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It could have been worse.

The statement, despite being true, doesn't fill Guangyao with any sense of relief. If anything, it's annoying. Of cours eh didn't want to die, but to have even that taken away from him at the end, stripped of rank, title, any distinguishing mark of who he once was? He might as well have been dead.

No cinnabar mark dotted his brow. No scholar's hat on his head. No robes of gold and cream.

Instead it was replaced with...plainness, though one would struggle to describe Guangyao's face as plain even now. White robes, an unadorned home. The area was breathtakingly beautiful, of course, as the land of the Gusu Lan Sect usually are.

But there is nothing.

Oh there's birds and animals that wander by. There are servants who come to tidy the place, but none dare to speak to him. They're smart to refrain from doing so, Guangyao will reluctantly admit, but it's annoying all the same. He finds himself more and more looking anxiously and eagerly for Xichen's visits, needing something to break up the monotony.

So he paces, hands clasped behind his back, making sure his steps are measured and slow so as not to be mistaken for the agitation and impatience that it was. Her shoulder still ached from the scarred wound from Wangji's blade very nearly cleaving it from him; it had been close, sure, but Gusu's healers were famed for a reason. Just another tally on the list of things he owes Xichen for saving him from.

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He can't look away even if he wants to, mouth slightly parted as he pants, eyes hazy. The tight hold on his hair makes him shiver--and it's not the revulsion he would've thought he'd have at being physically manipulated like this. Maybe because it's Xichen and Guangyao can't feel like he's being belittled or being made to play the whore just because of his parentage.

It's true that thinking gets him in trouble, but the control he feels slipping through his fingers makes him feel panicked. "I- I do!" He rocks his hips forward into Xichen's hand, his face burning red at the thought of just giving in to these base desires. But feeling the heat of Xichen's hand through the fabric isn't enough. "Please. I'm..."

He's scared, he realizes, and it's almost infuriating. He clings to Xichen's robes and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "If I don't get this, I'll absolutely die. I need you. But it's--A lot. My head is swimming." He doesn't feel articulate anymore, the words fumbling through his kiss-swollen lips even as he continues to rock into Xichen's hand.

He finds it hard to trust that Jin Guangyao is genuinely flustered even when everything in Xichen tells him it's true. He's certainly babbling a lot compared to the careful way he usually speaks, and he looks uncomfortable despite his body reacting ...

Taking control of the whole affair and yet remaining distant might not work, Xichen realises, because he can't indulge either of them when he senses discomfort in a partner. His hands slide to the safety of Jin Guangyao's waist where they pet a few times to reinforce the fact they're nowhere that makes it hard for him to think, and he glances between those soft, alluring lips and anxious eyes to try and get a read on him. There's definite lust there, just not an ability to control it ... and Jin Guangyao isn't a virgin, Xichen has reasoned. Or maybe he is when paired with a man; how would Xichen even know?

The strangest memory of being embraced by Nie Mingjue floats into the back of his mind unbidden, only a year after his ascension to sect leader. Da-ge had been so clear about his attraction and it had been a lively romance for many years whenever they got the chance to spend time together, the burning brand of a mouth roaming down Xichen's neck is still so clear that he shivers and tightens his grip on Jin Guangyao's waist. Da-ge had been so patient and kind ...

And yet, all those youthful trysts between sworn brothers had seemed like nothing compared to what Xichen had later felt for Jin Guangyao.

He leans in to rest his forehead in the curve of a neck, not wanting to think of anything but the present. A soft kiss meets a pulse as he eases the amorous rhythm to more of a slow-burn build, taking his time. Stupidly, perhaps, giving Jin Guangyao the time he needs to think.

"Breathe."

Guangyao had always been a pragmatic man. He’d skirted the edge of propriety to get where he could in his younger years, but avoided scandal wherever he could. Eyes always on a bigger prize, painfully aware of the accusations on peoples’ tongues that were just waiting for an excuse to start wagging.

His first and his only had been Qin Su. He hadn’t touched or been touched since that fateful day and it was overwhelming. It was embarrassing.

