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Oh, you're down right there
You make me feel right there
When you lay me down right there
Kissing, Xie’er has discovered, is nice.
He’s still learning to refine his technique, but Ye Baiyi is patient and offers ample practicing opportunities. It’s become something to look forward to, from the short pecks in the morning when they’re still rubbing sleep from their eyes, to the lingering kisses that Xie’er is certain he could drown in if he isn’t careful.
Tonight’s starts quick, sweet - a brief kiss once Xie’er finished cleaning their dinner dishes, affection and gratitude (both of which are so very new to Xie’er). When Ye Baiyi starts to withdraw, Xie’er leans forward, chasing his lips with a wanting, breathy exhale. He feels more than hears Ye Baiyi’s rumbling laugh against his mouth, and the next kiss is longer, deeper, until Xie’er’s blood runs hot with the need for more. He pushes closer, winds an arm around Ye Baiyi’s neck as two kisses turn into three, four, each hungrier than the last.
Xie’er savors each one, still reveling in the newness of this, even though they’ve been sharing kisses for the past two weeks.
(He still remembers that afternoon, the feeling of sunlight on his cheek and Ye Baiyi’s hand interlocked with his as they stood in the garden. The way he caught Ye Baiyi staring at him, and for once, Ye Baiyi didn’t turn away. Right when Xie’er started to ask if there’s something on his mind, Ye Baiyi suddenly leaned in, mashing their lips in a hurried kiss. Time seemed to freeze, and Xie’er along with it; before he could think how to respond, Ye Baiyi jerked backward, cheeks tinged with a flush. Xie’er could only stare, lips parted on a question he’s incapable of forming.
“What? Haven’t you been kissed before?” Ye Baiyi snapped, though he seemed more embarrassed than angry. Xie’er couldn’t recognize that Ye Baiyi was simply self-conscious about an imperfect kiss.
Xie’er wouldn’t know. That was his first kiss, after all.
Just as a kind of recognition dawned on Ye Baiyi’s face in the face of Xie’er’s silence, Xie’er squeezed Ye Baiyi’s hand and murmured, “Again, please.”)
It’s the same request of again, please, again, that drives Xie’er forward, kissing Ye Baiyi until his head swims from the need to breathe. Ye Baiyi swears when they withdraw for air, and Xie'er feels giddy from it, the pleasure from the kisses and the knowledge that he’s the one making Ye Baiyi lose his composure.
Ye Baiyi shifts forward, and the unmistakable feeling of a clothed, half-hard cock grazing his thigh has Xie’er inwardly trilling. Finally, he’s in his element; he doesn’t know the first thing about kisses, about tenderness, but he knows this, knows service.
He breaks the kiss, peers up underneath his lashes (yifu always seemed to like the coy display) and drops to his knees in a slow, practiced motion. Quick, clever hands have just started working at the robes when he’s tapped on the top of his head.
“Brat, what’re you doing?” Ye Baiyi asks. Xie’er is pleased by the breathless voice - less so at the confusion in Ye Baiyi’s eyes. His hands fall still. Has he misread the situation? Does Ye Baiyi not want him after all?
The thought makes his stomach churn, an anxious concoction.
“What does it look like?” he says. He’s proud that his voice doesn’t waver, even when his cheeks burn with the preemptive shame of rejection.
Ye Baiyi snorts a laugh, twisting the knife in Xie’er’s stomach.
He expects a shove, a mocking word, a dismissal. It’d be no less than he deserves for being so bold. Just as he drops his hands and his tongue forms the apology, Ye Baiyi grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him to his feet with ease (which, Xie’er is willing to concede in the midst of his unease, is devastatingly hot). Xie’er stumbles, only kept steady by firm hands; Ye Baiyi always holds him with conviction, with intent.
“Haven’t you heard of foreplay?” Ye Baiyi says, and there’s the trademark snark in his voice, one Xie’er has come to understand is not always malice.
Xie’er blinks, searching Ye Baiyi’s face in a desperate search for clues to solve this riddle, this puzzle. Yes, he wants to say, but isn’t that what we just did? What do you want from me?
