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coal stockings for naughty boys

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Mo Ran is frankly surprised to find Chu Wan Ning in their bed before dinner. Lawyers are notorious for being absent from their own homes, even more so than businessmen like Mo Ran. Home before ten p.m. on a Friday night, instead of cramming for cases as much as humanly possible over the weekend in the office, is something Chu Wan Ning's never been.


There’s a slight commotion in the room right after Mo Ran opens the door, but Chu Wan Ning moves too fast for Mo Ran to tell what it’s exactly about – by the time Mo Ran gets his bearings, Chu Wan Ning is sitting primly upright on his own side of the bed, covers pulled up to his waist. Without a book in hand, or the tell-tale sign of bed hair after having been disturbed from a nap, Chu Wan Ning just looks suspicious sitting there with no reason, exacerbated by the obvious stiffness of his back he himself never realises is a big tell that he’s trying to hide something.


For a brief, irrational moment, a coarse voice in his head growls that Chu Wan Ning better not be hiding another man underneath their shared bed, before Mo Ran shoves it away. He’s secure in the knowledge that he’s the only one for Chu Wan Ning, just as Chu Wan Ning is the only one for him, because he knows, Chu Wan Ning loves him more than Mo Ran is ever capable of loving him back. More than anyone's ever capable of loving someone else.


And if Chu Wan Ning really had another man under the bed—well, Mo Ran has always staunchly believed that certain terms in a relationship can be negotiated for the benefit of all parties.


Though he really doesn’t want to share.


Endearingly, Chu Wan Ning is trying very hard to pretend that everything is absolutely normal, like Mo Ran didn't nearly catch him red-handed at something. Playing along, Mo Ran sets  his satchel down by the door and walks over to the bed, perching himself on the edge of the mattress so he can fit his lips to Chu Wan Ning’s in a long-overdue kiss.


Two weeks Mo Ran has gone since he last saw Chu Wan Ning in the flesh, the lawyer busy in his office with fortifying the arguments before the conclusion of the organisation’s latest case. Dark bags bruising the skin under his eyes sell Chu Wan Ning out on his lies that he’s been sleeping, and if he hasn’t had time to sleep, Mo Ran’s sure he hasn’t eaten anything much either. A nap before dinner, then, so Chu Wan Ning can at least get started on repaying his sleep debt while Mo Ran whips a feast up in the kitchen to celebrate Chu Wan Ning’s hard-won victory in court.


At the moment, however, he sets aside his plans to kiss Chu Wan Ning slow and deep, languorous as he eases Chu Wan Ning down to the bed. Mo Ran traces the tip of his tongue along the seam where teeth meets gum and gets a soft noise in return; slides his tongue along the roof of Chu Wan Ning’s mouth and is rewarded with an airy sigh through his nose.


Sex is great and all, but sometimes he misses the simplicity of fitting their mouths together, the ability to encode a fraction of what he feels in the glide of their tongues alongside each other, in the light imprint of his teeth on Chu Wan Ning’s bottom lip. There’s something nice about being lazy about this, technique secondary when neither party is feeling up to do anything fancy, the little spark of absolute comfort that Chu Wan Ning isn’t judging how little of an effort he’s putting into this in favour of enjoying the way they press up against each other.


Right now, chest to chest, they’re still too far apart. Mo Ran wants to tangle his legs with Chu Wan Ning’s so he can delude himself into thinking that he’s not allowed to leave the bed for a good while, his only missive in the next ten minutes or so reacquainting himself with Chu Wan Ning’s mouth and maybe his neck.


Creeping between them, his fingers close around the fringe of their soft duvet and tears it away from where it hinders him, throwing the bulk of it over to his side of the bed. Almost immediately, Chu Wan Ning jerks away, even as Mo Ran clambers over to settle astride over his outstretched legs.


Chu Wan Ning’s eyes are wide with something akin to horror, but Mo Ran misses it entirely.


He’s too busy staring at Chu Wan Ning’s legs.


Or more precisely, at what he’s wearing.


