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A short, sharp wheeze of air is forced from He Xuan’s chest as his hips are slammed down.
The floor creaks beneath them, one atop the other in the sparring room. The walls are lined with various weapons, free for use in a fight. But despite the whip handle pressed to He Xuan’s throat, they’re hardly fighting anymore.
He’s no stranger to Hua Cheng’s roughness—be it in sparring or in bed, which may be why their fights all end so similarly. He’s clutching futilely at Hua Cheng’s robes, strength draining away by the second as their kiss hisses and sparks. Hua Cheng tosses the whip aside and clutches He Xuan’s cheek, nails biting into pallid skin. His tongue is just as much of an aggressor, hot where it plays with He Xuan’s. Their lips come together again and again like a flurry of blows, until He Xuan’s grip eventually falls slack, and he’s grasping at Hua Cheng’s hair instead.
Hua Cheng hisses a little sound of amusement, always pleased with He Xuan’s acquiescence, and starts to kiss down his throat. Sharpened teeth drag along the spot where a pulse used to be, occasionally sucking bruises of ash into his skin. He Xuan’s eyes are fluttering on the verge of shut.
He tries pressing his hips up again, desperate for a bit of friction on his aching cock, but Hua Cheng is holding him too firmly.
“Please,” he grits out, voice watery.
“Please what?” Hua Cheng murmurs against his neck. “Use your words.”
He Xuan’s lip curls. “You know what.”
Hua Cheng’s hand shifts to clutch his jaw roughly. “Talk back again and you won’t get anything.”
He Xuan swallows. His cock twitches roughly from the show of strength, despite knowing Hua Cheng would and will give him anything he wants. He’s pampered in Paradise Manor, indulged in.
“Touch me more,” he murmurs.
The hold on his jaw loosens and the hand floats compliantly to his chest. “Here?” Hua Cheng nips his throat.
“Mhm.” He Xuan’s eyes drift shut.
“Or here?” His hand squeezes his side and slides to his thigh.
“Mm.” The single hand on his body isn’t enough, lighting a solitary path of fire; he wants more. He curves into the touch, impatient for more pressure, more heat, more. “Everywhere.”
Hua Cheng pauses for a moment, then breathes a laugh into his neck. “Everywhere, hm? Looks like I need more hands.”
——
“Fu-uck,” He Xuan pants, palms flat to the headboard. His brows are drawn tightly together, body jolting. “Fuck me harder,” he gasps, “come on.”
A sharp slap rings in his ears and the sting of pain follows a second later. He drops his forehead to the bed, nails carving crescent tips into the wood above him.
Hua Cheng seems intent on leaving similarly shaped bruises in the swell of his hip with the strength he’s gripping him. He’s far gone enough, sunken into the pleasure of being fucked, that he doesn’t try to fight back.
As requested, Hua Cheng folds over his back and props up a leg, choking He Xuan with the power and leverage behind every full-bodied thrust.
“Like that?” he pants, nuzzling roughly into the side of He Xuan’s neck.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” He Xuan moans, voice overwhelmed by the thick slapping of Hua Cheng’s hips against his ass.
He turns his head, and Hua Cheng knows instinctively that he’s seeking fingers in his mouth. Two on his tongue and a thumb on his jaw, fixing his head back into place for Hua Cheng to bite at his nape. His tongue draws a line up the seam between Hua Cheng’s cocked fingers, sucking at them as his eyes flutter shut.
Full, that’s where he feels satiation. He wasn’t like this when he was alive, he’s fairly sure, but the soul-destroying absences he was subjected to altered whatever living threads weave the tapestry of his soul. The absence of food, of talk, of touch, and love. That lacking mercy begs to be made up for now, tenfold.
The fingers stifle each moan, crooking to press down on his tongue, and forcing his mouth open.
“Nn, uh-huh.” He’s drooling, struggling to swallow, perfectly overwhelmed.
“God, you’re really—” Hua Cheng pants into the skin at the top of his spine.
He Xuan nods, reading the meaning through his touch, through his fuck. When his fingers pull out of his mouth and draw a wet trail down his throat, He Xuan grabs Hua Cheng’s wrist and forces them back between his lips, teeth scraping the knuckle. He needs it to come, needs his lover encompassing him, harmonizing with him. And Hua Cheng recognizes it.
He kisses the jut of his shoulder blade and fucks forward until He Xuan is on the edge of whiting out, climax sweeping through him as he bites down on Hua Cheng’s fingers.
——
At first, He Xuan was less than appreciative of the classical, if a little garish, aesthetic of Paradise Manor. It had seemed to clash on a fundamental level with him. Money, wealth, excess; whatever you wanted to call it, he didn’t have it, in his pockets nor his soul.
But aesthetics are just aesthetics, and the truth of it all is that it’s all very radically Hua Cheng, and that could never clash with him.
Right now he finds himself, like he does some thoughtful nights—Hua Cheng prefers the word brooding —in the lake out back of the manor. He bathes first, in water just as icy as his pallor, then just soaks, eyes flitting around the darkness. A handful of lanterns light the path back inside, but out here, where the trees are sparse and the earth is cool, there is no light.
The darkness was his choice, preferring the hug of a pitch sky and inky waters. He sometimes thinks his influence is a poison, an oil slick that stains what it touches and never quite washes out. But Hua Cheng looks handsome smeared with darkness, and he hasn’t received any complaints yet.
“Brooding?” The smug laughter is a near thing.
He Xuan doesn’t turn around. Instead he closes his eyes and spreads his fingers, feeling the cold seep into him, every part.
“I believe you’re becoming what they call a creature of habit,” Hua Cheng murmurs. He’s standing at the shore of the lake, hands folded behind his back; He Xuan can see him in his mind’s eye.
“You’re saying I’m getting predictable,” He Xuan hums.
Hua Cheng laughs quietly. “No, you’ve always been predictable.”
“Mm.”
He Xuan sinks beneath the water and stays there for a moment, long enough that the cold grips his bitter body and he walks the line between alert and fatigued. When he emerges, Hua Cheng hasn’t moved, ever so adept at waiting, waiting. He turns to him.
“Did you want something?”
“Always.” His smile falls somewhere between fond and devious, and would probably be unnerving to a lesser person, to one who didn’t know him so well.
He Xuan’s hair falls over sallow cheeks, slicked to his skin. He swims sedately towards Hua Cheng until his feet touch the murk at the bottom.
Hua Cheng conjures a cloak for him, holding it up and murmuring, “Dry yourself.”
He Xuan hasn’t shaken himself from that contemplative space he likes to live in yet, and just hums his assent, sluicing the water from his skin with a wave before sliding into the proffered robe. He doesn’t ask Hua Cheng to clarify what he wants—the possessive hold on his waist tells him all he needs to know. Hua Cheng likes to parade him around like this sometimes; He Xuan tolerates it inside the manor.
It’s seemingly aimless until it isn’t, and this time is no different.
Up from the lake through the trees, winding around several ponds and other auspiciously organized gardens. Hua Cheng’s hand tightens around his waist and eases him in his direction of choice, as if it’s a suggestion. They’re meandering, He Xuan realizes, towards one of the covered courtyards: fragrant, overarching magnolia trees whose petals reflect the moonlight, beds of river-smooth stones and sand, and—
“…What is this?” he mutters, taking a step forward out of Hua Cheng’s grasp.