He shivers and takes a breath, exhaling slowly, the embarrassed shame welling up in his chest. “I… Thank you,” he whispers, clinging to Xichen and closing his eyes a moment. Breathe.

Things between them will never be as it once was, but the care he’s shown still makes his heart ache. There is still something there between them, shattered and fragile and painful as a bruise. It’s dizzying how much relief the idea brings him.

Guangyao reaches up, sliding his hands against Xichen’s body, taking a breath and shakily exhaling with a soft laugh. “I was overwhelmed. I didn’t—“ He hesitates, embarrassed again, but he’s— he’s trying. He’s trying to be more open and honest, for Xichen’s sake if nothing else. “I didn’t… dislike it. It was nice, to not be able to think, just overwhelming.”

He’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure at this point, talking through the processing of it out loud. “My minds never been empty and quiet before.” His hands wander, his hardness impatiently reminding him of what he was putting off as his hips twitch forward without hm even thinking about it, a soft groan coming from Guangyao’s throat.

"If you ask to stop, we will stop. It doesn't matter when."

He has no interest in being played for a fool in this, or having it later insinuated he did something that was unwanted; he can't go back to hating himself or a second seclusion, it would simply exacerbate his will to be here at all. So, he protects himself by being very clear, raising his head to lock eyes.

"Don't pretend during any part of this, a-Yao."

And then, taking a breath as he feels the other man rock in, he kisses him softly the way he once wanted to each time he would see sunshine-yellow robes fluttering by, tilting his chin with a gentle touch to guide him. The way Xichen licks into his mouth this time is sensual but insistent, letting a low moan pour into it as he teaches him how to kiss and breathe at the same time.

Edited 2023-07-16 10:47 (UTC)

He nods in understanding, knowing in his heart that Xichen means it. He won’t force Guangyao and if, in turn, requires Guangyao to be honest. It’s a relief, honestly, and he relaxes completely in Xichen’s lap, giving himself over completely.

He opens his mouth to the kiss, feeling overwhelmed again, but in a good way. The steady pressure makes him moan, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Xichen’s shoulders. He rocks his hips again, shivering as he slides against Xichen’s hardness.

The kiss is hot and wet and Guangyao feels himself growing dizzy again. When Guangyao can finally disengage long enough to speak, he asks with his tone like a plead, “please, you can touch me more now.”

This shattered love between them has echoes of how long-lasting it could have been in all the small, unnecessary ways he lavishes attention on Jin Guangyao. When granted permission to touch again, he brushes off the other man's sleeves and brings his arm in, kissing the tender skin inside an elbow, trailing his lips to a wrist where he plants another linger kiss. He does this on both arms before resettling them over his shoulders and mouthing his way down a bared chest, slow and insistent in the way he laves a path down to a nipple and sucks there at his unhurried leisure to see how hard he can make that rosy bud between tongue and teeth.

That final layer of clothes is swept aside and he runs the backs of his knuckles down Jin Guangyao's cock, feather-light, without yet taking hold of him again. He wants him sensitive and yearning, overwhelmed as much as he can take.

“Oh.”

The tenderness of it all, the ideas of ‘what could have been’ resound with each kiss, with each gentle touch. Tears well up unbidden in his eyes and he takes a shaky breath, an ache settling sharply in his chest.

He could’ve had it all, once.

A gasp is torn from his throat, strangled as he attaches his back, head thrown back to look up at the ceiling. It’s like little electric shocks running through his body straight to his cock, followed by another gasping moan at the touches against it. Too light to make him come from this alone, but too much to ignore. He rocks his hips more insistently, lowering his head to look at Xichen once more with little gasping breaths.

“Xichen,” he pleads, a hint of a whine. His cock twitches as he can feel the heat rising and settling in his lower stomach. Everything feels too warm now, and he hastily pulls his own robes with the intent of tossing them away to leave himself completely bare to Xichen.

Edited (Fucking html ) 2023-07-16 13:47 (UTC)

Jin Guangyao is so incredibly reactive to everything, it has Xichen focusing solely on his moans and whines until the rest of the room fades away. It doesn't matter to him whether they are fully naked or not, only that he has free reign to touch him wherever he wants.

