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Pei Huai doesn’t recognise him at first, when the boy turns up at his door. “Pei Huai?” he asks carefully, and then it clicks.
“Tang Fan,” Pei Huai answers warmly, and steps aside to let him into his consulting rooms. Tang Fan’s eyes dart around curiously. There’s still a graze on his cheek. It’s been a week since the explosion, so it’s mostly healed, Pei Huai is pleased to note.
“I came to thank you,” Tang Fan says hesitantly as Pei Huai holds his sleeve back to pour them tea.
Pei Huai waves a hand dismissively. “Thank luck and good fortune,” he says, “that you were not badly hurt.”
Tang Fan shakes his head. “Thank you for… for giving me a task. A mission.”
Pei Huai had instructed him to save as many people as possible, only eager to recruit whatever able hands as he could. He was surprised to return later to find Tang Fan running his patch of desolation as an efficient rescue-and-replenish station.
Pei Huai smiles. Tang Fan had been wearing students’ robes, then. “Have you returned to the Academy?”
Tang Fan shakes his head. “I graduated. On the day of the explosion, actually.”
Pei Huai’s mouth twists ruefully. “I’m sorry.”
Tang Fan brushes the sympathy off with a smile that has a hint of mischief in it. “At least now my teacher is letting me stay in the dormitories a little longer. I start work at the Shuntian Prefecture next month.”
“Ahah, very good,” Pei Huai praises. He was surprised to see Tang Fan at his door. But now he thinks he understands, as he sees Tang Fan smile shyly at him. He’s probably feeling alone, suddenly tossed adrift into the world with such unanticipated violence. Pei Huai has always been good at caring for people, and people who need caring for have always been drawn to him.
It’s no surprise, then, that Tang Fan appears in his consulting rooms frequently over the coming weeks. He loses his hesitance, becoming more precocious the more he realises he can get away with, teasing Pei Huai and sulking whenever Pei Huai claims he’s too busy to entertain him.
“Pei-xiong,” Tang Fan calls him in a whine one night when he’s trying to drag Pei Huai away from his books to some noodle restaurant on the other side of town, and Pei Huai looks up at him in surprise. He supposes they have become friends; aside from all the hassling to buy him meals, they have helped each other on a case or two over the last month or so.
Tang Fan pouts. “You must be too old to know how to even have any fun any more.”
Pei Huai sniffs, and closes his book with a snap. “You really are young and foolish if you believe that, Tang-xiongdi.” He stands up.
Tang Fan grins as if in victory, and flits out the door, ivory robes flowing behind him. Pei Huai sighs and follows him more sedately.
It turns out Tang Fan isn’t a boy—he’s just turned twenty. His mannerisms are immature, though; Pei Huai finds himself rolling his eyes every time Tang Fan complains about not having any money (though he spends his new salary entirely on food), or about how difficult it is to get ahead working as an official (though he is smart enough to know how things work). Every time he arrives at Pei Huai’s rooms around dinner time to flop dramatically onto the swing and pout at him like a sullen child, Pei Huai finds himself suppressing an exasperated sigh.
He can’t find it in himself to resent Tang Fan’s growing attachment, though. As he’d learned medicine himself, he’d relied on the attention and care of his mentors, and here Tang Fan is, suddenly thrust out of his own education, the older men he’d studied with all dead. If anything, Pei Huai is flattered. And if Tang Fan is nice to look at, Pei Huai is not going to feel bad about it. He’d learned many useful things from his mentors while studying, not only about how to treat patients but about his own body; the development of his relationship with Tang Fan into something physical is not outside the realm of possibility.
Still, he will wait for Tang Fan to come to him, if that’s what Tang Fan wants. Pei Huai suspects it hasn’t even occurred to him. He has to reconsider this position approximately two months into their friendship, when Tang Fan gets thoroughly drunk while they’re out to dinner at Tang Fan’s favourite noodle restaurant.
He hasn’t drunk much more than Pei Huai himself, but his lack of experience with alcohol shows. “Pei-xiong,” Tang Fan drawls, sprawling across the table towards him. “Will you take me home?”
Pei Huai raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Back to the dormitories? You can take a carriage. Ah, ah—!” he cuts off Tang Fan’s complaints. “I’ll pay for it.”
“I can’t,” Tang Fan says, his tone rounded by his pout. “I don’t live there anymore.”
“What?” Pei Huai blurts, startled. “They threw you out? What did you do?”