Silks are draped, cascading like ink and fire in auburns and navies, from the ceiling, and splayed across the floor with countless cushions. Dishes of fruit and wine adorn low tables; it’s the kind of exorbitance Hua Cheng has made himself accustomed to by force.
Hua Cheng watches him in silence for a moment before murmuring, “A gift.”
He Xuan’s forehead mars briefly with a furrowed brow. He glances over his shoulder. “…For who?”
Hua Cheng’s lips quirk up. “Don’t be so skeptical. I think you could call it a mutual benefit.”
He doesn’t let He Xuan stray for long, coming up to hug him from behind, hands squeezing his waist, bare beneath the outer robe. The night is cool but neither of them feel it, pressed front to back. Hua Cheng kisses his ear, noses down his jaw, hums into the empty pulse of his neck, and He Xuan tilts his head to allow it.
“You’re bad at accepting presents, you know,” he murmurs, hooked over his shoulders as his hands snake upwards to hug his chest. “I’m just offering you the chance to practice your gratitude.”
He Xuan sneers. “You’re never that simple.”
He continues kissing; back up his neck, over his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. “You just don’t like to see the best in me,” Hua Cheng teases. He grips He Xuan’s chin and gently turns his head so he can kiss him carefully on the lips. It’s the kiss of a beast-tamer, solid and sure but poised to take a venomous bite. It isn’t elaborated upon, ending just where it starts, and Hua Cheng rests his chin on his shoulder to ask, “…Would you like to eat?”
He Xuan would always like to eat. He’s ushered to sitting, onto a mound of tasseled pillows, Hua Cheng at his side.
“Let me,” Hua Cheng coos, and there’s a mirthful, mischievous little glint in his eye which He Xuan is tempted to point out is exactly the reason he fails to ‘see the best in him’.
“I can feed myself,” He Xuan mutters decisively, gaze trained on Hua Cheng’s hand. He plucks a slice of peach from the tray, ignoring He Xuan entirely, and holds it up to his lips. “I said—”
“I heard you,” Hua Cheng murmurs, leaning in closer. “Let me feed you. It’ll be worth your while.”
He Xuan maintains a straight face. As much as he wants to push back, one thing he can say in Hua Cheng’s defence is that he’s never not come through on a guarantee. And He Xuan could use a little worth his while. He parts his lips with a subdued scoff and lets Hua Cheng place the fruit in his mouth—only he could maintain the upper hand while doing the work of a servant. His fingers sit on He Xuan’s lips while he waits for him to take a bite.
“All of it,” Hua Cheng says expectantly.
He Xuan uses his tongue to pull the fruit into his mouth and Hua Cheng offers him a satisfied smile, then leans forward to chase it with a kiss. It grows deep quickly, peach juice sticky between their tongues. Hua Cheng licks it from his chin and nips his lower lip.
“Swallow.”
He Xuan does so on instinct, having received that same request from Hua Cheng many times before.
“Good boy; more?” He already has another slice in his fingers—fine, delicate fingers. They’re cool on He Xuan’s lips. “Chew.” Another kiss, a steadying hand finding his hip. Hua Cheng tastes his way between He Xuan’s lips, sharing the flavour of the fruit as He Xuan feels himself begin to grow interested. “Swallow.”
As the third piece is making its way to his mouth, He Xuan’s instincts are triggered. He bristles.
“Just an extra pair of hands,” Hua Cheng murmurs, attempting to soothe him by stroking his thigh.
The familiar cadence of his walk, the tinkling of his boots, only heightens He Xuan’s suspicions. He knows Hua Cheng wouldn’t allow anyone else to intrude once they’ve crossed a certain line of intimacy, still feels the possessive fingerprints he’d left just the other night. It’s all fairly obvious, but He Xuan can’t help himself.
“Hands?” he asks. “What for?”
Hua Cheng urges the peach into his mouth before replying. “Whatever I’d like them for.”
His third kiss is slow, stoking heat between He Xuan’s legs when he presses his tongue to his teeth, feeling out the point of a canine. Back and forth, the flow of energy courses between their lips. He watches in his periphery as their guest kneels by his side, reaches for a tray, offers him a grape.
“Open.” Just the same tone, just the same timbre.
Hesitantly, He Xuan turns, gauging this perfect duplicate, this fragment of soul smiling at him the way Hua Cheng does. He takes the grape between his teeth, holding eye contact until that Hua Cheng leans in for a kiss as well. He tries for some semblance of doubt, but they kiss the same way, the way that pulls the lifeless breath from his lungs, and he can’t help allowing them to share his attention.
One, then the other, then back again. His fingers curl in the cushions. It’s only when he hears another pair of boots behind him, and feels the sting of apprehension in his palms, that he pauses.
“What are you doing?” He Xuan says, pinching the grape between his back teeth.
Hua Cheng smiles and lifts a strand of inky hair between his fingers. “What do you mean, lover? I’m pampering you.” He sits back to give He Xuan an appraising look.
He Xuan swallows the fruit and ignores the clone as he leans in and begins kissing the side of his mouth. Hua Cheng, even after so many years, is the sort of puzzle that needs to be prompted with precisely the right question to be of any use at all. Hands flit to his hips, rubbing firmly; possessive.
Carefully, He Xuan asks, “Since when have you needed more than just yourself to pamper me?”
Hua Cheng’s smile widens, bordering on wolfish. He figures he’s toggled the correct peg. Hua Cheng leans in, bumps noses with him, kisses his upper lip, his lower lip.
“Because you’ve been such an insatiable little slut lately.”
When he pulls back, just a breath, his gaze dares He Xuan to disagree. And despite the flickering need to contradict, he can’t argue it. He’s noticed his need like an expanding pit in his chest; it’s the exact same yawning gape as his hunger. The hands on his body begin to roam and he glances down at Hua Cheng’s smirk.
“So, what?” he huffs, “Don’t think you can satisfy me all by yourself?” He pitches his voice low.
“I’d watch the brat act if I were you,” Hua Cheng hums, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek then shifting to kneel behind him. “There are more than enough hands here to shut you up.”
The clone at his other hip leans in as well. “Or hold you down.” He lifts a hand to draw a gentle line from He Xuan’s temple to his jaw.
He Xuan’s eyebrow twitches.
Then the clone at his feet, slipping off his shoes: “You’d be surprised how good it feels to just relax. You’re tense, A-Xuan.”
A muscle in He Xuan’s neck twinges. “Like you can talk.” He’s right of course, but He Xuan isn’t in the habit of giving him the satisfaction.
“Put on all the airs you want,” Hua Cheng hums softly, tapping a knuckle beneath his chin, “It won’t change my mind.”
He Xuan hisses between his teeth, a fading sound that the night swallows up. Kisses are pressed to the side of his neck, warm and full of life. They’re indulgent kisses, seductive kisses, with the fleeting press of tongue and teeth. And they’re slow, quietly drawing further down his throat, to the collar of his robe. It’s a heavy silken thing, embroidered with all manner of beasts and beauties, with wide, draping sleeves and a lazy neckline. While the kisses murmur south, a hand slides up into his hair, combing through with a reverence that’s typically reserved for Hua Cheng’s most sentimental moments, many of which are post-coital. Those fingers weave through his hair like fish up a stream, all the way to the ends then back up to the roots, repeating the motion until he can’t resist dipping his head back.