The seconds tick by, and Ye Baiyi’s expression shifts - the amusement dulls down to something more complicated, something almost sad. Xie’er hates the pity, hates even more how he doesn’t understand why it’s there in the first place. He wants to beg forgiveness, plead can’t we just pretend this didn’t happen?
Ye Baiyi’s lips twitch, something in between a smirk and smile, as he squeezes Xie’er’s shoulders, runs his hands down Xie’er’s arms until Xie’er nearly trembles.
“We’ll work up to that,” Ye Baiyi says.
His voice leaves no room for argument, but Xie’er makes room for himself anyway, as he has been slowly doing since they began living together.
“But I want t-”
“Don’t,” Ye Baiyi snaps, pressing a finger across Xie’er’s kiss-swollen lips to silence him. Xie’er glares, all petulant pout as he debates the merits of biting the offending digit. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Let me show you,” Ye Baiyi says.
Xie’er wants to ask show me what, but then Ye Baiyi’s hands are cupping his cheeks, slowly bringing their faces closer and closer until their lips brush again.
It’s different from before, Xie’er notes as his eyes flutter shut. Ye Baiyi’s kiss is no less wanting, but the urgency has slowed, gone soft somewhere along the way. He tries to match the pace, his movements uncoordinated and uncertain, leaving their noses brushing uncomfortably together. Ye Baiyi tilts his head at a slight angle, and ah, the next kiss feels all the better for it. Thumbs stroke along his cheeks and Xie’er sighs into Ye Baiyi’s mouth, body gone loose and pliable, malleable clay for Ye Baiyi to shape and mold as he desires. Surrender has never felt more liberating, more pleasurable than this - being kissed like his mouth tastes of the sweetest wine.
Fists clenched at his side, he kisses and licks against Ye Baiyi’s lips in sloppy, wet desire, wanting, demanding more. There’s a soft grunt as Ye Baiyi complies, indulging Xie’er by parting his lips, allowing their tongues to slide together, slick and lewd and perfect. Xie’er has long since learned that Ye Baiyi’s tongue is just as fierce a weapon as his sword, words able to slice through all pretenses, but this is a new kind of attack, one that makes his mind go foggy and stomach pool with hot desire.
In between exchanging long kisses, hands work the front of Xie’er’s robes, dexterous and efficient, and Xie’er resists a shudder when bare skin meets cool air and warm hands. He gasps when the kiss breaks, the sound deepening to a groan when Ye Baiyi presses a kiss to his jawline, down to his neck, lingering and wet. When he works a patch of sensitive skin with his teeth and tongue, Xie’er nearly topples over, his trademark grace reduced to ash by the wildfire that is Ye Baiyi’s affection.
Ye Baiyi pulls up, and whatever he sees - whatever image Xie’er paints, overwhelmed and kissed out of his mind - makes his eyes darken, mirroring the raw desire Xie’er feels. Xie’er sways forward, bodily begging for another kiss, another touch, another anything, please, and Ye Baiyi responds by taking Xie’er by the hand. A murmured c’mon, is all the warning Ye Baiyi gives before he takes off in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Xie’er to struggle not to trip over his feet in his eagerness.
Once they reach the bed, Ye Baiyi spins, captures Xie’er’s lips in another kiss as his hands return fussing with his robes. Layer by layer, Xie’er is unwrapped until he’s bare from the waist up, the cool prickle of air doing nothing to dampen his desire. His hands claw into Ye Baiyi’s robes as Ye Baiyi works at his trousers, movements blind as they kiss, hot and messy. They break for air the moment the last of Ye Baiyi’s clothing has pooled at their feet, leaving them in the same state of undress.
