baiyueguang | Deer County IC Contact

Lucky for Xichen, Jin Guangyao brings some limited experience in such matters to their bed--but he has no desire to tame or gentle his passion, the artlessness of it enough to drag a moan out of his chest, muffled though it is into their kiss. Jin Guangyao yields to that kiss, all deceptive softness and warmth in his parted lips and the careful application of tongue, and if he moves one hand from his lover's hair to cradle his jaw, to gently guide and show his Er-ge how he likes to be kissed, he does it with a soft, deft touch.

And if Xichen is an especially attentive pupil--and of course he is, what else could anyone expect from the Gusu Lan's peerless First Jade?--his reward for his diligent work is the slow, rhythmic, rocking grind of Jin Guangyao's hips into his.

He has to break the kiss to rest their foreheads together at the exquisite hot-cold friction created by his cock sliding against Lan Xichen's, breathing out a rough-sounding, "Er-ge, Lan Huan," against his lips. Jin Guangyao is a veritable furnace burning up from the inside from desire in comparison to Lan Xichen's coldblooded frame, and that shock of cold pressing up against the heat of him between his thighs threatens to drag another near-obscene sound of want out of him.

(It is helping him to answer one very important question, however, and that is what he wishes to experience first: being inside Lan Xichen, or having Lan Xichen inside of him.)

It's a relief to be guided, and the positive reinforcement yields swift results. Perhaps Lan Xichen is a quick learner, or perhaps he is simply primed for Jin Guangyao's affection in a way he wouldn't be for anyone else. He only knows that he wants to keep kissing Jin Guangyao for the rest of his life, those soft lips more important to him than the very air he breathes.

The languid roll of Jin Guangyao's hips has his own moving in tandem, drops of sweat from his beloved freezing on his own chilly skin as he finds his own rhythm to meet his lover's.

His hand slides between where their bodies are joined at the hips and wraps his fingers around their grinding erections, giving a few experimental strokes. His eyes are open again, dark as night as he watches Jin Guangyao, gauging each reaction, so that he can minimize his own inexperienced fumblings and touch his beloved how he deserves.

"A-Yao," he murmurs just to say it, his lips wandering over his chin, his jaw, his pulse, where sucks a dark bruise. (No more shame, no more hiding, no more holding back. This is theirs, this is what should have always been from the moment Meng Yao reached for a bruised, broken, grieving Lan Xichen's hand in a dark alley surround by the bodies of Wen soldiers.)

For once, there's no complex formula or set of rituals that must be endured to unlock the secret to what Jin Guangyao wants. In Lan Xichen's arms, at least, he is remarkably straight-forward and demonstrative about what he enjoys, and none of those things are particularly complicated. Lan Xichen's grip around both of them, stroking them together in tandem with each instinctive, shuddering forward motion of his hips, is enough to make Jin Guangyao cry out, a fox-bark sound of pleasure; a tighter grip, just skirting the edges of pain yet not quite crossing that line, quickens his breathing and makes the limber muscles of his inner thighs tremble, makes his fingers in Lan Xichen's hair tighten reflexively before he loosens them again. Jin Guangyao keeps his neck arched in clear invitation for Lan Xichen to leave as many bruising love bites as he desires along his skin, each little burning kiss making his breath catch, thrilling at the idea of having such things seen, of having evidence of their lovemaking visible, because such a thing would have been beyond unthinkable in their world. (Once the haze of his arousal and the afterglow fade, he will, more than likely, make use of his golden core to quicken the healing process a bit. After all, one cries out for many things that maybe one should reconsider, when caught up in their passion.)

All this to say that Lan Xichen should not be concerned about his inexperience being an impediment to his ability to satisfy. He's doing very well--perhaps too well.

"Enough," Jin Guangyao manages to gasp and drops a hand down to grasp hold of Lan Xichen's hand, stilling it before his diligent attentions bring all of this to an end too quickly. Breathing out unsteadily, he presses several soft kisses across his lover's brow, following perfectly the place where the Gusu Lan forehead ribbon would rest, if he were wearing it. "Er-ge," he says against his skin in between kisses, "is a very quick study," another lingering kiss to the bridge of his nose, "to what this A-Yao enjoys." He leans back just enough to look into his eyes, and to gift Lan Xichen with a genuine smile, all warmth and, at long last, a touch coy. Because he's allowed to be like this now.