“Close your eyes,” Hua Cheng murmurs, cool fingers cupping his cheek. “Indulgence looks good on you.”
He Xuan swallows, jaw still taut, and tilts his head to glance back at Hua Cheng. Even as he leans forward, closes his own eye, works He Xuan’s lips apart with his tongue and coaxes him into kissing back.
A pair of hands light the fuse of more when they dip beneath the edges of his robe—they hold his wrist and brush his chest. He swallows, the taste of fruit still lingering at the back of his throat. His skin is chilled from the water, and the hands that creep beneath his collar are hot, like stones from the fire, clearly a simulation of the living.
Hua Cheng hums into his mouth, nudges him with his nose.
And… Hua Cheng begins firmly thumbing the soles of his feet.
And yet another Hua Cheng skims fingertips up the inside of his wrist, up his forearm, light enough to tickle. He shifts to begin kissing apart the overlapping lapels of his robe—it’s all but hanging off of him, closed with a single loose tie around his waist. But their collective aim seems to be a slow, patient undoing, none of their hands pawing so low.
His cock stirs there, already succumbing to the interest his ego is desperate to defend against. The gentle hair-pulling eases his head backward, breaking their kiss and baring his neck and chest to be doubly attended to as the clone by his feet crawls closer. Two of them, now, are touching their way down his front, sharing the space. He watches them with eyes that grow heavy in his skull, lids drooping under the blooming presence of lust.
Maintaining composure is becoming something of a tribulation; his hands are easing out of their fists, flattening against the silks beneath him.
“That’s right,” one of them mumbles, “I knew you’d like it; god, you’re so greedy.”
He Xuan’s tongue sits, barbed in his mouth, but he can’t make it move. Just the sight of two of them working down his front, cheek to cheek, carefully prying open his robe—
He succumbs to it silently. It’s as good as a verbal concession; Hua Cheng knows him too well. His lips quirk up as he kisses He Xuan’s neck.
One of them pries his robe apart to tease a nipple, nuzzling into his pec as his tongue flicks generously, sending spotty signals of pleasure down to his cock. He Xuan hisses quietly, lets his gaze wander between the two of them then up to the ceiling of silks. Not just one, but three experts in his pleasure paw at his body, tension reluctantly draining by the minute.
The tie holding his robe together at the waist is plucked open like a gift ribbon as they descend, until his half-hard cock is blissfully taken in hand. His gaze drifts surely to fall back on his twinned lovers. One strokes him like they’re handling fine porcelain—anything but firm—while the other brushes purse-lipped little pecks over his foreskin. It tickles more than satisfies, a feathery first step of foreplay. But He Xuan’s body and mind are still somewhat lethargic from the cold water, so it suits him just fine.
The touches encourage him, patiently, to full hardness. He bites his tongue and sighs as the pecks turn to lingering kisses which turn to the flat of his tongue at the base of his cock. He licks up over the knuckles of the fist stroking him, slowly, and gathers his hair to one side to offer He Xuan a better view.
Because it isn’t anything more complex than that: tonight is his. It’s a gaudy affair played down as a paltry gift, the way Hua Cheng always does. He Xuan swallows a curse as his tongue twists in his mouth.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Hua Cheng coos behind him, coiling He Xuan’s hair around his hand and pulling gently, easing his head further back so he can bestow a careful kiss to his lips upside down. “How many times do you think you’ll come tonight?” he murmurs.
He knows the answer Hua Cheng is looking for but his throat is still too tight to allow it to surface.
Where Hua Cheng’s natural state is to be clothed in excess—wines and silks and silver—He Xuan is the type to have excess creep up on him and soak him until he’s acclimated. Pleasure is much the same; it had taken coaxing, at first, for He Xuan to open up. Good thing Hua Cheng is exceptionally patient.
So he mutters, just a breath from Hua Cheng’s lips, “Don’t know.”
He releases He Xuan’s hair and strokes a finger down his nape. “As many as we would like,” Hua Cheng corrects him kindly.
He Xuan grunts then, brows drawing as a warm mouth closes around the head of his cock, tongue first. His head feels incredibly heavy when he draws himself upright again, gaze slipping down to the spectacle between his legs.
They work in the sort of superior tandem only beings split from the same soul could. One holds him in a fragile fist while the other trails it with his lips, sinking and rising to a steady pattern, like the rolling of waves. They take it slow, the kind of slow they know maddens He Xuan. He watches as the slick of saliva clings to him, to the hand around him, spit slowly trailing over the knuckles.
Mess is the easiest thing for He Xuan to appreciate, and Hua Cheng, he thinks, is maybe the greatest, most dazzling mess of them all.
He opens his legs a little more, letting one of the clones slot comfortably between them. His eye is closed, a serene, unencumbered look smooth on his face as he continues to suck gently at He Xuan’s cock, bobbing his head.
“Mm.”
He allows himself the pleasure they’re offering, arousal settling nicely in his bones.
After a moment, long enough that He Xuan can feel the promise of climax on the horizon, one of them begins petting the other’s hair, stroking a fine, ringed hand through it. The touch gravitates slowly, from carding through his ink-dark hair to thumbing his temple, then his cheekbone. He Xuan’s eyes are trained on that hand like a dagger. Every touch is loving, the kind Hua Cheng would typically only ever bestow on him. The back of Hua Cheng’s knuckles brush his cheek, his chin. Then he bows his body lower, low enough to tuck Hua Cheng’s hair behind his ear and kiss the lobe. His nose slips down the side of his jaw. A glance that registers somewhere low in He Xuan’s gut warns him what’s about to happen just before Hua Cheng pulls gently off his cock and leans in to the touches. He tilts his head, cocking up one corner of his lips, and kisses high on his cheekbone. His forehead; god, his lips. And it’s not a friendly kiss, but neither is it an indecent spectacle. They kiss like lovers. It’s all soft, giving presses of tongue that He Xuan can see slide between one another’s lips, their jewellery chiming softly under the swaying motion of it.
He Xuan no longer feels the sting of heat in his cheeks, nor does he remember how it once felt, but he can recognize the triggers that would pull it from him if he were still capable. And Hua Cheng, making out slowly with himself is certainly one. He Xuan’s cock curves up between them, held by a fist at the base, only spared the occasional stroke when they’re not too drunk off their kiss to remember him. It makes him tense, makes him yearn for something intangible.
“Think you could get off to watching them?” Hua Cheng murmurs behind him, a devil on his shoulder. His fingers drift up and begin easing He Xuan’s robe from his shoulders.
He hums dismissively. But his interest is shamefully blatant, cock swelling and twitching in Hua Cheng’s grip.
Between his legs, the two lean on one another, hands on cheeks, nose to nose, and draw out every wet second of their kiss for He Xuan to see. One of them moans quietly, maybe both of them, and the sound pulls at the tendons in He Xuan’s neck. It’s not a noise he hears very often—Hua Cheng usually defaults lower when they fuck, heavy and pressed into He Xuan’s skin. But this is almost delicate, something he might poke fun at if it weren’t doing to him what it was.
