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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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