The frenzied atmosphere slows as they simply pause, soaking in the moment and panting warm breath against each other. Hands slide up Xie’er’s bare hips, gentle and reverent, a far cry from the bruising grip yifu used to use to keep Xie’er in whatever position he chose. Xie’er swallows hard at the thought, an uncomfortable prickling of uncertainty creeping through his veins, poisoning his mind with doubt. His needy body wars with his anxious mind, and he clenches his fists again, feels himself start to flounder. It’s only the reassuring touch of a hand to his chin, lifting his gaze to meet Ye Baiyi’s, that settles him; he anchors himself in those brown depths, both confident and assuring. It’s okay, his gaze seems to say. It’s okay, Xie’er’s heart confirms as he’s slowly guided down onto the bed, Ye Baiyi’s body over him like a cloak. It’s okay.
Xie’er has barely settled on the bed when Ye Baiyi pounces. Suddenly he’s everywhere, pressing close, kissing him, sliding a hand up his cheek and tangling in his hair. Xie’er arches into every touch, moans into Ye Baiyi’s mouth as their hard cocks brush together, a torturous tease. It’s all so much , and all Xie’er can do is grab the sheet in a white-knuckle grip and hold on for the ride.
“You can touch me,” Ye Baiyi says, voice nearly muffled against Xie’er’s lips as he leans in for another kiss.
His face warms with a combination of embarrassment and wonder; he wants to ask if Ye Baiyi means it; he wants to admit that he didn’t touch him because he doesn’t know the rules of this game and wasn’t sure if it was allowed. He loosens his grip on the sheet, but doesn’t move otherwise. Ye Baiyi makes a raw sound in his throat, something animal and wanting, and he plucks one of Xie’er’s hands off the sheet and places it on his arm.
“Touch me,” Ye Baiyi repeats, and what was once a suggestion has now become not a demand, Xie’er realizes, but a plea. Ye Baiyi wants Xie’er’s touch, poison and calluses and all.
He’s bewitched by the realization, unable to look away as he slowly glides his hand down Ye Baiyi’s arm, then up again, until he reaches the meat of his shoulder and claws into it. The satisfied groan Ye Baiyi crashes against Xie’er’s mouth only spurs him on, and he uses both hands to stroke every inch of skin he can reach as they kiss.
When they part for air, Ye Baiyi’s gone flush, lips wet and eyes wild.
“Tell me what you want,” comes his breathy demand, sealed with a short, rough kiss to counteract the tender way he strokes through Xie’er’s hair. “Tell me and it’s yours.”
It takes Xie’er’s pleasure-muddled brain a second to digest that, and when he does, he feels his brow furrow. “Anything - whatever you want is fine.”
“Brat,” Ye Baiyi huffs, gently tapping Xie’er’s cheek. “I didn’t ask what I wanted.”
Xie’er has never been asked what he wants in bed before, and he’s far too riled up to work that out now. Impatience flares in his chest, hardens his gaze as he knocks a foot against Ye Baiyi in protest.
“You, I just want you, you said you’d show me -” His voice trails off into frustration, nearing an embarrassing, needy whine. Give me anything, please, just as long as it’s you.
“Calm down,” Ye Baiyi says, dry and amused. “I know I did.”
His expression turns serious as he takes Xie’er by the cheek, forcing their eyes to meet. “If I do anything you don’t like - and I mean anything - you tell me. I won’t be mad. Got it?”
It’s the ferocity behind those words that draws Xie’er’s attention. Ye Baiyi is often short and blunt with his words, but this feels different, burns closer to anger - an anger not directed at Xie’er, he realizes. He feels pinned, unafraid but cowed by Ye Baiyi’s apparent (and false) assumptions of his previous intimacies, and he’s upset about them because he -
Xie’er doesn’t know how to fill in the blank. All he knows is how his heart stirs with embers of hope as he manages a short nod and a quiet, “I understand.”
There’s a pause where Ye Baiyi just looks at Xie’er, as if his eyes alone can enforce the message (they can), and then he leans down, steals a saccharine sweet kiss. Xie’er closes his eyes, exhales a slow breath, and wills his all but vibrating body to relax as he loses himself in the kiss.