He wonders distantly if Hua Cheng had suffered to build himself into such a confident being, or if it had come to him naturally. Regardless, He Xuan feels a little dizzied by it. The two of them are kneeling, licking softly into one another’s mouths like a pair of early morning lovers. Their hands slip over silk, undoing each other’s knots and ties as they go. They bare their skin, as bloodless as He Xuan’s but without the same sick tint.
“Mm,” one of them hums, still caught up in their kisses, but beginning to offer him flashes of their teeth as they smile between each one.
It’s wry, the shapes their mouths take. And wrier still, the way they lower themselves, half-clothed, to jointly mouth at the head of He Xuan’s cock.
A short, vicious puff of air leaves his lips right before his teeth clack from coming together hard.
They continue to kiss—utterly devious—while their tongues peek between their lips and roll over his tip. They meet in the middle, one laughing quietly when He Xuan’s erection twitches in his grasp. One tongue is searing hot and so alive while the other is icy as the dead, and it coaxes his hips upwards while he hisses between his teeth. The temperature divorce drips up his spine, notch by notch. He’s so turned on it’s hard to focus on anything else.
“How’s that for something to watch? Aren’t they handsome?” Sharpened nails draw over his scalp gently. Then, closer to his ear, “Hm, A-Xuan? Tell them you like it.”
“—Nn.”
The hand on his head comes around to hug his jaw. “Ah ah, say it properly.”
He Xuan’s eyes are beginning to sting in the cool night, open and trained on the sight of his cock rubbing back and forth between their lips. They begin to mouth down the shaft, still interrupting themselves with little kisses that make He Xuan’s thighs tense.
The hand on his jaw tightens.
“Nn— I like it,” he mutters, nostrils flaring.
“Gratitude is a virtue,” Hua Cheng murmurs, and releases his grip.
Two tongues, pitched to different tunes, drag up the sides of his cock with an expensive indulgence then meet in the middle. One licks the precum from his tip and the other kisses it out of his mouth, and He Xuan is nearing a crucial fall. His arousal has reached the point where it aches like the afterimage of a slap, and behind him, Hua Cheng begins stroking his bare back. His fingers strum over his spine like he’s a qin that’s strung too taut.
“You’re close, hm?” he murmurs, and He Xuan is on the very edge of a, “God, yeah,” when he freezes.
His peaked perception once again flickers to life at the sound of footsteps. Steady and sure, jingling coolly.
He looks at Hua Cheng with something in the realm of disbelief.
“Don’t let them distract you,” one of the duplicates hums, nosing at the other’s cheek as he takes the lead on sucking him off. He eases himself down onto He Xuan’s cock, abandoning all of the dreamy sedation in favour of more determined movements. Bobbing his head with firm, tight lips,
He Xuan grunts, screwing his eyes shut while his hands land atop Hua Cheng’s heads—both of them. It’s a different genre of pleasure, and it pushes him up to the point of climax almost immediately. He distantly recognizes the coos and purrs of a few more clones as they kneel beside him to watch the show, but his ears are buzzing, and his throat is tightening around the already quiet indicators of reaching the edge.
“Ah,” he gasps, shuddering briefly.
Hua Cheng pulls him into a hug from behind, chest to back, and tucks his chin over his shoulder. “Good boy; that’s it,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice.
He Xuan trembles minutely, a chained series of contractions pulling his body through his orgasm as he whimpers—the first real, vulnerable sound he’s allowed himself to make all evening. His muscles clench as that familiar sweep of ecstasy curls his toes, his eyes fluttering open to watch Hua Cheng between his legs, swallowing. He whispers a curse and leans back into the hug. The precious final seconds of his climax treat him well, mind going blank ever so briefly.
Before—
“Sweet boy.”
“Feels so good, doesn’t it?”
The satin crooning drifts to him through a fog at first, then in more striking detail when Hua Cheng—one of them—leans in to kiss him, cool fingers beneath his chin. His tongue is long and forked, He Xuan recognizes distantly.
“You look tired, lover,” he murmurs against He Xuan’s lips.
He’s barely kissing back, still attempting to linger in that post-orgasmic haze for another few moments. Lips parted, he lets him take what he wants from the kiss before he shifts back enough to look him in the eye.
“Precious,” he hums, smirking, then slowly reenters the ring of bodies that’s encircled him while the last of his pleasure drains from his body, leaving an empty sort of buzz in its wake.
Hua Cheng accepts his weight when he slumps into him and his hands begin drifting across his chest. Another settles near his feet and begins to gently massage his calf, fingers as cool as the ambient chill in the night air.
He Xuan swallows, his tongue twisting in his mouth. Maintaining his posture, he mutters, “Really?”
Hua Cheng laughs into his neck. “Insatiable isn’t a word I use lightly, my love,” he hums with a bite, “but you’ve outdone yourself, earning it several times over.”
He Xuan surveys the courtyard with a lazy tilt. Five of them. And every one of them wears the same expression: a sweet convolution of mischief and want. Some of them are taller and broader, more creature than not. It’s like being dropped into a den of wolves.
He Xuan’s brow twitches and he looks back.
Hua Cheng strokes a finger along the crease of his thigh. “Do you disagree?”
“…Five is excessive,” he murmurs, refusing to comment directly.
Hua Cheng’s lips quirk. “That’s a no.”
The finger draws over his softening cock before he takes him gently in hand. Like a pulse, the clones around him begin to shift then, crawling closer and finding places to settle. Hands begin roaming freely; down his chest and pelvis, under slim legs, up his neck to cup his cheeks. Every single touch is laced with possessiveness, like they’re each owed a claim to him. His arms are eased from the sleeves of his robe and held, lips brushing the backs of his knuckles.
There’s a faint furrow in his brow he can’t manage to smooth out, hesitant at the simple prospect of being outnumbered. It’s a threat response, finely honed in anyone with any amount of martial prowess, and Hua Cheng knows this. He knows it must be setting He Xuan’s teeth on edge. He knows his muscles are incapable of reaching that perfect calm, that state of relaxation Hua Cheng is able to lull him into. This is too much, too much, and Hua Cheng is drinking it in.
He opens his mouth to retort but struggles to think of anything that won’t bury him deeper.
Sometimes the love they share is like suffocation, all pressing and squeezing and throbbing until something gives and it funnels into sweet relief. He Xuan bites his tongue. He rests his head carefully on Hua Cheng’s shoulder and sinks into the tugging ocean of touches.
Trailing fingers follow the path blood used to take through his body, drawing along unused veins and arteries.
Hua Cheng pulls at his cock, urging him back to half-hardness within a few minutes, his cheek pressed to He Xuan’s.
“A-Xuan,” he starts, serene. “If you tell me you want us to stop…” he murmurs, as light as the lapping ripples of the lake. He noses at He Xuan’s jaw and the corner of his mouth turns up. “…I’ll call you a liar.”
A tremor rolls through He Xuan at that, latching on to the underlying meaning, the carefully enunciated inference: “slut” .
The hands caressing him develop an edge of roughness, like they’re reacting in tandem to Hua Cheng’s words, all suddenly eager to stake a claim on the prize they’re entitled to by having been brought into existence.
He Xuan’s hips curl weakly.
