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[baiyueguang]

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[baiyueguang]

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."

[poorlittlesange]

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."

[baiyueguang]

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 --"

[poorlittlesange]

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.)

[baiyueguang]

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.