He brings up two fingers to tap at those pretty lips, seeking to push them inside.

"Suck," he softly orders, buffing kisses along Jin Guangyao's cheek. "Be good for me, a-Yao, and get them wet."

He watches Xichen with half-lidded eyes, a shudder running through him at Xichen's order. His cock gives a twitch of interest. Why had Guangyao thought, once upon a time, that he would have to be the one leading everything?

He opens his mouth obediently to take Xichen's fingers, sucking on them reverently. His tongue moves around each digit, his hands grasping at Xichen's arms. His face flushed and eyes glazed, he can't help but wonder the picture he must look.

Maybe he could etch it into his memory to draw for later too.

Jin Guangyao looks, in Xichen's opinion, utterly stunning. Sweet and deferential, not without his own desires driving him to comply, a true beauty. At least for now his a-Yao is open and honest, inviting him to hum approvingly and pull those needy hips forward for a grind against the clothed line of his own cock, still draped in blue fabric that he hasn't bothered disrobing of yet.

"Good, you're doing so well. That's my sweet a-Yao."

The tongue running under his fingers has his eyes darkening with lust, heavy-lidded and low as he stares at that beseeching expression. Xichen's voice is low and raw with want, nevertheless filling the humble home given to his guest. If anyone walked in the scene would be difficult to cover up, brazenly naked and sprawled on Xichen's lap as Jin Guangyao is.

He doesn't forget the other man's need for some form of control, however.

"I'm going to touch you with these fingers, make you come, then take you to bed to see if you can handle some more. Alright?"

The praise warms him right to his core, a gasp stifled around Xichen's fingers at the grind. His body feels like it's on fire, an ache between his legs growing nearly painful in its need.

No one would dare come up here, would they? For now it was just Guangyao and Xichen, the world narrowed to just them. And for once, Guangyao is satisfied with that.

His voice makes it hard to not pay attention, even if they weren't so close like this. Whenever Xichen speaks, Guangyao listens, his focus turning to him automatically. Guangyao just wasn't expecting such filthy things to flow so freely. His eyes widen, his body going tense as a shudder runs down his spine. He swallows around the fingers and nods his understanding and his acceptance, perhaps a touch too eagerly. Guangyao leans his head in to take Xichen's fingers deeper, closing his eyes to suck on them hard as if putting all his concentration on this.

"Good boy."

He doesn't know what inspires the praise, only that it's genuine and a-Yao will always be his boy, his young man with a shy smile who looked so lovely under the summer sunshine of Cloud Recesses. It doesn't matter if he hates him in part, he can never erase their beginnings or the years of good memories (even if they were false and foolhardy).

Xichen pulls his fingers free when that hard suck takes hold, breath hitching as he stills his own hips from sheer will-power. He rests their foreheads together so that he gets to see every reaction and trails his sticky fingers down Jin Guangyao's cock, wrapping around the base and stroking firmly to the tip where his wet palm rolls around the sensitive head, over and over, sinking back down with an experimental squeeze. Unhurried, all of it, sensual and bold like Xichen's interest as he gazes at Jin Guangyao all the while, memorising what he seems to like best.

He does have a fondness for rubbing his thumb over the slit, spreading around any precome.

Guangyao makes a noise of protest as Xichen pulls his fingers away, making as it to chase after them for a second before he remembers himself. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks, trying to focus and failing miserably as Xichen begins to touch him.

A curse gets strangled in his throat as he clutches at Xichen's arms, fingers digging in hard as his hips jerk. It feels too good, how was it even possible to feel this good? Or was it aided in the fact that it was Xichen touching him, like he'd longed for? How many times had he taken himself in hand and tried to imagine it was Xichen instead? It all pales to this, Guangyao's teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he fucks up into Xichen's hand.

"Xichen--" He moans, squeezing his eye shut and twitching every time Xichen's palm or thumb rubs over the slit of his cock. It's been far too long since he's indulged, desire alighting in his body like it hadn't in several long years.