Forget what he said about kissing; sex, in this newly-discovered context, sounds like an extraordinary idea.




In Chu Wan Ning’s defence, he almost never comes home; how is he supposed to guess that Mo Ran, the CEO of a multinational corporation that spans three continents, gets off work this early in the evening?


Mei Hanxue assured him that Mo Ran would go crazy for it; torn between making Mo Ran happily horny and throwing them directly into the trash to save his own face, Chu Wan Ning reasoned that he should at least try them on to make sure it was nothing too embarrassing.


The maid outfit doesn't even warrant consideration, and the cat ears are far too weird—Chu Wan Ning is human, and Mo Ran doesn’t seem particularly interested in bestiality.


As for the remaining item lying on the brown paper packaging...


Men wear tights, Chu Wan Ning desperately tries to convince himself as he sits on the edge of their king-sized bed to slide the bunched-up fabric onto one foot. Actors need them, sportsmen wear them, it’s not that weird.


The acute difference between stockings and tights smacks him in the face once he glances at himself in the mirror.


Clearly meant for women intending on demonstrating their...assets, the stockings are tighter in some places and looser in others to accentuate the natural curves of the legs. Snugly woven, the black nylon, opaque, seems to absorb the light - completely covering up the skin underneath, faux-conservatively, unlike the sheer pantyhose Ye Wangxi sometimes wears when she has court. Somehow, Mei Hanxue managed to secure one in a size large enough to fit his long legs, the top welts resting halfway up his thighs.


Chu Wan Ning scrambles to take them off, but Mo Ran has to choose that moment, of all other possible moments in the day, to open the door.




“Where did you get this?” asks Mo Ran, finally. His eyes are still fixed downwards, scrutinising his legs like a dog laying eyes on a piece of meat.


“…Mei Hanxue stuffed them at me.”


In the package Mei Hanxue dumped into his arms actually contained another similar pair of stockings, except white. “Because you like wearing white so much,” Mei Hanxue said, even before Chu Wan Ning uncovered its cursed contents, and then actually had the gall to wink at Chu Wan Ning.


Mo Ran huffs. “He did say he was going to help me spice things up a little the last time I met him, despite me telling him to stay out of my sex life.”


“He said what.”


Mo Ran stops his mouth with his own, occupying it with better things to do. “Shh,” he murmurs, when he pulls away, hand hot where he’s placed it over the band of one stocking. “Not important right now.”


His other hand touches Chu Wan Ning’s cheek gently, thumb swiping over the dark bags under Chu Wan Ning’s eyes. “If you don’t eat or sleep enough, people will think I’m mistreating you. We should stop here, so you can rest for a while before dinner, or else I don’t think I can if we—!”


With the elbow looped around the back of Mo Ran’s neck, Chu Wan Ning yanks Mo Ran down to bite at his lips, enticing Mo Ran to deepen the wet slide of their mouths, before breaking for air. “I’m used to running on little sleep,” he defends, his paper-thin ploy of kissing before answering so that Mo Ran, riled up, has no way of refusing so easy to poke holes in, yet also too precious for Mo Ran to seriously do so.


“Doesn’t mean you should,” argues Mo Ran on autopilot, but already his own dick is misbehaving at the close proximity, starting to press heavy against the inside of his underwear at the feel of warm skin and at the scent rising off Chu Wan Ning’s nape. Two weeks is a long time without Chu Wan Ning in his arms, and Chu Wan Ning must be feeling the adversity of it as well, to forego sleep for this. To put on…


…He’s still processing it. His brain is currently residing in his dick, failing to reboot.


Chu Wan Ning must realise that he’s won the battle he hadn't realised he was fighting the moment Mo Ran drops his hips to rub the unmistakable bulge in his suit trousers against the sheer fabric along one slender thigh, humping it like a misbehaving puppy.


What else can Mo Ran do? He’s a simple man, and his boyfriend is sitting on his bed dressed like that, white shirttails brushing those dark elastic hems.


His hands are wandering underneath the draping shirt in search of smooth skin while Chu Wan Ning’s remain on his shoulders, twisting, crumpling the ironed lines of Mo Ran’s blue button-down.


