Work Text:
Wen Kexing’s mouth moved in a languorous dance over Zhou Zishu- his aching length, the soft skin of his inner thighs, and then lower. Zhou Zishu’s head thumped back against the futon and he let out a breathless gasp.
It had been so long- he- he hadn’t even thought to wonder if the sensations there had dulled, yet. They hadn’t. Not yet. He had time, and he was consumed with the desperation that knowledge invoked.
Wen Kexing’s head was moving with Zhou Zishu’s hips as they canted, his clever tongue rolling and curling just so. He was going mad.
“Please, Lao Wen. Wen Kexing,” Zhou Zishu gasped out, Wen Kexing studiously ignoring him as he slowly ate him out. “At least can I have your fingers?” Zhou Zishu groaned, squirming just a little bit up the mattress.
It was perhaps a mistake to look down; Wen Kexing was a sinful sight, soft amber silk over cotton, his mouth flushed and his eyes hooded. A pulse of heat clenched Zhou Zishu’s body.
Their gazes locked for a breathless moment.
“Anything that is mine to give, is yours,” Wen Kexing answered, his voice too full of some heavy emotion for Zhou Zishu to process. Tears pricked at his chest and he shoved the emotion away, pulling the physical sensations of arousal around his heart like a blanket.
He didn’t make a sound when one of those long, talented fingers slid into his body. It was an intrusion, foreign, but desperately wanted. He soaked in the sensation, feeling Wen Kexing become less tentative as he found a steady motion. An oil used for muscles eased the way, and Zhou Zishu’s body relaxed into the gentle touch.
It didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t make him feel, and that made him anxious, made him spiral into worries that he was losing sensation.
“More.”
“Ah, ah, A-Xu, so demanding of a poor philanthropist,” Wen Kexing said cheekily, peppering kisses on his inner thigh and studiously ignoring his erection.
Zhou Zishu let out a little breath of irritation through his nose.
Wen Kexing’s laughter was sharp and delighted, huffing against the crease of his thigh. Zhou Zishu did not think it was cute- he did not.
Another finger slid in alongside the first and Zhou Zishu relaxed into the sting. Good- he could feel it. He wanted to feel it- that had never been his preference, before. He wasn’t opposed to being fucked, but he didn’t love the feeling of being stretched around something, inviting something into his body. Maybe- maybe with someone like Lao Wen- maybe-
A third finger slid into his body and he hissed, though the slide was made easy by oil, he hadn’t quite adjusted to two. But this is what he had asked for; he felt Wen Kexing’s steady gaze on him, even with his own eyes closed.
He could feel himself leaking, little trembles of arousal pooling in his stomach and chest. When Wen Kexing darted a tongue out to taste the tip, a breath punched out of Zhou Zishu’s chest.
“Mmm, mine.” Zhou Zishu wasn’t sure he was meant to hear Wen Kexing’s low words, as the man buried them in biting kisses to his inner thighs.
The mix of stinging pain and thrumming pleasure was setting his nerves on fire. He didn’t feel like he was about to come, but he felt lightheaded with arousal.
Eventually, Wen Kexing’s fingers, which had been driving him mad, withdrew. Zhou Zishu propped himself up on his elbows, observing the other man over the spill of his inner robe. He tried not to let his gaze linger on where the nails lay under the fabric, lingering and clawing at his qi. Instead, he focused on the beautiful man in front of him.
The beautiful man who was nearly fully clothed, only his very outer layer shed. Zhou Zishu made a grumpy noise in the back of his throat, hoping that Wen Kexing would read his mind and remedy that.
“I won’t keep you waiting, A-Xu, I promise,” Wen Kexing didn’t misunderstand, but neither did he exactly understand. Zhou Zishu just wanted to see his skin, to map his scars- perhaps it was selfish of him. He wasn't ready to let Wen Kexing do the same. Wen Kexing's movements were economical, easy, as he shrugged out of his robes. He could have been a dancer in another life, Zhou Zishu was sure. The more pale, soft skin was exposed, the more Zhou Zishu thought this may have been a bad idea. It was overwhelming to be confronted with a person's soft humanity. He still ached with arousal, but as tiny scars silvered in the moonlight, he ached with tenderness too.
With a swift movement, the ties on Wen Kexing's breeches were undone, and he had his hand around his...
A kind of anxious amusement hit his arousal like a sledgehammer, not dispersing but shaking it like a jar of rice wine.
“No.” Zhou Zishu’s voice was sharper than he intended.
Wen Kexing froze, face flushed, eyes wide and vaguely panicked.