Another kiss to the tip of Lan Xichen's nose this time, before he lifts his hand to press two fingers under his chin, to tilt his face up so that he can press a deceptively chaste kiss against his lips, eyes sliding closed. Then, drawing back so that their lips still brush when he speaks, he murmurs, "What does Er-ge want?" and lets his eyes open partway, regarding him in the dim light. His touch ventures down to rest near his erection without touching it again; just to make it clear he isn't speaking about their emotions here, Jin Guangyao is quite clear that they're on the same page there.

He feels more naked with out his ribbon than his clothes, to be honest, and the sensation of Jin Guangyao's lips where it would be sends a shudder through him. He searches for it amidst the hastily folded pile of robes draped on the chaise and -- are those two sets of his outer robes...? Right... the other Meng Yao was a fair bit broader than Jin Guangyao, and his heart jumps at the thought of his beloved putting on some weight and muscle. He knows he's always found Jin Guangyao attractive - beautiful, even, if he's being sentimental (and really, when is not?), but the thought of him with dimples dipping fuller cheeks, warmth and colour in his face, the better part of fear and stress chased away and him able to focus on his passions and cultivation...

...Could they have that too...?

His hand stills under Jin Guangyao's touch, with only a lingering stroke of his thumb over the leaking slit because the mischief has gotten into him and it won't leave. He's very pleased that he's managed to get his lover this close already - though he suspects it's likely the same reason he's so close as well, and it has little to do with skill and everything to do with the fact he is with the man he's loved for twenty years.

He presses kisses to the corners of Jin Guangyao's smile, to the dimples it forms, and beams back at him, warmth radiating from his expression despite the chill of his body.

"A shorter list would be what this one doesn't want. A-Yao, I want to be yours, forever. I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to show you every day that I love you, and always will."

He lightly bumps their foreheads together, the tips of their noses touching.

"I would like A-Yao to be my husband."

The more Lan Xichen speaks, the more Jin Guangyao's lips curl into a small, tenderly exasperated sort of smile, because of course he knows these things, Er-ge--most of them, at least. Not the bit about Xichen wishing to kiss every inch of his body--he had suspected that, naturally, but it is nice to hear it spoken aloud--but the rest is just a gentle, wistful reminder of all the words that had gone unsaid between them over the years of their friendship. It kindles such a sweet ache in his heart to hear them now; they had been as devoted to each other, in their way, as their world allowed.

And Jin Guangyao is on the cusp of telling this to Lan Xichen, to kindly silencing him to remind him that this A-Yao had always been his, when he hears that, and his words abandon him.

Still in Lan Xichen's lap, he sits back enough to brace his hands on both of his shoulders, to stare into his eyes in a rather shrewd way because, no, he doesn't think his Er-ge would joke about something like this, and he would not even ask if they were back in their own world, even if Jin Guangyao had not made his bows before Qin Su and had opted to remain unwed, because they both knew that a life as Lan-furen would never have made him happy. But, he realizes (and even thinking such things softens his eyes and makes him swallow around the sudden surge of emotion in his chest) this isn't their world, and Jin Guangyao has seen enough of marriage in Trench to know that what Lan Xichen is offering him is not the unequal shackle of furen that all who marry sect leader husbands must accept. It is not an alliance of clans and families for power and politics.

This is more than Lan Xichen promising Jin Guangyao, here in the privacy of their home, their bed, that will love him forever. This is Zewu-jun asking for permission to proclaim his love for the lowly Meng Yao, Jin Guangshan's whoreson bastard, to the rest of the world.

"Er-ge--" Jin Guangyao is determined not to cry, but his voice catches even as he smiles, and he furiously blinks away a sheen of wetness from his eyes before dragging in a shaky breath. He lifts both hands to cradle Lan Xichen's cheeks and presses a quick, hard kiss to his mouth, then draws back to nod, laughing weakly, and, "yes, I will, I will marry you," before he kisses him again, and again, and again, arms winding around his shoulders.