After quietly observing, Hua Cheng releases his cock and mutters, “Turn over.” It’s the tone of voice He Xuan has trouble disobeying.
He shifts to move and finds himself helped into place by the sea of caresses. They’re sticky, grabbing at his limbs with thinly-veiled intentions, lingering in every spot they touch, some warm, some cool, helping him over. Over, onto his knees. The ground is cushioned beneath him, hands sinking deep into plush pillows, embroidered, He Xuan notices, with the twisting forms of skeletal sea dragons.
His robe is peeled from his back, baring the pale planes of his body to an awaiting audience.
“That’s my good boy, finally taking orders.”
Hua Cheng—after stroking his back and petting his head—is now kneeling before him, brushing the more intrusive strands of hair from his cheeks. He tilts He Xuan’s head up with two fingers under his chin and smiles a soft, coy smile.
“Did coming soften you up for me?”
Another murmurs, “One more couldn’t hurt, hm?”
“Or two or three?”
Their voices threaten to warm He Xuan’s insides, controlled yet coiled, like the path of a snake through the sand.
He kisses He Xuan’s forehead and twists his hand to cup his cheek. The other hand begins undoing the clasps and ties of his own robe, drawing He Xuan’s gaze to the deft flick of fingers.
The slide of a pair of palms, up his hips to the round of his ass, is cool and unhurried. They knead the muscle, squeeze in a way that makes He Xuan’s tongue press flat to the roof of his mouth, then spread him. He shuts his eyes briefly, a hiss bleeding through his teeth.
“Oh, that’s a good look,” Hua Cheng murmurs, stroking his cheek. “Let’s overwhelm you.”
The hands on his body begin to blink, there and gone and there again, somewhere new. It’s like they’re trying to blanket every part of his skin with touch. Some touches are greedy, others are teasing, and He Xuan has to wonder briefly if the clones contain different aspects of Hua Cheng’s consciousness. Beneath every type of contact, though, is that bone-deep possessiveness Hua Cheng never fails to make known.
They want him, to kiss and claim and consume. It settles a bit of the tension He Xuan still holds, but not all of it.
The moon is all but absent tonight, just a knife’s slash in the sky. Still, He Xuan feels its faint, frigid light on his cheek, peeking in through the decorative slats of the courtyard’s roof.
He opens his eyes again to find Hua Cheng methodically bared, his robe and belts pooled around his knees. He’s hard in his pants—He Xuan had felt as much when they embraced chest to back—but makes no move to strip those off. Instead, he combs He Xuan’s hair back from his face, gathering it in one hand and tying it with a length of ribbon he’d procured with a flick of his wrist.
The clone behind him, with indulgent hands, thumbs over his hole and coos. He shifts in closer, pressing his still-clothed erection up against He Xuan’s balls, grinding against him gently.
A groan snaps at the stem when He Xuan’s throat closes around it.
“What’s wrong, love?” Hua Cheng hums, amused. “You’re acting precious tonight. Feeling like a virgin again?” He leans down and kisses He Xuan’s unresponsive lips. Then, close enough to share breath if their lungs desired it, he whispers, “If you won’t give yourself over, we’ll have to chase you down. You know that.”
A finger trails between his cheeks then, over his hole, and He Xuan feels himself slacken just a little on instinct. His hackles are still raised but it’s utterly biological how he reacts to Hua Cheng’s initiations—like a kept man. The finger is slick with oil as it rubs back and forth, waiting patiently for He Xuan to relax.
Hua Cheng’s lips twitch into a smile, the wryly amused kind, and he tilts forward to bump noses with him.
“Well?” he murmurs.
One of the clones at his side snakes a hand beneath his body to grab his cock and begins slowly stroking him, some added incentive.
“There we go,” the one pressed flush to his ass whispers, and He Xuan bites his tongue with the finger slides in. “You’re not even that tight.” He laughs and it mimics the tinkling of his jewellery. “How does two sound?”
He Xuan swallows.
“He asked you a question, A-Xuan,” Hua Cheng mutters, sitting back and beginning to unclasp his silver accessories.
“…Yes,” his voice breaks.
“Good boy.” It’s a taut offer of praise, an afterthought as he continues to strip himself.
“Ah—” He Xuan pants, one short, sharp moan when the second finger squeezes in alongside the first.
Lips touch down in the middle of his back, kissing the ridges of his spine as he’s fingered. Pumping slowly, he opens himself up to them, the faint curl of his back flattening out. Hands pad down his sides, tracing the lines of his ribs, sinking into the spaces in between where long dead organs lie, stagnant in his chest. The fist around his cock is tight and slippery with precum, moving with the cadence of the fingers in his ass.
“Fu-ck,” he breathes, so quietly.
“So sweet,” one of the clones purrs, laying his head between He Xuan’s shoulder blades.
In front of him, Hua Cheng is loosening his pants, lowering them to the floor, taking his cock in hand. That instinct, branded into his being, rears up again and He Xuan parts his lips before his lover.
“That’s right,” Hua Cheng praises softly. “So well-trained for such a troublesome boy.”
He Xuan’s throat silently bobs.
He presses the tip of his cock to He Xuan’s face, streaking precum along the fine line of his cheek until it shines, then down to his chin, and finally to the slit of his parted lips. He Xuan opens wider. The head of Hua Cheng’s cock presses down on his tongue, and he begins to slide himself in, hips inching forward. The weight in his mouth makes him drool, a stupid, human instinct that he can’t help flaring up, and he has to close his lips tight and swallow it down to stop spit dribbling from the corner of his lips.
Hua Cheng knows him too well—frighteningly well, he sometimes thinks, well enough that He Xuan might as well be flayed open on his table with Hua Cheng’s fingers in his guts. He chuckles down at He Xuan and runs two fingers up his throat, pressing in when he swallows. He Xuan squeezes his eyes shut, a bolt of arousal pulsing through him. His cock twitches in whoever’s fist is wrapped around it and they start to jerk him off faster.
A sea of fond laughter accompanies the waves of touches lapping at his bare body and He Xuan’s brows furrow. Hands pull his thighs apart, spreading his stance, and the fingers stretching him open squeeze in until the knuckles are pressed flush to his skin, then crook. He moans, a jerky sound of surprise around Hua Cheng’s cock, and pushes his hips back.
“That’s it, that’s our boy,” one murmurs, leaning in to kiss his neck.
Then another, on his other side, “You want his cock?”
He Xuan’s drawn brows smooth out a bit in his desperation. “Mm… mhm…” he hums, cautious as Hua Cheng slides his cock deeper, nearing the breach of his throat.
“Then show us you deserve it,” Hua Cheng says from above him.
He Xuan cushions him with his tongue, tightens his lips, opens his throat. He feels Hua Cheng’s grip around his hair, feels it tighten.
“I said us, love.”
His eyes, already beginning to cross, flick up to find a perfect copy of Hua Cheng by his side, pulling his pants down enough for his heavy erection to bob up. A wispy sound, choked off when he swallows, betrays his interest to everyone around him.
Hua Cheng pulls his cock slowly from his mouth and says, “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He eases He Xuan off of him but remains holding his hair, keeping an unpredictable pet on his shortest leash.