When they break apart, Ye Baiyi’s lips trail down Xie’er’s skin, all warm breath and soft caress, pressing the occasional kiss to his chin, his jawline. A hand works its way up Xie’er’s ribcage, and Xie’er can feel Ye Baiyi’s smug smile against his neck when Xie’er wriggles a little under the ticklish touch. He’s about to complain, but then Ye Baiyi thumbs one of Xie’er’s nipples and sucks on his neck, and all he can do is gasp breathlessly, head dropping back into the pillow and baring more skin for Ye Baiyi to devour. And devour he does - Ye Baiyi worries the skin with his teeth, little nibbles and then one sharp bite that makes Xie’er’s cock dribble precome against his stomach.
Ye Baiyi’s teeth are still latched onto his skin when he pinches and tugs on the nipple he’s playing with, pulling another groan from Xie’er as he arches upward like he’s been shocked, plastering their bodies, slick with a soft sheen of sweat, together. The way Ye Baiyi laves his tongue against the abused spot (that, Xie’er realizes in the hazy midst of desire, will most likely develop a lovely bruise for him to admire later) feels like an apology, and then he’s shuffling lower, grazing his lips against Xie’er’s collarbone, leaving sparks of pleasure as he goes.
He’s still rubbing his thumb along Xie’er’s nipple when he says, “You’re sensitive here,” a casual observation like he’s remarking on the weather rather than how he’s driving Xie’er wild.
Lifting his head, Xie’er meets Ye Baiyi’s waiting gaze, sparkling with mischief that matches the upward curve of his lip. Maintaining eye contact, Ye Baiyi lowers his head at an agonizingly slow pace (this tease!), until he’s a breath above the nipple his hand isn’t currently preoccupied torturing. His tongue peeks past his lips and rolls across the pebbled flesh in one languid, rough lick that makes Xie’er’s breath stutter. His hands go to Ye Baiyi’s hair, holding on tight as Ye Baiyi settles into a rhythm of using his fingers and tongue to work Xie’er over until he’s squirming beneath the attention. Xie’er hisses at the first hint of teeth, a brief sting that feels good - and Ye Baiyi must pick up on that, because he scrapes his teeth again, just the right edge of pain and pleasure. Xie’er jerks forward and groans, yanking Ye Baiyi’s hair as he goes.
“No pulling,” Ye Baiyi says grouses.
Xie’er loosens his grip, though he doesn’t entirely relinquish his hold. Ye Baiyi offers no protest to that, so Xie’er assumes it’s safe. “Sorry.”
Ye Baiyi grunts in acknowledgement, and then his hands are on the move again: he traces along Xie’er’s ribs with his fingers, then retraces the path with his lips, feathery light. The gentle pressure continues along Xie’er’s stomach, which has admittedly gone a little soft in the months following the avalanche, though Ye Baiyi doesn’t seem to mind; his hands sprawl across Xie’er’s skin like wings, all encompassing and protective, like it’s a work of art.
All the while, he studiously ignores the jut of Xie’er’s cock and the puddle of precome growing beneath the flushed head. Ye Baiyi nearly bumps his chin against Xie’er’s cock as he shifts lower, and Xie’er mourns the near miss of contact with a frustrated moan.
“Patience,” Ye Baiyi murmurs, taking Xie’er’s hips in his hands, thumbs running over the lines of the bone. “I’ve got you.”
Xie’er exhales a rough breath and clings to the promise in those words. His legs fall open, giving Ye Baiyi ample room to settle himself between them. He’s staring at Xie’er’s cock like he’s not sure what to do with it, and Xie’er bites back the beginning of a smile; it’s rare to catch the former immortal appear less than confident.
“Are you lost?” he asks, voice light and innocent even as his chest quivers from uneven breathing.
The flat look Ye Baiyi sends is enough to make Xie’er’s little smile burst forth despite his efforts to hide it.
"Hush," Ye Baiyi reprimands, the bark softened by the way his gaze drops to Xie'er's lips before he returns to his task.
Making himself comfortable between Xie’er’s legs, he wraps his hand around the base of Xie’er’s cock, giving the hard flesh a gentle squeeze. So minimal, but even that feels good, makes Xie’er exhale a whispery sigh. He assumes Ye Baiyi is going to stroke him off, and the thought makes Xie'er wriggle in anticipation - but then he brings the head of his cock to his lips, painting precome like a lip stain, and it takes all of Xie’er’s self-control not to come right then and there.