“I—” Chu Wan Ning starts. “I wasn’t—”


Chu Wan Ning cuts himself off. He wasn’t doing it on purpose? As if anyone could accidentally put on stockings. He wasn’t doing anything? And imply that he walks around in stockings all the time? There’s no explanation he can give without digging himself into a deeper hole, and it's not even the kind he can bury himself in so he doesn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his stupid decision, ever.


“Yeah?” Mo Ran, distracted with unbuttoning Chu Wan Ning’s shirt, puts on a show of paying attention. “You weren’t what, baby?”


A true veteran of sexual affairs, Mo Ran unperturbedly keeps at pawing Chu Wan Ning’s clothes off even as he jerks away from him, flustered by the use of the pet name.


“Nothing,” he lies, tone sharp. “Just hurry up.”


Mo Ran smiles.


“Always so impatient,” he reminds Chu Wan Ning, fond, slipping his tongue into Chu Wan Ning’s mouth to stopper the expected flare of “Who are you calling impatient?!” in the barrel of his throat. It’s like a splash of water on a powder keg; by the time Mo Ran pulls away, dropping Chu Wan Ning’s undershirt to join the pile of his dress shirt and briefs on the floor by the bed, no words come out of his parted lips.


Mo Ran lays him down on the pillows, to better map his path down the column of his neck, the valley between his collarbones, down to his flat, nearly sunken stomach, the fragile-looking ridge of his hip. The body Mo Ran has missed over the past fourteen days and nights, thought of while touching himself on the other side of this bed, replaying every one of their greatest late-night hits across the movie screen of his own mind.


This battered body, much unlike the filled-out, muscular one he recalls under him in his dreams, but still beautiful all the same.


In this lifetime, Chu Wan Ning lifts his arms to block his face from view not only for the sake of his face, but also because of the scars across them; in this lifetime, Mo Ran laces their fingers together and draws his arms away to capture his willing lips, but doesn’t touch the fierce gashes. Chu Wan Ning hates his own vulnerability, and Mo Ran doesn’t want to remind him of those years on the streets, where each day spent alive was simply luck that he hadn’t caught the eye of any human traffickers.


Instead, he rears back onto his knees to grab a sock-clad ankle and a sock-clad knee, splaying Chu Wan Ning open in front of him. Naked but for the stockings, spread for his gaze.


Chu Wan Ning may have a thin face, but it takes a lot for him to actually blush, his dignity and willpower strong enough to suppress most subconscious reaction. The same goes for sex, as well; in the first stages of foreplay, like now, a light sheen of pink surfaces on his ears but nowhere else, the rest of his jade skin white as moonlight and perfectly unmarred from weeks of inactivity. Black hems halfway up his thighs trick the mind into cordoning off the rest of his legs on first glance, drawing the eye to his flushed cock curving upwards between his legs, nestled in the dark hair of the crotch, desperate for attention.


Mo Ran’s thumb, rough on the nylon, rubs along the delicate sole of Chu Wan Ning’s foot.


Lured in by the lovely silhouette, the contours all wrapped up like a present, he can’t stop himself from turning his head to press his lips to the high black-clad arch, letting them linger as he drags his mouth over the curvature of it. The toes curl at the light brush, like the shy leaves of a mimosa plant furling on contact, and Mo Ran’s thumb sweeps up to massage the tight ball of his foot, getting him to relax.


Shifting his lips down, Mo Rail trails his mouth over the jut of ankle bone, the tendon that connects foot to calf, down to the swell of calf muscle, then to the back and side of his knee. Chu Wan Ning’s legs look perfect in the stockings, long and smooth, but he can feel the difference when he lays reverent fingers on them; the scratch of his leg hair prickles when he strokes counter to the direction they lie in, and it’s obvious that Chu Wan Ning is not eating enough with how knobbly his knees still are.