A sudden shudder wracks him when the fingers inside him crook up again, loosening his taut body a little more. He Xuan grunts, toes curling, then drops his jaw and tilts his head as much as Hua Cheng’s grip will allow.
The newcomer flashes him a look of hardly-stifled amusement, and holds his cock up to He Xuan’s lips. He can feel the resistance physically draining out of him like letting blood from a wound; it’s one of the many nebulous effects Hua Cheng has on him, shunting his mind into another sort of functioning. The benefits of mutual obsession are wide reaching, but their shared pleasure is concentrated at its core.
He Xuan licks the tip of his cock, lets him slap it weakly against his tongue, before wrapping his lips around him and sinking down. He’s already on the edge of another orgasm, wound tight by the hands between his legs. He murmurs his pleasure around the weight on his tongue and swallows back a flood of saliva.
“So fucking good, A-Xuan,” he mutters, scratching his head, “You know that, don’t you?”
“Mm—”
He lifts one hand to wrap it around the neglected cock in his face, aware of the stipulation to please them both. The swift bobbing, pressing in until Hua Cheng nudges at his throat, pulls free a heavy sound of praise. He’s going to come.
“Mm-m,” he croaks in warning, voice broken up by the prodding head of a cock. His hips cant down weakly, into the hand stroking him off, again, again, until his toes curl hard and he’s clawing at the silks, coming across the cushions beneath his knees. He Xuan shudders, pausing for just a second before slowly continuing to bob his head.
“Very good,” Hua Cheng murmurs—the one holding his ponytail. “Excellent.”
Tapering down off his climax, there’s an absence of panting or gasping, his lungs quiet in his chest.
He doesn’t know whether it’s a reward for his behaviour, for his skill at sucking cock, or if Hua Cheng has just grown impatient, but the fingers spreading him open finally withdraw. The slick head of a cock replaces them, held in place against the cleft of his ass as he ruts his hips a few times.
He Xuan pulls back enough to croak, “Wait.” His softening dick twitches, a warning buzz rolling through his overstimulated body. Hua Cheng shushes him with a thumb to his lips. “If we wait too long, not everyone will get a turn. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” The glint in his eye and quirk of his brow are indicators enough of his impure intentions; putting it into words is purely for his own benefit.
He Xuan quietly hisses when behind him, Hua Cheng begins to press in. A groan that makes the hair at his nape stand pleasantly on end rumbles through the evening air. It’s never tedious, the first time Hua Cheng eases in his cock. The prospect of being penetrated, being held open and taken, resonates so deeply with He Xuan, and nobody else responds to the call like Hua Cheng does. So by the time he’s squeezed in halfway, He Xuan is gritting his teeth to force down his body’s interest.
“Not so bad, is it?” Hua Cheng mumbles behind him. His thumb prods at He Xuan’s rim as he begins drawing out and sinking in again. “God, this hole was made to be used, don’t you think?”
He Xuan huffs, feeling an unfamiliar sting of breathlessness.
“As was this one,” the Hua Cheng at his front says. His thumb pushes past the seam of his lips, easing open his gritted teeth, and landing coolly on his tongue. “Open, would you?”
His jaw goes slack, opening for whichever one of them is eager to use him next.
“More,” Hua Cheng requests.
He watches as they both pull close, erections bobbing in his face. He Xuan understands all at once, and opens his mouth wider, accommodating the heads of two kissing cocks while he sucks at the tips.
“My clever boy,” Hua Cheng says, toeing the line of a laugh. “Use your tongue.”
He Xuan’s erection, filled back out to half-hardness, jerks between his legs as he laps at the lazy drool of pre-cum. They fit what they can into his mouth, rubbing up against each other, the same slight curve to their matching cocks. They fuck up, taking turns bruising the roof of his mouth as he tries desperately to keep up. Spit slides down his chin, onto the silks and cushions, and he doesn’t have the chance to swallow it back.
Not-so-distantly does he register the grip on his hips tightening, and the pace picking up—his knees would be rubbed raw by now on any other surface. He moans and slurps, catching a bit of drool from slipping down his lips, down his chin, his chest. The thrusts are rough enough that his ass starts stinging, and his body jerks forward with each one.
“Fuck, A-Xuan,” he hears, the first genuine expression of ruin from Hua Cheng tonight.
He groans, short and sharp as twin cocks stretch his lips to their limit. Slap after slap , tight and precise, and He Xuan is pathetically hard again.
The frantic thrusting comes very suddenly to a halt—hips are flush to his ass and rolling in deep circles, savouring the squeeze as he comes as far inside He Xuan as he can manage.
He Xuan trembles, shutting his eyes and going weak in the elbows, which earns him a slap in the face with the fat length of a cock. Then the clone behind him pulls out, and is immediately replaced by another, sliding in sharply until his balls slap He Xuan’s. He Xuan gasps, eyebrows pulling in as he slurs a curse around the cock head brushing his lips. This one is different: ridged and longer, pressing directly into He Xuan’s prostate and effectively pulling all his focus.
“Are you gonna let me come in your mouth?” Hua Cheng pants, although he’s not sure which one.
“Yeah,” he whimpers, broken.
“And you’ll swallow it all?”
“Yeah.”
He Xuan is pressing hard into his hands to stop himself being fucked forward. He doesn’t need anymore forward leverage when he’s already being choked on cock.
Without warning, cum starts streaking the back of his throat and he swallows desperately, pulling it all down into his stomach. The taste is so painfully familiar that he almost sinks into that stare of mindless comfort right then and there, with Hua Cheng on his tongue. His eyes close with the sudden overwhelming draw to happy numbness.
“Stay with us, A-Xuan,” one of the clones at his side whispers, pressed close to his ear.
“Mm—”
He Xuan sluggishly opens his eyes and lets his mouth fall shut when the crest of Hua Cheng’s orgasm has passed and he’s withdrawn himself. Congratulatory pets and prods fall across his back and sides. The hard clash of their bodies lulls into a gentle fuck, and whichever clone is behind him at the moment folds himself over his back.
“How does it feel, love? To have so many hands lifting you up? Does it turn you on?”
He Xuan swallows, slowly regaining some of his composure.
“You know,” Hua Cheng murmurs sweetly, “my A-Xuan, the greedy slut that he is, must be craving more. Perhaps a third hole to fuck is what he needs, hm?”
He Xuan lets out a weak noise of recognition and allows himself a moment to drop his head, to look between his legs at the ceaseless rutting rhythm of sex. The clone behind him is a handsome bruise-colour, the kind of demon humans so often picture them as.
Hua Cheng cuts it short by lifting him up, knuckles under the chin. “Show us that pretty little cunt, would you, lover?” The last word curls off his tongue.
He actually has to put a few seconds of effort into it, the visualization and the channeling of spiritual energy before he feels the weight of his erection disappear. Almost instantly, fingers loop around to play with his pussy, spreading the folds and stroking up the centre line, circling the clit.
He Xuan spreads his legs further apart to try and encourage those fingers inside. Two, three, four fingers gather together at his already soaked entrance. They glide through the slick, lubing up before two sink straight into the knuckle. The tension in He Xuan’s body spikes briefly before it melts away, that ideal sensation of fullness encompassing him.