Zhou Zishu observed the massive- huge- dick that had just been bared flag for just a moment, before it’s owner was swathed again in layers of silk. So fast, so fast, Zhou Zishu was still reeling with arousal. He stretched his hand out with a placating hum, placing it on Wen Kexing’s hip to prevent the other man from moving away.
“Aah, A-Xu? Am I to stay or go?” Wen Kexing’s voice, which had been breathless and deep moments ago, was tight.
“Stay.” He patted Lao Wen’s hip. The moment dragged on, tension refusing to seep from his zhiji’s form. Zhou Zishu sighed grumpily, then grabbed Wen Kexing’s wrist with a well-telegraphed move and yanked him down to sit on the bed. It said a lot about the new mood in the room that Wen Kexing didn’t even put up token resistance.
Zhou Zishu pulled Wen Kexing in for a kiss, biting into his soft lips, kneading the fine baby hairs at the nape of his neck. Normally the other man would give as good as he got, pushing back against the edges of Zhou Zishu’s being. Still, Lao Wen was minimally responsive, his hands twitching at his sides and his mouth moving slowly. Zhou Zishu pulled back with a frown. He had said something wrong, his muzzy brain clarified for him.
“Lao Wen.”
“A-Xu.” Wen Kexing’s response was automatic, and it broke through some tension in his form. The taller man swayed away from Zhou Zishu as if it were physically painful, and met his gaze with intensity.
"Lao Wen."
“A-Xu,” He repeated, a frown marring his brow, “No… what?”
Zhou Zishu frowned for a moment, expression mirroring his partner’s, before he realized what the man was talking about.
“I don’t want you to fuck me,” He said, realizing it was the wrong thing to say as Wen Kexing's shoulders curled a little tighter, “I mean- I don’t want to be fucked by you?” That wasn’t better, “Lao Wen, Lao Wen, you have a very beautiful member and if you fucked me with it I would split in half.”
He saw the compliment reverse his fumbling words before the implications therein filtered through Wen Kexing’s mind. He reached out to cuff the back of Wen Kexing’s head, thinking to take advantage of the moment, but found his hand caught instead.
A predatory, vulnerable thing was Lao Wen’s gaze. Zhou Zishu felt consumed. As the moment lengthened, he could feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching with a surge of desire. His chest ached for this beautiful, fragile man.
“What, is Lao Wen robbed of words?” Zhou Zishu felt snark sink into his voice, “He who has words for every occasion-”
“What... do you want, A-Xu?” Wen Kexing’s gaze, locked with his own, did not waver.
Zhou Zishu pressed his hand further into Wen Kexing’s space, the other man’s grip offering little resistance. Gently, as he would touch delicate porcelein, he pressed the pad of his thumb to Wen Kexing’s lower lip. He was wrecked from eating Zhou Zishu out. He was beautiful.
Wen Kexing’s breath hitched.
“You, idiot. I still want you.” Zhou Zishu knew his tone was inordinately fond, but he couldn’t help it. “Even if your dick is monstrous,” He added as an afterthought.
Wen Kexing choked on the breath he was taking, coughing hard a few times and pulling away from Zhou Zishu.
“The illustrious A-Xu flatters this simple man-”
“I don’t. Lao Wen, how can you carry such a weapon around?”
The insecurity in his zhiji’s face is warring with impish amusement.
“People always ask why I don’t carry a sword- I tell them I have one handy should I need it,” Wen Kexing says, genuine amusement seeping into his smile.
Zhou Zishu tsk-ed under his breath and tackled his shidi before the man could swell his ego to be larger than his cock. A squeak and a tussle later, and Zhou Zishu had used his considerable flexibility and thigh muscles to flip them over after Wen Kexing had pinned him.
His meridians ached, but sparks of pleasure flickered through his veins as the adrenaline pumped. This was the most alive he had felt in weeks. Months.
His arms were planted on either side of Lao Wen’s head, one of the other man’s hands pinned there. Zhou Zishu experimentally rocked his thigh against the hard heat between Wen Kexing’s robed thighs.
“A-ah!”
The helpless tightrope arousal he had felt earlier had dissipated and condensed into this focused, bright thing in the center of Zhou Zishu’s chest. It felt nothing like the nail there and everything like something he thought lost to him.
“Mmm, mine.” Zhou Zishu echoed Wen Kexing’s words and leant to pay homage to his zhiji’s elegant neck. He lost himself in the other man’s gasps, in learning the subtle movements of his hips.
There was, after all, more than one way to satisfy the gaping emptiness inside him. (A/N: Besides his zhiji's frankly massive dick. His heart also did the trick.)