Tang Fan waves a hand in the air, his head still on the table. “Nothing, I never did anything. Teacher said that now that I’ve been working for a month, I need to strike out on my own and find somewhere to live.”
Pei Huai’s eyes narrow. “And when did he tell you this?”
Tang Fan sighs dramatically. “A week ago,” he says into the table.
Pei Huai isn’t sure if it’s calculation or incompetence that has led Tang Fan to this terminus: drunk in a noodle restaurant with nowhere to sleep, sprawled out on a table in front of perhaps his only friend.
Pei Huai sighs, leaving some coins for the restaurant owner before hauling Tang Fan to his feet. They make it barely halfway down the street before Pei Huai knows for certain that Tang Fan is putting on an act; he’d come up and into Pei Huai’s arms far too easily, and he’s clearly dragging his feet deliberately. His breath is sweet from the wine when he drops his head onto Pei Huai’s shoulder.
“Aiya, stand up,” Pei Huai says, not ungently, shrugging him off. There is only so much of the act he’s willing to put up with, especially if Tang Fan wants what Pei Huai thinks he wants. “You are a terrible actor.”
Tang Fan sniffs sullenly and stiffens, drawing away. His gait is still a little clumsy, though not as exaggerated as it was a moment ago. Definitely not sober, then. Pei Huai sighs, and places a gentle hand on the centre of Tang Fan’s back. “Must Tang-xiongdi always get what he wants?” he teases, leaning in a little closer than perhaps propriety allows to speak close to Tang Fan’s ear.
Tang Fan jerks his head around to stare, and Pei Huai raises an eyebrow; a moment later, Tang Fan’s wine flush deepens and he looks away again.
It’s a pleasant evening for a walk, and Pei Huai enjoys the leisurely stroll back to his house, even as Tang Fan fidgets beside him. Let him fidget, Pei Huai thinks. He has tormented Pei Huai with his bratty behaviour enough over the past weeks to deserve it.
When they enter the courtyard of Pei Huai’s house at last, Tang Fan hesitates, lingering behind him. Pei Huai turns back to look at him from where he’s standing in front of the door to his home, rather than the door to his consulting rooms. “Do you want to sleep on the examination bench?” Pei Huai asks him, and Tang Fan hurries to follow him inside.
Tang Fan is still a little drunk, malleable, so Pei Huai presses him into a stool at the dining room table, his long legs folding down suddenly. “Wait here,” Pei Huai says, and moves into the kitchen to put tea on and arrange his thoughts. Tea will help to sober Tang Fan up a little more, as will giving him some time on his own in the other room. With any luck, he’s using this time to consider what he really wants—a room for the night, or to share Pei Huai’s bed.
By the time Pei Huai comes back with a tray of tea, steam rising faintly from the spout of the pot, Tang Fan is sitting upright at the table with his hands folded neatly in his lap, a determined look on his face. Pei Huai measures him up as he approaches, and holds back a fond laugh.
It’s stolen from his mouth, though, when Tang Fan takes advantage of him leaning over to place the teacup in front of him: Tang Fan reaches up swiftly to hold the side of Pei Huai’s neck, pulling his head down to press his lips to Pei Huai’s clumsily. The laugh has Tang Fan drawing back immediately, and an instant later he’s surging to his feet about to storm out the door.
“Ah, ah—” Pei Huai exclaims, catching him before he’s managed to take more than two steps; he reels Tang Fan back in firmly with a grip above his elbow.
They stand with their toes nearly touching, Tang Fan staring at him with wide eyes. He speaks, finally, the silence was beginning to get unnerving. “Pei Huai, if your intent is to mock me—” he starts primly, then snaps his mouth shut when Pei Huai reaches to brush a wisp of hair from Tang Fan’s temple; it must have come loose when Tang Fan dropped his head on Pei Huai’s shoulder earlier.
“There,” Pei Huai says softly, already enjoying the feeling of seniority rising in him. “There’s no need to be such a child about it.” He takes hold of Tang Fan’s face, fingers splayed over his jaw and his thumb tucked under his chin. Then he directs Tang Fan’s mouth to his, and gives Tang Fan a leisurely, exploratory kiss. Tang Fan melts into him after a moment, and Pei Huai can’t help but smile against his mouth. He draws back gently, and Tang Fan takes a moment later to open his eyes: they’re dark, liquid. His breath is unsteady against Pei Huai’s mouth. “That’s better,” Pei Huai says with satisfaction, and lightly pats Tang Fan’s cheek before stepping back. “There is a bath behind the second door on the left, and my bedroom is opposite. You may use the clothes in the bathroom if you prefer not to put your dirty ones back on,” he says.