Hua Cheng was right—he always is—about him craving more. He craves a satiation he doesn’t admit to aloud; he craves overwhelm and order through chaos and his skin to be branded by touch. And when he doesn’t even know what he craves, Hua Cheng still does.
The third finger joins them, then, after a long minute of squirming and whimpering, the fourth. The insistent press into his ass is still there, cautious and neat. The thrusts are slow and long—the way Hua Cheng fucks him at sunrise, curled beneath the sheets. Hands on his shoulders and chest help him upright, and he settles into the arms of the monstrous clone at his back, who kisses his neck and holds his hips in place, grinding in precious circles.
One of the Hua Chengs, he’s lost track at this point, crawls over and kisses him. It’s a patient kiss with a coaxing tongue, something nice and simple for He Xuan to lose himself in while he’s stretching around four fingers. The fingers withdraw eventually and the kiss flickers out not long after. He Xuan is face to face with Hua Cheng, who’s looking between his eyes with curious entertainment.
“You’re already so gone,” he whispers, breaking into a smile.
He Xuan just blinks, eyes red-rimmed but alert enough to follow as Hua Cheng takes his cock in his fist and presses it to He Xuan’s pussy. Just the head fucks between his folds, grinding up and down on his slit. When it teases upwards, dragging over his clit, He Xuan shudders and clutches at Hua Cheng’s shoulders.
“Ah … put it in,” he rasps, hips twitching.
Hua Cheng doesn’t look up at him, gaze still lingering between their legs, but a smirk materializes on his lips. “Put it in…?”
He Xuan rucks his hips up, desperate to be spread open on both ends. “Hua-gege,” he says quickly, albeit under his breath.
Hua Cheng grinds the tip of his cock up into He Xuan’s clit and circles it, chasing all the subtlety from his body. He crumples forward, clutching at Hua Cheng with a cry.
“…What was that?” he asks, lining himself up with his cunt.
“Fuck,” he gawks, voice breaking, “Hua-gege, please.”
“Better.” With some effort, the fat head of his cock squeezes in, and He Xuan’s legs immediately struggle to keep him up. Hua Cheng rocks his hips just enough to drive himself in, in, a little deeper, just a little, until he sinks all the way in, chest-to-chest with He Xuan.
He tucks his chin over Hua Cheng’s shoulder and curses, the word long and raw in his throat. They’re both holding still for him, at the front and back, allowing a precious moment to just feel. He Xuan jerks his hips, feels the overwhelming presence of two sources of intrusion, splitting him open and keeping him in place between them. He couldn’t move if he wanted to, stuck chest-to-back-to-chest between two flawless copies of his lover.
Over Hua Cheng’s shoulder he can see the other four in various states of undress, touching themselves or just watching with a curious tilt of the head.
A hand comes up to pet his head, soothing the loose strands of hair back behind his ears. His arms loop around Hua Cheng’s neck and, experimentally, He Xuan rocks his hips, back first, then forwards. His tongue curls in his mouth and he bites down hard, the absurd pleasure entirely unquantifiable. All it does is shift the angle of the cocks inside him slightly, but the fullness is a separate factor entirely.
“Move,” he pants, and watches the clones over Hua Cheng’s shoulder smile at him with sharpened teeth peeking out. The one behind him moves first, grip migrating to his hips as he draws back and carefully rocks forward. He Xuan’s vision narrows as his eyelids droop, weight resting more heavily on his lover.
“Are we going to lose you if I start fucking this tight pussy? Hm?” Hua Cheng coos into his ear as he strokes his head.
God, He Xuan hopes so. But he shakes his head weakly and elicits a muttered, “Good boy.”
The first thrust alone nearly brings He Xuan down, sliding in, perfectly synced, until he feels the dull pressure of Hua Cheng’s cock bumping his cervix. It shunts the lingering air from his lungs, and alerts He Xuan to the fact that he’s begun sucking in breath. A long, long lost instinct. If Hua Cheng notices, which he certainly does, he doesn’t say anything.
His cock sinks in again, and again, beginning to press a rhythm between He Xuan’s legs like the beating of a drum. Behind him, the pace is matched with inhuman synchronicity. He Xuan’s legs start trembling, a faint quiver that travels up his thighs to the trunk of his body. He whimpers and tightens his arms around Hua Cheng, clinging to him for stability. A sort of pleasure he can feel all the way up in his throat sings through him as his body provides only the most basic alerts—full, empty, full.
The clone in front places his hands over the other’s, allowing him to rut in quicker. He Xuan moans, detached and weak as they begin to offset one another, taking turns pulling his hips towards themselves so he’s bounced back and forth between them while they fuck his holes. Like a doll.
Blankness is inching in at the fringes of his mind, blissful and white.
“Still with us, A-Xuan?” Hua Cheng teases, kissing his neck.
He Xuan just grunts, grip going limper and limper as the moments pass.
“So pretty,” Hua Cheng murmurs, squeezing his hips and fucking in harder, fulfilling his own needs.
He Xuan is wetter than he can ever remember himself being, slick trailing down his thighs, dripping onto the silks below, easing the rapid punch of both Hua Cheng’s’ hips. His orgasm catches him entirely off guard, the build up condensed into a split second before he’s careening off the edge and crying out. The spectators gladly eat up every precious twist of his face as he comes. Twinned groans come from either side of him as he clenches down, rocked by the pulsing contraction of muscles, radiating out from his core.
“Oh—fuck,” Hua Cheng groans roughly.
He Xuan grips tight on instinct when he’s pulled down backwards, splayed out on his back atop one of the clones. The other looms above them both, hands braced on either side of He Xuan’s shoulders, fucking into He Xuan with furious intent. He wears his impending orgasm on his face, slack with pleasure then drawing in on itself little by little until his mouth falls open.
“Ah, A-Xuan.”
“Gege,” He Xuan croaks, going limp as he’s filled with a third climax.
“Shit, say that again, keep saying it.”
“Gege, gege, Hua-gege,” he breathes, tight in the chest. He throbs around Hua Cheng as he offers his cunt pulse after quivering pulse.
Then, before he can even reorient himself, insistent hands pull He Xuan’s head backwards, baring his throat for kisses. From upside down, he sees one of the clones—or maybe the real deal—kneeling, cock in hand. He Xuan doesn’t need instructing, he’s been well broken-in. His jaw goes slack, lips covering his teeth as Hua Cheng slips into the heat of his mouth and starts fucking it.
Tears bead immediately in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision, then break and run down his temples and into his hair. He tries to hum, moan, anything, but his throat is full with the swollen head of Hua Cheng’s erection, sloppily thrusting in again and again. His neck bulges from it—he can tell by the palms that press flat to his throat, groping like they’re desperate for a blessing. Spit streaks across his cheek, seeping from his spread lips and smeared by the slap of Hua Cheng’s balls. He barely even notices when Hua Cheng draws out of his pussy to once again be hastily replaced.
He Xuan manages a scratchy sound that stutters in the split-seconds between having his throat fucked. The replacement fingers his cunt for a moment, easing out some of the cum and painting it across his thighs before sinking in with a slick shove.
He Xuan’s body jerks, mind all but switched off now, under the merciless barrage of weaponized pleasure. He’s like a pool of water, no longer calm and unbroken with so many eager hands dipping in and agitating the surface. Ripples, first, then waves; the water is holy in this place and everyone is seeking its purity.