What a great relief it is that Jin Guangyao understands what Xichen is aiming for - what he wants - truly wants - for them both. It was, in part, his original intention of the sworn brotherhood. But that had very different connotations to what their relationship to each other really was, and having to act within those restrictions was... confining to say the very least.

As liberating as simply proclaiming their love might initially have been, it would have only hurt Jin Guangyao in the long run.

And yet here they can have this. A partnership of equals where they can declare themselves without shame or dire consequence. Jin Guangyao would not be Lan-furen. He would be Jin Guangyao, husband to Lan Xichen. (Though Xichen cannot say with certainty that he would not have taken some strange delight in being A-Yao's Jin-furen. Something, perhaps, to contemplate for a later time.)

A laugh bubbles out of him, warm and bright and without his usual constraint, and his eyes are far from dry when he embraces his lover. ...His betrothed.

"A-Yao - my most beloved A-Yao -" he meets each kiss eagerly, because how can he refuse such a wonderful thing...?

"...My husband."

He says it, just to say it, because he never thought he could. Marriage meant something so very different in their world, that something as simple as this had seemed impossibly out of reach.

And yet it's such a small thing to want, really. To spend your life with a partner you love and cherish, that neither party be denigrated or placed beneath the other, that they can simply live and work together without having to sacrifice their old life.

...Why was that so impossible?

Maybe he will never know. But for now, he can cover Jin Guangyao's face with kisses, and stroke his long black hair, perhaps give the lobe of his ear an experimental nibble. Xichen is finding he really, really, likes to use his mouth.

"My husband," Lan Xichen says, and hearing that does something to Jin Guangyao viscerally. He can't quiet the hungry sound that catches in his throat, and lets it out in a moan into Lan Xichen's hair, because yes, he decides, yes, he wants this more than air, they deserve this--

"Husband," he says and somehow manages to sound both reverent and extremely hot for the man whose lap he's still straddling, naked and hard. He turns his face to the side to kiss Lan Xichen's temple, his cheekbone, then licks the shell of his ear, in time with a precise forward grind of his hips that slides his erection across the taut muscles of Lan Xichen's stomach; the friction causes him to shudder bodily, thighs tightening.

Another kiss to his ear, and then, with both tenderness and heat, he says, "Er-ge, I want to have you inside me."

Oh, he thinks quite frantically. Oh that feels very good.

Which is a bit of an understatement, really, but Lan Xichen isn't exactly operating on all cylinders at the moment. It feels intense, and he's close to coming or dying or both but in any circumstance this will be over all too quickly and really, that's just unacceptable. Not when he wants forever with Jin Guangyao.

(Speaking of whomst, the way he ruts against his belly is utterly hypnotizing. He doesn't know if he wants his beloved to spend all over his stomach, or to throw him down on the mattress, crawl between his legs and take him into his mouth and --)

Er-ge, I want to have you inside me.

Lan Xichen's brain comes to a screeching halt.

I can do that too, he thinks at last.

"Yes," comes a choked sound, and his mind darts back to the memories of his alternate self, and where they had put the ...it wasn't oil. Some manner of gel they'd purchased...? Either way, he needed that, and so he slips an arm under Jin Guangyao for support, and hoists him up as he stands without even a grunt of effort, so he can go procure that miraculous tube of jelly from the bedside table.

It's half empty. Honestly, those two weren't even here for two weeks!

He shivers when that arm encircles him low around his waist and smiles against his skin, then blinks in confusion when he feels Lan Xichen move. Jin Guangyao has time only yelp, "Er-ge--!" in surprise as he's hoisted up. Startled and wide-eyed, he is quick to clutch at Lan Xichen's shoulders for balance and stability, but caught off-guard as he is, he's quick to laugh a few moments later. "You could have left me in bed." ~~like, he's not going to run away, this was his idea too~~

He drops a hand from its grip on Lan Xichen's shoulder to open nightstand's shallow drawer, then neatly withdraws it a moment later with the tube of lubricant in hand. Then he turns to find Lan Xichen's neck with his lips and tongue and press a line of warm, open-mouthed kisses against his throat, gliding his teeth gingerly across places where he has already left marks that will bruise. Shameless, he knows, and decides that for now, he will stop caring about it.