Tang Fan’s brow tightens in a faint frown, and Pei Huai raises an eyebrow at him. “Would you prefer the guest room?” he asks frankly.
Tang Fan shakes his head, and Pei Huai makes shooing motions until Tang Fan turns and scurries back out into the courtyard. Pei Huai takes a deep breath once he’s left, licking his lips thoughtfully. Then he puts the unused cups back onto the tray and takes it back into the kitchen.
He lights the lanterns in his room, leaving the door open a crack both to make it easier to find, and to let the cool evening breeze wash through. He strips, then washes with cloth and basin, putting on his sleeping clothes afterwards. His cock is stirring a little in interest, both from being handled while he washed, and at the thought of Tang Fan’s lips, the blush crowning his cheeks. Pei Huai sits on his bed and lets himself enjoy the memory as he combs his hair.
After a little while, the door swings open noiselessly, and Tang Fan appears, flushed and damp from the hot water, wearing Pei Huai’s underclothes. “Close the door,” Pei Huai instructs, then pats the bed next to him when Tang Fan turns back around.
Tang Fan hesitates. “Pei Huai,” he says seriously. “I feel that I shouldn’t proceed any further without making my intentions clear.”
Pei Huai feels his eyebrows lift, though he manages to hold back his laugh this time, remembering Tang Fan’s reaction earlier. He gestures broadly for Tang Fan to continue. “By all means.”
Tang Fan clasps his hands in front of him; the gesture either nervous or rehearsed. It’s also adorable. “I know we haven’t known each other long,” Tang Fan starts. “But since we first met I’ve admired your knowledge and experience. I’ve deduced from visiting you over the past few weeks that your expertise extends to… matters of the bedroom.” Here, Tang Fan stops. Pei Huai keeps his smile muted; he hasn’t made a secret of the comings and goings of his lovers around Tang Fan, but he hadn’t realised Tang Fan had noticed, discerning them from his usual patients. “Lao Pei,” Tang Fan says, tone determined. “Will you teach me?”
Pei Huai blinks, speechless for a moment. He had expected Tang Fan wanting to be pushed around a bit, had pictured him complaining petulantly about Pei Huai’s technique while Pei Huai thoroughly fucks him. But this? Arousal catches hold of the warm interest that Pei Huai has been nurturing, turns into a roaring fire. What a gift.
He pats the bed again. “Come, come here. Hurry up.”
Tang Fan obeys, crossing the room in a few strides and perching on the edge of the bed. He’s not nervous, Pei Huai realises—he’s excited. “Of course I will, you silly boy,” he says, indulging himself, tucking Tang Fan’s damp hair over his shoulder. He can’t resist, then, taking Tang Fan’s face in his hands again, tilting his head for another kiss. Tang Fan’s mouth opens under his, and here, in his own bedroom with Tang Fan wearing his clothes, Pei Huai takes advantage of it. Tang Fan’s mouth still tastes faintly of wine, rich in the corners of his lips, and he mimics the press and pull of Pei Huai’s mouth, his tongue darting curiously.
When Pei Huai finds his hand creeping up Tang Fan’s thigh, he draws back, breathing hard. “Where are the gaps in your knowledge?” he asks, his voice already lower.
Tang Fan blinks, licks his lips. Looks away, as though he can’t meet Pei Huai’s eyes. “That was not your first kiss,” Pei Huai says in denial, feeling equal amounts thrilled and horrified. “You went to the Hanlin Academy! You have lived in dormitories for the last ten years!”
Tang Fan draws himself up primly. “I was focused on my studies.”
“And now?”
Tang Fan’s eyes dart around the room before returning to meet Pei Huai’s. “I wish to change their direction.”
Pei Huai doesn’t smother his laughter this time, and Tang Fan isn’t offended; if anything, he relaxes a little more, casting his gaze down and looking up through his eyelashes teasingly. “How does laoshi want me?”
“Aiya,” Pei Huai breathes. “What a good student, deferring to the master. Here, here.” He undoes the tie of Tang Fan’s undershirt and parts it carefully, pushing it just past the caps of Tang Fan’s shoulders before taking him in his arms again, kissing first his mouth, then the corner of his jaw and his smooth throat, down to the angle of his shoulder. Tang Fan gasps, tilting his head to allow better access, and his fumbling hands grasp at Pei Huai’s chest, grabbing fistfuls of fabric and holding on.