He blindly reaches to his sides, seeking contact, seeking touch. A gentle hand finds his and guides it to wrap around a cock, where he can fall into the familiar lull of stroking it, wrist twisting, grip tightening.
All he can hear are the wet gulps of his throat, caught between gagging and swallowing. He’s breathing shallowly through his nose when he can. Years of instinct pile upon him, controlling every aspect of his being as his mind sinks heavily into the depths of pleasure, of submission. Time passes the way it did while he was dying, with a diligent, almost pleasant slowness.
His other hand finds home on another slick cock, pulling and thumbing at it until he hears a hiss that’s already imprinted into his memory, and feels thick ropes of cum stripe his chest.
They seem to be floating towards a staggered, collective climax, like fireworks popping off. Whether this has to do with a shared consciousness or not, He Xuan doesn’t know and certainly doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to care about anything at the moment other than giving Hua Cheng pleasure and reaching his fourth orgasm of the night.
The thrusting into his throat grows rougher all of a sudden before the weight of his cock is gone and He Xuan is closing his eyes as his orgasm is wrung out onto his face. He gasps, swallowing weakly when some lands in his mouth, and blinks open tacky eyelashes to watch Hua Cheng’s pleasure from upside down.
Between his legs, a frantic pace is still drumming away, self-satisfying. It’s loud in the evening air, and obvious were anyone to pass by.
He Xuan whimpers when a hand comes to his cunt, thumbing slow circles around his clit. It slides through the mess of slick and cum, almost too slippery to get any real friction, but nails the tender nerve receptors. A strict curve arches out He Xuan’s back and he squeezes down, thighs clamping around the clone between his legs.
“Ah—ah—” Short, sharp moans are pulled from him like his throat has been possessed.
From beneath, hands trail up his sides and hold tight around his ribs; the slide into his ass is likewise eased by the mess of fluids between his legs. He’s distantly aware of murmuring in his ear, little praises that mean Hua Cheng is getting close.
“My good boy, perfect, letting me fuck you however I want.”
He Xuan moans, open-mouthed and low. “Hua—Hua-gege.”
He barely feels when the one below him hits his climax, too hypnotized by the thumb rounding his clit.
The cock he’s been lazily jerking off pulls out of his grip, aiming at his chest and coming in quick spurts across it.
“A-Xuan, you’re such a mess,” the one still fucking him pants. “You fucking love it, hm?”
He Xuan hums weakly.
“Just like I knew you would. Should I come in your cunt or on your chest, love?”
He Xuan whines, throat sore and broken from being fucked; both options are equally desirable to his lust-swollen mind.
Hua Cheng laughs and starts rutting, faster, harder, into him. He thrusts his hips forward one last time, probably bruising He Xuan’s cervix with the force, and comes deep inside.
He Xuan is breathing shallowly, enslaved by his own instinct. The pressure of orgasm inside him can’t possibly push him any further, but it does give him a pleasant buzz.
“…Can you speak to me, A-Xuan?” The voice floats through a haze to reach him.
“…Mm.”
Several hands, tender and caring, lift him like they’re plucking a flower, up off the clone beneath him and back onto the silks and cushions. Hua Cheng cups his cheek, smearing the cum on his face with a thumb, and kisses his wet lips, and He Xuan feels, inexplicably, that this is the original.
“How do you feel?” he whispers, smiling against his lips.
He Xuan makes a sound that isn’t quite coherent and the smile widens.
“Used?” Hua Cheng asks, “Satisfied?” He moves slowly down He Xuan’s body. “Finally full?”
“Mm.”
“You’ve been excellent for us; would you like to come one more time?”
With the capacity he has to move, He Xuan puffs up his chest, nods.
Hua Cheng kneels between He Xuan’s spread thighs and bows. “I can do that.” He licks flat up the line of his cunt, cum collecting on his tongue as He Xuan watches, feeling, remarkably, winded. He swallows and closes his lips around He Xuan’s clit, sucking softly, and taking the heart-pounding, breath-stealing pulse of the courtyard back down to a simmer.
He Xuan vaguely recognizes that they’re alone now, the clones having been dismissed. Hua Cheng eats him out carefully, the pressure a perfect middle point to ease He Xuan towards his fourth orgasm. The slow ebb and flow of arousal continues lapping at the inside of his chest, allowing his weight to sink back. He presses his hips up into Hua Cheng’s mouth, rolling against his tongue.
He’s watching He Xuan with a love-drunk eye, drawing his tongue back and forth then dipping down to suck at his cunt.
Weakly, He Xuan threads his hands into his hair. “Hua-gege,” he croaks softly.
Hua Cheng hums into him and it shocks a hiss out of him. His tongue shifts into a practiced point, flicking across his clit with vicious specificity until He Xuan is shuddering, trembling, quivering, coming. It effuses from him like water, lightening his body.
Hua Cheng coos, lips separating from his body as his climax starts to recede, and sits up. He’s hard, flushed red down to the head of his cock. “Precious thing,” he murmurs, pressing his tip to He Xuan’s folds. He begins to stroke himself with a tight hand, wet sounds finding He Xuan through the fuzz in his head. “Call my name one more time.”
He Xuan sucks in a shuddering breath like he was at risk of dying without it, and breathes, “Hua Cheng.”
He bites his lip and grunts quietly when he comes there, against his clit. Hua Cheng rocks his hips a few times, fucking the head between his folds before sitting back on his heels to admire the mess He Xuan is sure he’s become. Cum on his face, chest, and between his legs, tears streaking his cheeks, and barely-there fingerprint bruises on his hips and legs.
Hua Cheng gives him an assessing look before he mutters, “I love you.”
There’s a stillness in the air before a genuine laugh burbles from He Xuan’s throat. He’s still too lost to reply, so he offers a hum and shuts his eyes.
“I know you know,” Hua Cheng continues, fingers running over his thigh. “But it’s nice to say, sometimes.”
He Xuan can hear the smirk in his voice. He breathes one final sigh before the rise and fall of his lungs ceases again, remembering himself.
A cool cloth presses between his legs and begins to wipe, easing out and cleaning the spend from his body. He feels content not to help Hua Cheng, lying still while letting him move his limbs for him. It moves up his trunk to his chest, wiping in gentle circles. It’s the kind of touch that might count as foreplay if they hadn’t just done what they’d done.
He Xuan loves teasing out Hua Cheng’s sweet streak.
He continues to wash and kisses the newly cleaned skin, chasing his hand all the way up to He Xuan’s face. He wipes his chin, his cheeks, his brow, then presses a kiss to his lips.
He Xuan makes a gritty sound of acknowledgement into his mouth then turns onto his side, inviting Hua Cheng to slide in behind him. He pulls one of the silks over their naked bodies and nuzzles into He Xuan’s neck, nipping playfully.
“Tired enough to sleep? We must’ve really done our job.”
The wind pulls at a chime dangling near the courtyard, filling the dead of night with a sound not dissimilar to Hua Cheng’s.
He Xuan likes it.
He folds in on himself in Hua Cheng’s arms, and before sleep can take him, murmurs, “Love you, too.”
Hua Cheng kisses the top of his head. “I know.”