Ye Baiyi closes his lips around the head and sucks, and Xie’er barely recognizes the rattling, guttural sound that comes from his throat as his own. One hand curls into the sheets while the other immediately reaches for Ye Baiyi’s hair to center himself, careful not to pull. Ye Baiyi hums his approval, a delicious vibration that has Xie’er turning his head to the side and muffling a groan into the pillow. Ye Baiyi has hardly done anything, and Xie’er already feels on the brink of no return; this will be over embarrassingly fast.
Maybe Ye Baiyi is cognizant of Xie’er’s dilemma, because he takes it slow: almost lazy bobs of his head as he takes Xie’er’s slender, leaking cock half-way down his mouth. Xie’er fights the instinct to thrust up, to bury himself as deeply as he can in Ye Baiyi’s throat, and he shakes with the effort to control himself. A strong hand on Xie’er’s hips keeps him down, forcing him to cede control and just take what Ye Baiyi gives him, and Xie’er doesn’t resist, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure. Ye Baiyi lifts up and focuses his attention on the head, worrying the sides and slit with his lips and tongue, drawing sound after sound out of Xie’er like he’s nothing more than an instrument, one Ye Baiyi plays without flaw, building him closer and closer to a crescendo.
Ye Baiyi takes him deeper in his mouth and picks up the pace, doing things with his tongue that Xie’er didn’t know was possible, and it’s good, too good. Xie’er’s whole body trembles as he struggles for the necessary breath to mumble a ‘m close in warning, figuring Ye Baiyi will want to pull off rather than deal with Xie’er’s release.
Ye Baiyi takes Xie’er to the back of his throat and hums, and Xie’er’s world blacks out as he comes with a strangled cry in surprise.
The room swirls as he gradually comes down from floating in clouds of pleasure. He’s aware of his panting breath, hands stroking up and down his thighs - and then his vision catches up, focusing on Ye Baiyi and the self-satisfied edge of his smirk. He must be aching with desire by now, Xie’er distantly realizes; he’ll return the favor as soon as his body feels like it has bones again. At the rate Ye Baiyi is petting his hips and inner thighs like Xie’er is a beloved pet, that may take a while. Xie’er all but purrs under the attention, eyes falling half-shut and body melting into the bed as Ye Baiyi strokes higher, fingertips administering a delicate pressure that has his spent cock twitching in interest.
His fingers shift inwards, pressing down on a spot just beneath the sac that makes Xie’er lurch upward and gasp like a drowning man surfacing.
Propped up on his hands, he sends Ye Baiyi a wild look in confusion while his heart pounds like a war drum against his ribs. Ye Baiyi seems just as surprised as Xie'er feels, staring down at his hand like he's not entirely sure what he did. He presses the spot again, and Xie'er moans, sweaty palms giving out and leaving him flat on his back and panting at the ceiling again.
"You like that," Ye Baiyi says with strained curiosity, like a child trying to figure out a new toy.
Xie’er tries to hum in assent, but it comes out warped and slurred, too pleasure drunk to attain any sort of coherence. His eyes flutter shut as Ye Baiyi lifts Xie’er’s right leg, pressing the knees to his chest to better expose him. Ye Baiyi presses his thumb on the small patch of skin again, and the new angle intensifies the sensation that’s quickly becoming addicting. Xie’er’s mouth falls open on a broken sound when Ye Baiyi starts to rub his thumb in slow circles, sending small pulses of pleasure through Xie’er’s body until he’s trembling all over. A particularly deep rub has Xie’er bearing down, body greedy for more. He claws the sheets in his desperation, panting and drooling against the pillow, unable to smother his sounds as his cock stirs back to hardness.
In the midst of it all, Xie’er hears Ye Baiyi exhale, “You’re incredible.”
Xie’er chokes, those simple two words hitting him even harder than the massage, plowing through the shaky defenses he had started building around himself and striking his soft, wounded heart. Xie’er used to drink in yifu’s spare praise like a plant does the sun, treasuring the rare words to get him through cloudy days. And here’s this immortal, crotchety and coarse, doling out praise so freely, so easily, without Xie’er even trying to gain it. What did I do to deserve you?