He presses the tube into Lan Xichen's hand and nudges him back towards the bed without pausing in his attentions to his betrothed's neck. "Zewu-jun should prepare his husband," he suggests in between kisses, and does not elaborate upon what he means by that, preferring instead to let Lan Xichen's vivid imagination fill in the blanks. He's an artist, after all. His is a visual medium.

"If Lianfang-zun thinks this Zewu-jun is letting him go any time soon," he speaks with the slightest hint of a throaty growl, "he is thoroughly mistaken."

How long he's wanted to hold A-Yao! Nothing like having to stand up to get something is going to make itself any kind of obstacle if he has anything to say about it.

The kisses to his throat elicit a soft, pleasured sound out of him and as he closes his fingers around the tube, he nuzzles lovingly into the crook of Jin Guangyao's neck, leaving his own shameless trail of kisses and love bites.

(He doesn't need much of an imagination to work out what Jin Guangyao means - he has some memories of his other self, and even if he didn't, the context of his earlier request is painting a very vivid picture.)

Lubricant acquired (and Xichen is not one for boasting but they're really going to need it), he sinks back into the cushions, drinking in the sight of his lover, his betrothed, sprawled over him. Jin Guangyao really is a vision and he's not sure how they managed to keep their hands off each other for twenty years, because now that he's had a taste... well. Their former arrangement is now quite untenable.

He can't warm the gel, and he murmurs an apology against the shell of Jin Guangyao's ear, before running the tip of a slicked, chilly finger over the creased rim of his entrance.

Fear was a hell of a libido-inhibitor, in Jin Guangyao's experience. But such recollections of the legitimate reasons they remained apart from each other in the cultivation world are far from the forefront of his mind right now.

He lets out a breathless "oh" at the cold, intimate press of Lan Xichen's finger against him, but does not flinch away in discomfort. Instead his breath quickens, and he turns his face to the side to kiss Lan Xichen's temple, then his ear. "Zewu-jun does not need to apologize," he whispers and presses himself back into that touch; his face contorts in an expression of startled pleasure, eyelashes fluttering closed and his lips parted. "Zewu-jun is doing so well. Oh, Er-ge--" he drops his forehead to rest against Lan Xichen's collarbone, "--Huan-er, I love you." A kiss against pressed to his bare skin, and he says it again, breathless: "I love you."

Perhaps he should be more surprised that Jin Guangyao seems to like the odd chill of him (perhaps some distant part of him is), but right now his thoughts are thoroughly stuck on the declaration of love so freely spilling out of Jin Guangyao's lips, and he smiles warm and bright through tears of relief.

They can say it. They do not have to hide these things, bury them beneath their endless intricacies (though he doubts those will go away, they'd been at it for so long it will be a habit by now, but the fact they just don't have to rely on them anymore is a weight off his shoulders).

They're free. After so long, they are finally free.

He kisses him, slow and deep, head angled just as Jin Guangyao demonstrated so he can lick the aftertaste of those words from his beloved's tongue. There's another intrusion below, a gentle prod into the tight heat, the coldness of his skin helping to ease away any pain the lubricant can't take care of.

"A-Yao," he whispers against his lips, "my husband, I love you too."

Any pain that accompanies the intrusion is minuscule compared to the shivery pleasure that overrides it, a combination of the delicious cold, the slick of Lan Xichen's finger, the beginnings of the stretch that, Jin Guangyao knows, is no where near comparable to what will follow--and, of course, the knowledge that the one doing this to him is Lan Xichen. For Jin Guangyao, there can be no sweeter intimacy than this.

It could, however, stand to be a bit rougher. (Just a little. Let him taste the knife's edge of discomfort without crossing that line; that's what he wants.)

With his mouth still occupied by Lan Xichen's diligent and exploratory kisses, Jin Guangyao reaches a hand nimbly behind himself to slide his hand down the length of Lan Xichen's arm to find his wrist. Then, gently but with determination, he coaxes two more of Lan Xichen's fingers inside the heat of him along with the first. "You won't hurt me," he assures him in a breathless whisper, dark eyes fixed on Lan Xichen's. "Please."