When the only thing holding Tang Fan up off the bed is Pei Huai’s arms, Pei Huai draws back and smiles down at him. He’s flushed and disheveled, pink all up his chest to his blotchy cheeks, mouth glossy and open. “Lie down,” Pei Huai says, helping him to shift properly onto the bed. Pei Huai has not scrimped on fine materials for his bedroom, and Tang Fan’s pale, smooth skin complements his silk sheets perfectly.
“Laoshi,” Tang Fan says when Pei Huai is braced above him. His hands fiddle with the ties of Pei Huai’s shirt. “Will you undress too?”
Pei Huai huffs a laugh. He has to admire that Tang Fan is persisting with the act of the innocent student, but he’s seen Tang Fan’s expert emotional manipulation in action before; is this what he thinks Pei Huai wants? He grasps Tang Fan’s wrists, pins them on the bed next to his shoulders. Then ducks down to growl into Tang Fan’s ear, “Only if you give up the act.” He bites the side of Tang Fan’s neck, not gently, and Tang Fan yelps and squirms; a genuine reaction. Pei Huai pins him down with his hips, his thigh pressed between Tang Fan’s legs, pleased to find that Tang Fan is hard.
Pei Huai lifts up again to look into Tang Fan’s face, raising an eyebrow. Tang Fan scowls at him sullenly; that’s more like it. “Laoshi is a cruel teacher,” he says, exaggerated and put-upon, but he laughs when Pei Huai growls again and buries his face back in Tang Fan’s neck, rubbing the bristles of his beard against the soft skin, gnashing his teeth.
He lets go of Tang Fan’s wrists, and Tang Fan pulls at his clothes; Pei Huai sheds his shirt at last while they kiss with increasing intensity, and Tang Fan runs his hands over Pei Huai’s back and shoulders ceaselessly, palms smoothing, fingers exploring. By the time they’re rocking their hips against each other, Pei Huai figures he should check in again.
“What do you want?” he asks softly, studying Tang Fan’s dark eyes, feeling his chest heaving under his. As much as Tang Fan had said teach me, if this is his first time then Pei Huai isn’t about to instruct him on just pleasuring his partner; first he needs to learn how good it is for himself. And Pei Huai can make it good. This much he has absolute confidence in.
Tang Fan shakes his head a little below him. “I… don’t know. I mean, I’ve read some books, but they didn’t—”
Pei Huai sighs. Ah yes, spring books. One of these days he’s going to write his own—realistic, anatomically correct—novels, then young innocents like Tang Fan won’t set out into their first sexual experience with so many misconceptions about what to expect. “Aiyo, never mind,” he says, not unkindly. “Laoshi will take care of you.”
Tang Fan shivers beneath him, and Pei Huai grins. “You will say something if there is anything you do not like,” he tells Tang Fan sternly, and Tang Fan nods.
He kisses Tang Fan one more time before drawing back, taking a moment to consider his strategy while stripping off the rest of his clothes. Tang Fan is like a blank page, or the start of an experiment when the findings are still unknown. Pei Huai has no doubt that whatever methods he chooses, the outcome will be successful: Tang Fan is too young and hot-blooded for it to be anything but. But perhaps what Tang Fan deserves is not to be gentled and soothed through his first time. After all, Pei Huai thinks as he recalls all the times Tang Fan has irritated him thoroughly out of what he was trying to do in order to pay attention to him instead—What Tang Fan really deserves is for Pei Huai to make him lose his mind, with a slow build of tension and frustration.
Tang Fan’s eyes are fixed on Pei Huai’s bared cock as Pei Huai kneels on the bed, and Pei Huai can’t help but smirk. “Hips up,” he says, and Tang Fan hurries to comply so Pei Huai can strip off the last of his clothes as well. Tang Fan is just as hard as he is, and Pei Huai can’t resist reaching out to stroke his long, slender cock, watching the muscles in Tang Fan’s abdomen jump and tense as his hips jerk up. He urges Tang Fan’s legs apart and kneels between them, keeping his hand steadily stroking as he bows forward again to kiss him.