Suddenly Ye Baiyi feels too far away, the distance between them unbearable. Xie’er opens his eyes, extends shaky arms in desperation. “C’mere,” he manages to rasp, broken, demanding.
Ye Baiyi swears, and then he’s in Xie’er’s arms, bodies pressed together until Xie’er can’t tell where he ends and where Ye Baiyi begins. Xie’er holds him tight, claws into Ye Baiyi’s back to keep him close as they smash their lips together in a graceless, fevered kiss. Ye Baiyi takes both their cocks in hand, and they groan against each other’s lips as he starts pumping them in unison. Xie’er breaks the kiss with a whine, shoving his face in Ye Baiyi’s neck to muffle a litany of strangled sounds and pleas against his slick skin.
“That’s it,” Ye Baiyi hisses, voice cutting off as he groans. “Good boy.”
Good boy. Xie’er cocoons himself around the praise, like if he can just hold onto them tightly enough, they’ll absorb into his soul, become part of his core. Good boy, his mind echoes, relishing the authenticity, the easy, powerful conviction behind it.
A few more strokes to his cock, a so good breathed into his hair, and Xie’er comes harder than he ever has in his life.
****
He’s not sure how long he lies there, arms loose around Ye Baiyi and face still hidden. Senses and an awareness of time return slowly, and he only dimly registers Ye Baiyi peeling off him and complaining about something - maybe the mess. Xie’er isn’t sure. Everything is foggy and warm, and he feels wrung dry in more ways than one.
Ye Baiyi brushes something wet off Xie’er’s cheek, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been silently, slowly crying.
“What’s wrong?”
Xie’er detects a note of what sounds like genuine concern. It prompts a fresh round of tears, and he covers his eyes with an arm in embarrassment. A futile attempt to save face; Ye Baiyi moves his arm away, forces their eyes to meet.
“Uh uh, no hiding,” Ye Baiyi says, and yes, that’s certainly concern painting his handsome face. “Are you okay?”
Xie’er sniffs and pulls his arm back to his chest defensively. “Yes.”
Ye Baiyi’s still frowning. If Xie’er’s entire world wasn’t just rocked off kilter, he’d warn Ye Baiyi about wrinkles in his old age. As it is, all he can do is take a few deep breaths to regain his composure.
“I just didn’t know it could be like that,” Xie’er murmurs, small and watery.
He doesn’t elaborate and Ye Baiyi doesn’t ask. Judging by the way Ye Baiyi stares at him, softness to his lips for Xie’er and sharp flint in his eyes for a ghost, Xie’er is sure he knows anyway.
Ye Baiyi turns his stare at the adjacent wall, nostrils flaring as he seems to work through something in his head. Xie’er uses the time to wipe away the rest of his tears and focus on his breathing.
“Time to clean up,” Ye Baiyi says at last, drawing Xie’er’s attention. “You’re filthy.”
The thought of standing up and doing anything sounds impossible, and Xie’er makes his opinion on this known through a tired, childish groan. Ye Baiyi lightly smacks Xie’er’s hip in tease.
“You’re such a brat,” Ye Baiyi grumbles as he gets off the bed to grab a spare cloth. Xie’er settles back in the sheets with a content sigh and smile hidden against the pillow.
When Ye Baiyi returns, he’s already wiped off his own stomach and gets to work gently cleaning off the sticky fluids clinging to Xie’er’s stomach and chest.
“I have to do all the work,” Ye Baiyi huffs, tenderly wiping away the last of their combined spend. “Next time, you’re on clean up duty.”
Next time. Ye Baiyi wants this to happen again.
Xie’er’s heart skips a beat, body warm with a budding emotion that he doesn’t yet name, but welcomes the way it nestles into his heart all the same.
“Next time,” Xie’er agrees.
He can hardly wait.
'Cause you're looking so right there
Baby, you should touch me right there
If you take me right there
We could make it