Xichen shoots him a deeply skeptical look. He's tried this before on himself! (Then again, his fumbling attempts in his teenage years were probably not the best way of gauging A-Yao's pain levels.)

But he cannot resist that dark stare, drawn in by the depths of it, framed by long lashes that not moments ago had been tickling his cheeks and throat.

"If my husband is sure..." he hums, lips curling as he lets his fingers be guided. And then he slides them in, deep. The advantage of having the long slender fingers of of guqin master, it seems, is that he's not even buried in Jin Guangyao to the knuckle when he brushes against his prostate.

Unpacking Jin Guangyao's staggeringly high pain threshold (and evident enjoyment derived from testing its limits within the safety of Lan Xichen's arms) will have to be an experiment for another time. His reaction to that deep, penetrating press of three slick fingers is almost entirely one of pleasure.

"Oh, fuck--"

He's managed to touch himself in such a way once before, enough to make the insides of his legs tremble and to bring his cock to full hardness in staggeringly little time, but as slender and dextrous as his own fingers are, his reach is understandably limited. Jin Guangyao fists the bedsheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white, and fucks himself back onto Lan Xichen's hand; this position, him on top with his thighs spread around Lan Xichen's hips, is undoubtedly what he desires and prefers, but it taxes muscles he isn't accustomed to flexing in such a way. (He'll need to find new ways to condition himself going forward so they can enjoy this again. Because they have that now.)

He turns his face to kiss Lan Xichen's mouth, to murmur, "yes, Er-ge, like that," against his lips as he works himself loose and pliant and open on his fingers. He slides a hand between them to gently palm at Lan Xichen's cock, either to work him back to full hardness if his erection has flagged, or simply to tease him with touches that are far too light to satisfy.

Oh, fuck--

"Soon, love, soon," he assures A-Yao with a soft chuckle and a tender kiss to his forehead.

He doesn't have long to be smug, however, because the hot palm of Jin Guangyao's hand has him arching suddenly into his touch, dragging a moan from his throat. And if his sudden movement has jostled Jin Guangyao back onto his fingers which curl against his prostate in a way that may or may not be retaliation because oh, it's good, but so very not enough...? Well, who can say?

They're both masters of plausible deniability after all these years.

Oh, no, it is definitely enough--but Jin Guangyao is a stubborn creature, and given he has decided that he will not spend himself before Lan Xichen's cock is inside him, he will do what he must to make sure that is precisely what happens.

"Ah, stop--" He stills himself where he sits astride Lan Xichen's hips, limber body taut as a bowstring, not even breathing, and quickly moves his hand from Lan Xichen's cock to his own. His grip on himself is firm and precise, and the expression on his face as he toes the razor-thin line dividing pain and pleasure is exquisite; eyes tightly squeezed shut, jaw tight, his skin hot and flushed--but then he exhales, hard and shuddering, and looks down just to be sure. And yes, he's succeeded in postponing his release. (Clearly, this is not his first time doing this.)

Then he lifts his dark eyes to meet Lan Xichen's again and wets his lips. "Fuck me," he tells him softly, and allows the 'now' to go unspoken. He reaches for the tube of lubricant again and unstoppers it, dispenses a more than generous portion of it into his palm, and drops his hand back to Lan Xichen's cock to prepare him.

He watches Jin Guangyao seem to pinch off his approaching climax, and, ever the astute student, he makes a note to do that in the future when he feels too close to the edge. (It never mattered before - whenever he'd touched himself the whole point was to have it done and over with as quick as possible. But now... now he wants it to last.)

He's smiling up at him, warmth radiating from his beaming face despite the face the bed is now covered in a thin layer of frost.

"As my husband wishes."

His hands glide over Jin Guangyao's waist, to his hips first positioning him so he can line up his erection, then slowly, steadily guiding him down. The tip breaches him, and Xichen's thighs tremble at the slow, tender push into the tight heat of his love. Oh -- oh he could stay in here forever, if A-Yao let him.

(The frost coating the bedsheets is a problem for them to address once they have had their fill of each other--in other words, not now.)