It's messier, this time; Tang Fan can’t seem to focus as much now Pei Huai is touching him, his mouth slack and breathing unsteady. Pei Huai laughs softly, and dips his head down to mouth at Tang Fan’s irresistible neck again—it’s red already from all the attention he’s been giving it—and moves lower. He slows the movement of his hand, just holding Tang Fan’s cock loosely in his fist and rubbing his thumb over the head while he licks Tang Fan’s flat nipple; it beads up under his tongue. Tang Fan makes a choked noise, trying to thrust up, clutching at Pei Huai’s shoulders as Pei Huai licks and sucks at his other nipple.
Tang Fan’s belly jumps and shivers as Pei Huai drags his face down it, then Tang Fan stills and holds his breath when Pei Huai kneels up between his legs again. Pei Huai examines him thoughtfully; pale skin reddened where the friction of Pei Huai’s beard has been, mouth open and eyes wide. His cock looks painfully hard, arching into the thatch of dark hair above it, gleaming at the tip. His legs have folded up so his knees are bracketing Pei Huai on either side, and Pei Huai tucks his hand under one of his knees, lifts it up and leans down to kiss down Tang Fan’s inner thigh. Tang Fan makes a desperate noise, his hips jerking up, and Pei Huai stops, eyeing Tang Fan’s cock with narrowed eyes. He might be young, but Pei Huai doesn’t want him to finish this quickly. He has a strategy.
He kneels back, shuffling out of the way. “Roll over,” he tells Tang Fan.
Tang Fan blinks at him with wide, glazed eyes, but after a moment complies, taking a moment to adjust himself as he settles his hips, face down on the bed. Pei Huai smiles, enjoying the arch of his shoulders as he folds his arms under his head, and the slope of his back down to his hips, then up to the round swell of his buttocks, like the most perfect flow of ivory silk. Pei Huai shuffles forward again, nudging Tang Fan’s legs apart to kneel between them, smiling at the hitch of Tang Fan’s shoulders as he does. He strokes a firm hand down Tang Fan’s spine, then kneads at his lower back. He bends over, adjusting his stance to press his mouth to the same place, both hands coming up to grip Tang Fan’s buttocks and firmly squeeze before using his thumbs to spread him open.
“Pei Huai—” Tang Fan gasps, sounding halfway to scandalised, but his words cut off abruptly when Pei Huai licks him, long and broad, feeling the flinch of tight muscle under his tongue. He pauses for a moment after, giving Tang Fan an opportunity to tell him to stop, but Tang Fan doesn’t speak again. He’s panting and shivering under Pei Huai, as though he’s trying to keep very still. Pei Huai smiles, then ducks back down, letting the saliva flow from his mouth as he licks again, getting Tang Fan nice and wet. Tang Fan’s hips move restlessly, and Pei Huai preemptively tightens his grip before changing his technique, focusing on the tightly furled skin with the tip of his tongue, then pushing harder to breach the ring of muscle, spearing inside.
Tang Fan makes a shocked noise, and then can’t seem to stop, moaning when Pei Huai squeezes the rounds of his flesh and spreads him open, mewling as Pei Huai’s tongue darts into him. Finally, Tang Fan starts to loosen up, and Pei Huai eases the grip of his hands enough so that Tang Fan can roll his hips helplessly into the bed as Pei Huai thrusts into him with his tongue. Pei Huai pulls back to breathe, his face wet with spit, his own cock feeling heavy between his legs, untouched. “Good boy,” he tells Tang Fan breathlessly, admiring the dusky, secret part of Tang Fan’s body exposed, and he rubs his thumb over the ruched skin, teasing at pushing it inside.
“Pei Huai,” Tang Fan whimpers, squirming his hips, and Pei Huai takes pity on him, lowering his head again. This time he wets his fingers as well, stroking the pad of his index finger over Tang Fan’s hole as he licks around it, breaching him with the tip of his tongue first then sliding his finger in alongside it. Tang Fan moans and clenches around him, the first hard thing he’s felt, and Pei Huai finds himself shivering; there’s nothing quite like it on the receiving end. He pumps his finger slowly in and out, keeping the contrast of his tongue soft as he licks around it. Tang Fan is almost too tight for his second finger, but Pei Huai didn’t plan on being gentle with him. Besides, he’s dripping wet; Pei Huai pushes smoothly past the resistance, Tang Fan whining as the swell of Pei Huai’s knuckles breach the rim. He flexes his fingers inside him, spreading them out in the narrow, hot channel of his body, opening him up so Pei Huai can dart his tongue between his fingers.
