouth, and Shen Wei glowed with achievement and reflected excitement, thrilling at every broken syllable, every twitch and throb of Kunlun’s cock in response to the steady strokes. Kunlun’s beard was making Shen Wei’s lips even more sensitive, and an echo of Kunlun’s arousal built in his own body. His blood surged and his heart thumped, and soon his cock was pleasantly hard and aching once more.
But the real pleasure came from making Kunlun feel good. He was already hitching his hips impatiently—until he suddenly stopped. “Wait a sec.” He caught Shen Wei’s wrist again, brought it up and swiped his tongue from the heel of Shen Wei’s hand to his fingertips. “Like this.”
Of course the slide was easier with spit; it would be even better with oil. Next time, Shen Wei promised himself, speeding up.
Kunlun cheeks flushed. “Shen Wei, Shen Wei, I—”
“I’m here,” Shen Wei said, gripped by another wave of protectiveness. Their mysteriously easy connection, the instinctive mutual understanding, and this, this moment, Kunlun half-naked in his arms, all suddenly felt as natural and inevitable as the forces that kept the stars in the sky, water wet, and fires blazing. Shen Wei’s blood tripped and stumbled into a wild new rhythm. “I have you.”
As if the words struck a chord, Kunlun clutched Shen Wei’s shoulder and spilled with a cry onto his bared stomach. He was gloriously unselfconscious about it, as if he knew how much Shen Wei was treasuring the sight.
When he was spent, he blinked up at Shen Wei, at first unfocused, and then with a soft wonder. “Xiao Wei.”
“I’m here.” Filled with heady affection, basking in Kunlun’s satiation, and heedless of the mess, Shen Wei fell on him and abandoned himself to the embrace. Kunlun must have completely set aside his earlier qualms, because his hands roamed everywhere now—over Shen Wei’s back, his legs, his rear—but they returned over and over to cup his jaw, to touch his face as if he were special and precious and somehow known.
Emboldened and driven by these unabashed caresses, Shen Wei caught Kunlun’s thigh between his legs where he most needed pressure. Once Kunlun understood, he laughed a little and smoothed Shen Wei’s hair back. “Again already?” But his humour faded as they moved together.
This time when Shen Wei came, it was with Kunlun pressed hard up against him, Kunlun’s arms around him, Kunlun’s mouth on his. It rocked him to his core—his own personal meteor, upending ordinary life. He suddenly thought he understood the reservations that had seemed so foolish before: because now Shen Wei had experienced this—this playful closeness, this joyous physical togetherness, this tenderness, pleasure and release—how could he bear to lose it again. Every fibre of him rebelled at the prospect.
“All right?” Kunlun’s hand cupped his cheek with such care.
Shen Wei couldn’t answer. He turned his face into Kunlun’s palm and breathed in his scent, the musk of sweat and sex, the sweetness of honey; carefully, he committed every detail to memory. He promised himself that when the war was over, he would find Kunlun, whatever it took. They would be together again. He rolled off, onto his back on the grassy ground. “We need to finish our patrol.”
“Yeah.” Kunlun pulled up his shiny drawers and straightened his clothes, but neither of them moved to get up. They lay side-by-side under the growing gap in the clouds, sunlight pouring over them like honey, fingers intertwined. Kunlun drew Shen Wei close again and shut his eyes. “We can stay here just a little longer.”
“Mm.” Small pleasures. Shen Wei sat up enough to scan the slope. Still nothing but rabbits. He lay back down, returning to indulgence—which reminded him.
The honey packet was on the grass next to his waterskin. Most of its contents had spilled out, and a bee was drinking from the puddle, but there was some sweetness left in the waxed cloth.
Biting back a grin, Shen Wei dipped his fingers in and brought them to Kunlun’s lips. “Open up.”