Sinking down onto Lan Xichen's cock, Jin Guangyao makes a low, shuddering sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and cannot take his eyes of of Lan Xichen's face. His eidetic recollection of the past has been a curse as much as it has been a blessing throughout his life, but this moment he wants to commit to the most sacred annals of his memory, to revisit both the burning stretch of being penetrated, as well as the love that abides in Lan Xichen's eyes. Jin Guangyao grips the headboard for balance and support, letting it bear his weight as, in slow, gradual movements, he raises himself up with his thighs, then eases himself down again.

"Oh," he breathes, eyelashes fluttering, and, "oh," again with each careful downward grind of his body, until he is at last fully seated in the cradle of Lan Xichen's hips, flush against him down to their most intimate parts. The sheer size of his lover inside him has him flushed and struggling to catch his breath, the pupils of his already dark brown eyes blown wide from the overwhelming sensation of being so full. Jin Guangyao at last lets go of the headboard and moves his hands to frame Lan Xichen's face again; in his lap, his hips rock forward involuntarily, muscles clenching around Lan Xichen's cock.

"Did you ever think about us, like this? Before?" He whispers the question as though asking it at all is like tasting something forbidden, but now that they are joined together like this, he can't help himself; he wants to know, needs to know, that he wasn't the only one driven to the point of distraction on those occasions when they were alone in each other's company, and it would have been easy, so easy, to reach out and--

Jin Guangyao draws Lan Xichen closer so that he can curl both arms around his shoulders and press their bare chests together, and rest his forehead against Lan Xichen's as he rides him. Now that he's asked the first thing, the next one seems impossible to hold back, and so he doesn't. He wets his lips before asking, "Did Er-ge think about taking his A-Yao like this? Or," a pause, while his mouth finds the angle of his jaw just above his pulse point, and he grazes his teeth across it, "did you want to have me on my back in your bed? Tell me," he pleads, "tell me, I want to know." There are no wrong answers here; Jin Guangyao clearly just wants to goad Lan Xichen into voicing his fantasies, to further fuel the fire of their lovemaking.

Lan Xichen's breathing is slow, but laboured -- a sure sign that his iron clad control is hanging on by a thread as his hips keep a steady pace with Jin Guangyao's. (He knows now, there will be a time and place to be fast and rough - he saw how his beloved seemed to enjoy walking that knife's edge of pleasure and pain, and he will gladly walk it with him once he learns the steps to that dance. But this, here, now, they will never have another first time together, and he wants it to last, so that when the memory grows old and faded, it will still linger in his heart, like the stain of a pressed flower lingers between the pages of a treasured book, long after that spring has come and gone.)

"I thought about you," he says, head tipped back to give Jin Guangyao better access, his pulse hammering in his throat. "I dreamed about you -- "

And he gives a firm buck of his hips, fingers buried in the meat of his beloved A-Yao's shapely rear.

"-- having me on my knees, taking you in my mouth --"

He's outright panting now as he thrusts deep, sending a refreshing wave of energy right into Jin Guangyao's lower dantian.

"-- fucking me into our bed --" Ah, ah, too close-! But drags Jin Guangyao into a hungry kiss anyway, pulling back with that sly smirk of his, eyes gleaming with affection.

"--until the only thing I knew was your name."

Edited 2023-01-24 04:39 (UTC)

He was never going to last long after forstalling his orgasm once already, and the sudden burst of spiritual power flooding his meridians in conjunction with that hard, penetrating thrust is nearly enough to send him over the edge; he'd wondered, on those few occasions when he'd allowed himself to indulge in fantasies about having Lan Xichen in his bed, what it might feel like to dual cultivate with him, but though he has had occasion to experience the sensation of receiving Lan Xichen's qi in the past, nothing could compare to this intimate sharing. Jin Guangyao makes a sound like a choked moan and drops a hand suddenly to clutch at Lan Xichen's wrist, his fingers seeking out his pulse point to create a closed circuit of energy. (He knows that nothing he could ever pour back into the peerless Zewu-jun could ever compare to his Er-ge's own exquisite qi, but he shares it anyway. Anything he could part with, he would part with gladly for the man beneath him.)