When the resistance isn’t so much, he starts to pump his fingers in and out, listening keenly to Tang Fan’s sighs and moans until Tang Fan’s rutting against the bed in counterpoint. Pei Huai can’t use his mouth anymore, his own breath coming too quickly, jaw aching, and he lifts his head to watch the slide of his fingers in and out, Tang Fan’s body gleaming with Pei Huai’s spit. He can see the tension building, muscles in Tang Fan’s back tensing, his thrusts into the bed turning sharp, and Pei Huai strokes a hand from his buttock down his thigh, gentling, as he withdraws his fingers.
Tang Fan makes a noise of complaint, as though he’s not even capable of words, and Pei Huai smacks the side of his leg lightly. “Turn over,” he says, voice rough in his throat. Tang Fan seems to take a moment for the words to sink in, and then he’s completely useless at doing so without assistance, his arms too weak to hold himself up; in the end Pei Huai pushes him over with a grumble. Tang Fan’s expression is shocked, open; pleasure-drunk. Pei Huai admires it for a moment before pushing Tang Fan’s legs up, spreading them to make space for Pei Huai’s shoulders in between; they really are very long. He settles back down between Tang Fan’s legs, pushing three of his own fingers in his mouth to wet them liberally before reaching down to rub them over Tang Fan’s slick hole.
“You can finish in my mouth,” he remembers to say, looking briefly up at where Tang Fan is staring down at him with wide eyes, then bundles his fingers together to push them in as he takes the tip of Tang Fan’s cock in his mouth. It’s a struggle to get them inside, and Tang Fan thrashes at the dual sensations—Pei Huai stretching him open even as he tongues softly over the head of his cock. He cries out helplessly as he yields, and Pei Huai rewards him by sinking further down on his cock, relaxing and opening his throat as Tang Fan instinctively thrusts. He doesn’t give Tang Fan any time to get used to it; on the next thrust he curls his fingers against Tang Fan’s prostate.
Tang Fan clenches tight around the broad base of his fingers, and Pei Huai manages to get his free hand around Tang Fan’s cock to hold and stroke him as he comes; he would rather taste it across his tongue than have it go down his throat. Tang Fan bucks in his grip and keens, throwing his arm across his face, his other hand shooting down to grasp for Pei Huai. Pei Huai supposes he can’t begrudge him that much, and he groans around Tang Fan’s cock as Tang Fan grips and pulls at his hair, wishing he had a free hand for his own cock.
When Tang Fan finally slumps down, spent, Pei Huai lifts his mouth off, licking his lips. He takes a little longer to withdraw his fingers; were this another lover, he might replace them swiftly with his cock, but this is Tang Fan’s first time. As much of a brat as he is, he deserves to come while being fucked; the sensation is peerless. Instead, Pei Huai just flexes his fingers one more time, enjoying Tang Fan’s shudder as he spreads them while pulling out. Tang Fan’s arm is still over his face, but Pei Huai can see the peek of his fluttering eyelashes beneath it; Tang Fan is still watching him.
Pei Huai kneels up, spreading his knees wide and sitting back on his heels. He eases Tang Fan’s sprawled thighs to rest over his own, then spits in his hand before taking hold of his cock at last. Tang Fan looks used, debauched—there are bite marks on his throat, his lips swollen and red. The gleaming wet of Pei Huai’s spit on his cock, between his sprawled legs. Pei Huai drags his gaze over Tang Fan appreciatively and begins to stroke himself off. Tang Fan is watching, so he makes a little bit of a show of it, even though he has no desire to drag this out. Tang Fan goes so far as to move the arm from off his face, instead propping himself up on his elbows to better observe, and it takes one thought of Pei Huai crawling forward and fucking his mouth flashing through his mind to come, thrusting into his fist as he spills in hot spurts onto Tang Fan’s belly.
Pei Huai slumps backwards, panting, bracing himself up on locked arms behind him. He watches as Tang Fan runs his fingers through the mess Pei Huai has left before darting his tongue out to taste it curiously. Pei Huai groans, dragging the back of his arm over his sweating forehead. This boy will be the death of him.
Once he’s caught his breath he clambers off the bed to go and get a washcloth to clean them up. When he gets back to the bed, Tang Fan is asleep, sprawled atop the expensive, mussed bedcovers. He barely stirs when Pei Huai wipes off his belly, just curling onto his side when Pei Huai is done. Pei Huai huffs out a sigh of irritation, shoving him over to yank the coverlet out from underneath him and crawling in beside him. Tang Fan definitely still has a lot to learn.