It's not going to take long, truthfully. He'd be more embarrassed by that if it wasn't for the fact that Xichen was surely driving him out of his mind with each sure stroke of his hand.

"You really are beautiful, you know."

He can admit that much, kissing along a jaw as he continues to watch the way Jin Guangyao is taking being stroked. Making sure to move his fist a little faster than the pace of those needy hips, Xichen slides his other hand down the curve of a spine and rests his middle-finger between a pair of cheeks; just a light caress, a whisper of a promise.

Mouthing his way down a neck, he nips and hotly insists, "Huan. My name is Huan when you're spreading your legs for me, a-Yao."

Guangyao has always had an odd relation with his looks. Pretty, beautiful, even, to the point of looking more like a woman than a man at times, if people believing the statue of his mother shared his face instead. He wasn't disdainful of his looks, and he loved and was proud of his mother, but that didn't stop the association from being a poor one in the eyes of others. Pretty, they'd call him, and often it was meant as more of an insult.

It doesn't feel like an insult from Xichen, it never has. He feels tears burning at his eyes again and he shakes his head, either in protest or to try and clear it, who knows.

He can't keep control of his voice much longer, his pants and moans growing louder as Xichen learns all-too-well where every weakness is, how he can match Guangyao's body's needs perfectly. It's hard to believe this was real. He half-expects to wake, alone and cold and aching at any moment.

It doesn't happen, and he gazes at Xichen with wide, wet eyes full of awe and reverence. "Hu... Huan. Huan..." He practically chants the name as his rhythm falters, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back as he comes with a cry only moment later. He jerks his hips, trying to ride out the pleasure as tears slipped down his face, gasping for air. He feels drunk, reaching for Xichen, trying to pull him into another sloppy kiss. "A-Huan. My body is on fire. You're driving me insane."

Fever assails his veins as he watches Jin Guangyao toss his head and come hard for him, spilling a mess over Xichen's fist and painting his chest where the splatter lands. He doesn't mind, guides it even, so that when his lover is high on pleasure and kissing him so artlessly it's obvious when he swipes it off with his immaculate blue robes. Those, he loosens and drags away from his own hips, needing to feel skin on skin.

He hums into the hungry kisses, kneading at the curve of a pert ass to drag Jin Guangyao closer, the long hard line of Xichen's cock rutting between those cheeks over and over, bigger than his cute a-Yao who is still pink and plump after coming. Such a cute cock, Xichen thinks, putting his own strength into rocking up and simulating how they can fuck in the bed ... if they make it there.

His knees are starting to go numb on the mats but he's reluctant to stop grinding.

"A-Yao," breathier than usual, he nips at a lip. "A-Yao, feel what you do to me."

He wraps his arms around Xichen’s neck, moaning low at finally being able to feel skin against his own. He has no strength to protest even if he wanted to, pressing his face against the junction of neck and shoulder. He mouths at the skin there, rocking back against Xichen’s cock— and freezing.

“A-Huan is so big,” he murmurs against his throat, tentatively rubbing back against it, feeing the slide against his skin. “A-Huan is going to stretch me open so much. Will you make sure it fits?”

He knows, objectively, that he would have to stretch Jin Guangyao before they got anywhere near enough to fucking, but to hear him say it ...

"Yes."

He shivers as the other man rocks down, the hot words against Xichen's throat using his true name making him weak. He slides his hands underneath a pair of thighs, lifts him up and rises to his feet in a smooth move, easily able to carry Jin Guangyao across the room to the bed. There, he lays him down and covers him on hands and knees, half-dressed in blue silk that hangs off him like forgetful pieces of the sky.

He traces down Jin Guangyao's cheek, thumb brushing over a lower lip. Aroused and overwhelmed by emotions, he leans down for a light kiss.

"There was a time when I would have welcomed you to Cloud Recesses as my zhiji, with Gusu as your home. You would have been free to come and go, so long as you were always mine no matter where you were. I think of that daydream sometimes, knowing you are here. I think of how close things are ... to what I wanted."