"...until the only thing I knew was your name--"

"Xichen--" Jin Guangyao doesn't have time to warn him beyond that weak, choked gasp of his name into his ear, before he spills himself between their stomachs, untouched beyond the slide of his cock against Lan Xichen's skin. Each pulsing wave of pleasure has his hips stuttering forward, rough and uncoordinated, until he's spent himself to completion, but he doesn't give Lan Xichen the chance to slow down. "Don't stop," he breathes into his ear, his voice as low and raw as the rest of his body is limber and pliant in Lan Xichen's arms, and buries one hand in his ink-black hair. "Don't stop--fuck me like you want me to fuck you, Er-ge, show me."

He feels the pulse of Jin Guangyao's qi, like warm sunlight filling his spiritual veins, (and he would very happily argue that A-Yao's qi feels nothing short of perfect, nearly enough to push him over the edge), and then the heat of his climax spilling across his stomach and Lan Xichen is close, so close, he's about to warn his beloved and --

Don't stop--fuck me like you want me to fuck you, Er-ge, show me.

...Well. When A-Yao puts it like that...

He musters whatever will he has left that's still dangling by a thread, and holds off his own orgasm a little longer to pin Jin Guangyao into the nest of cushions, kissing him deeply, hungrily. His thrusts are slow but firm, the long drag of his cock and then hitting his target in a way that makes it clear he is a superb archer.

It doesn't last long - his thighs tremble, his hips stutter, and he cries out against Jin Guangyao's lips as he spills his icy spend deep inside of him with another powerful pulse of qi.

He has the good sense to collapse next to Jin Guangyao, rather than on top of him, pressing a flurry of kisses along his mouth, his chin, his jaw and throat.

"A-Yao --"

There is no other man in the cultivation world, or in any other iteration of it across any universe, who Jin Guangyao would allow to take him like this: beneath them, on his back or otherwise, legs spread and his control utterly surrendered. With anyone else, such a thing veers too closely towards realizing every wretched thing ever muttered about him when his back was turned, about what Jin Guangshan's genteel and delicate-looking whoreson bastard must have done to secure his place first as Chifeng-zun's deputy, and then within the Lanling Jin. (He'd have come by the trade naturally, after all, wouldn't he?)

With Lan Xichen, the act feels sacred, as though he should make prayers and burn offerings before an altar--once he can bear to separate himself from his peerless sworn brother's arms. With Lan Xichen atop him, between his legs, shuddering and spilling cold inside him, surrendering doesn't feel like submission or a violation; it feels like freedom, and an invitation. To taste for himself something that Lan Xichen desires, and that only Jin Guangyao can give him in return.

"I'm here. Er-ge--" Breathless and slick with sweat (and other things; his seed is a mess on his stomach, and already he can feel Lan Xichen's release as a cold trickle from between his thighs) Jin Guangyao rolls onto his side and gathers Lan Xichen into his arms, drawing him into another kiss. This one is slower than those they shared at the height of their passion, but no less intimate for it, and Jin Guangyao only draws back to rest their foreheads together when his lungs burn demanding air. Then, unable to stop himself, he smiles a little, his eyes bright.

"Lan Xichen," he says, for no purpose other than to speak the name aloud, and strokes the backs of his fingers along his cheek. (translation: he loves you, er-ge.)

Their bond had always mystified outsiders - no two cultivators should have been more at odds (given their upbringings) than them, and yet where most would expect a sort of chilly cordiality, instead it was a mutual affection that had blossomed between them. From the day Jin Guangyao had saved him, Lan Xichen had always sought his council, his confidence, his company above all others. Even after everything, he cannot bring himself to regret it. Well, except that bit at the very end.

But Jin Guangyao is real and solid, and Xichen is pressing kisses to his warm lips, and when he pulls away for air, it is a reminder that he is alive and safe.

He strokes his beloved's hair, his smile fond and eyes bright as he leans his head into Jin Guangyao's touch, words that aren't any variation of 'A-Yao' failing him at present.

(It would seem, at least, a part of what had been the rare indulgence into fantasy he'd allowed himself had come to pass.)

Eventually the endearment becomes an outright 'I love you', and Xichen says it just because he can. They had both always known, and had always found little ways to show it, but the simple joy of being able to speak the words, not couched in allegory, or with the caveat of brotherhood, is a miracle to Xichen.

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