And how irreparably different.

Guangyao makes a startled yelping noise he will deny making under pain of death and clings to Xichen as they move. The Lan strength is absolutely no joke, and he can't help but feel a little dazed as he's laid out on the bed.

He gazes up at Xichen, kissing him back with a slight smile, his expression adoring-- and shutters fast when Xichen speaks. He blinks back sudden tears, an ache in his chest as he looks away in shame.

"I was blind," he murmurs, despite knowing that even if he were to go back in time, he'd try to get to the top again all over again. He'd just be smarter about it, never make the same mistakes twice. "But I'm here, now. And I am yours', and always will be."

Getting to the top would have been easy, if the top was Gusu to Jin Guangyao. He would have had free reign under Xichen ... but they both know it would have chafed him to be second to anyone.

"Mine."

There's a question behind it, kissed along the exposed length of Jin Guangyao's throat as Xichen lowers himself to let his hard, hot cock be felt in the groove of a hip, dull pressure as he focuses instead on mouthing his way over a pulse. He never puts his own wants first, petting a hand along a smooth waist to soothe his lover.

"I should have made you mine years ago. All the times I wanted to kiss you, pull you aside and pin you to a wall in Jinlintai ..."

Guangyao arches and gasps, bending his knees to press against Xichen’s side, urging him on.

“A-Huan.” This is torture of an entirely different sort; despite the fact he’d just came moment before, the fire inside of him hasn’t abated. “I’m yours’ now, only yours’. You can kiss me any time you want, pin me down wherever, whenever.”

He can’t dream of denying that right now. He doesn’t want Xichen to ever stop touching him. His own hands wander, stroking over Xichen’s arms, his chest. He wants to map out every plane of his lover’s body, worried this will be the last time they’ll both get to indulge.

"Mmm ... I know."

Because none of it really matters anymore, it will never be as everlasting as it could have been, and all they have left are stolen fragments of an unfinished painting without faces.

He leans (reluctantly) outside the reach of those arms to find a nearby lamp and bring it closer, extinguishing it to pour out the oil over his fingers, the scent of sweet sap from the fragrant mountain trees filling the room. He locks eyes with Jin Guangyao, shedding the last of his clothes, and slides his sticky hand up a soft pale thigh to take his cock in-hand for a slow, tight stroke, then another, and another. Xichen enjoys the show of those narrow hips and slender waist where his other hand roams in idle appreciation.

"Look at you, spread out like it's our wedding night. So well-behaved and pretty."

His heart feels like it’ll pound out of his chest, eyes locked on Xichen and following his every move.

Guangyao can remember his harsh words the week before about playing the pet of Xichen’s wife. It had been a dig then, but now it makes his cock twitch in excitement and he inhaled sharply as Xichen’s fingers close around him. The pleasure is white-hot and almost painful, his hips jerking and his hands falling away to curl into the sheets.

“A-Huan, you’re teasing me too much! How am I supposed to endure this?” Guangyao whines, shaking and trying to keep his hips from jerking too much.

"Too much? No part of me is even inside you yet, a-Yao."

His expression softens, warm and reassuring as if looking at Jin Guangyao from across the room instead of from between his legs. Bringing one of those legs to rest over a shoulder, hooked at the knee, he slides his oil-warmed fingers lower past taut balls to rub at the inviting pink hole beneath, insistently bold in the way he massages the rim as if they do this every day.

"And you want that. Don't you?"

Another strangled curse as Guangyao tosses his head, pressing back against the bed. He feels impatient and wild, his limbs moving easily however Xichen wants him. There’s barely even a stretch at the way his leg hops over Xichen’s shoulder.

His face burns red; he’s fairly sure he’ll never get used to Xichen talking so filthily, even if this is comparatively tame. He presses back against the finger, mouth forming a pout.

“I want it. A-Huan, I want you inside so much. I want it to stretch me open, I want to never forget the shape of you.” His voice was breathless but nonetheless sincere in its pleading. Logically he knows this has to be taken at least somewhat slowly, but he wants it now, dammit!