Very distinctly masculine legs, bony but solid, of a broad-shouldered, flat-chested masculine body, but painted with a slight feminine lustre with those stockings – just how Mo Ran likes it. Mei Hanxue may be an interfering busybody, but Mo Ran can’t deny that he’s the one benefiting from it.


He puffs a breath across the silk surface of Chu Wan Ning’s inner thigh, earning himself a reflexive twitch of muscle, before continuing his journey all the way down to the crease where thigh meets hip. Chu Wan Ning makes a small slip of noise when Mo Ran ignores his cock in favour of scraping his teeth along the red imprint left by his briefs, his hands sinking into Mo Ran’s hair as tongue follows in the wake of his teeth.


At long last, Chu Wan Ning moans, low and bitten-off, as Mo Ran nips down the fleshy inside of his thighs, gifting red marks where he seals his mouth over each brief hurt to suck. Hooking his fingers into the hem of the left stocking, Mo Ran rolls it down to the knee to grant himself access to the greater expanse of skin, so that he can worship the softness there and leave proof of his devotion. The other stocking he rolls down, too, but after deeming the thigh sufficiently marked, Mo Ran pinches the hem to pull it back up.


And then he releases it.


The elastic band stretched a few centimetres from the skin closes the distance in a split-second, twanging hard on the bruises sucked into Chu Wan Ning’s thigh.


Ah,” jolts out of Chu Wan Ning, yanked out of him by the sharp stinging pleasure. Mo Ran does it again, and again, until the area where the band rests is flushed an angry red. Chu Wan Ning’s cock is wet enough that Mo Ran can smell it, a salty musk that sets his mouth watering.


Mo Ran is so hard, he could cut through steel.


Rescinding his hands from Chu Wan Ning, Mo Ran delves into the bedside drawer for the container of lube, unscrewing the cap and dipping his fingers in as he positions himself between Chu Wan Ning’s open legs. It’s been two weeks, so Mo Ran will have to go slow; slicking his fingers up liberally, he drizzles some of the lube onto Chu Wan Ning’s hole, spreading it around until the skin shines with it. It’s cold, and Chu Wan Ning squirms uncomfortably before Mo Ran warms it up with the heat of his own hand.


The first finger breaches the tight rim without effort, made easier by Mo Ran licking up the length of Chu Wan Ning’s cock, gathering salt and musk on his tongue. Chu Wan Ning relaxes further as Mo Ran takes him entirely into his mouth, servicing him with his cheeks and tongue, allowing Mo Ran to fit two, then three, his body falling back on muscle memory as he accepts Mo Ran’s fingers. He releases Chu Wan Ning’s dick right before pleasure starts to push him over the edge, concentrating on working his fingers to get Chu Wan Ning loose enough to take his cock, stealing a few licks here and there around his hand just to hear his scandalised hissing.


Withdrawing his fingers, Mo Ran fits his shoulders in the backs of Chu Wan Ning’s knees to loom over him, unzipping himself and pushing in. The slick warmth inside engulfs him like liquid honey, sweet as it comes up to greet him. The elegant wing of Chu Wan Ning’s collarbone collects his groan as he sinks in to the base, present pleasure heightened by the small moan Chu Wan Ning gives at the feeling of fullness.


“How is it?” Mo Ran asks, placing a broad palm over Chu Wan Ning’s stomach, the centre of his unbroken fate line resting perfectly on the small bulge below the bellybutton, feeling the skin distended by his dick deep inside. Applying a little pressure on it makes Chu Wan Ning clench up tight, the silk of his muscles wrapping lovingly around his entire length, squeezing.


The knot of Mo Ran’s throat bobs, his appetite whetted.


“You try taking my place and tell me how it is,” Chu Wan Ning snaps, a vice grip around Mo Ran’s wrist, trying to yank his palm off where it rests on his stomach.


Sweat beads on his forehead, brow knitted in discomfort. Mo Ran holds still, hand covering the one Chu Wan Ning has curled into the discarded blankets, thumb rubbing slow circles into the soft skin.


“It’s fine,” Chu Wan Ning continues, sounding about as convincing as an oil tycoon denying his crimes against the environment.


Mo Ran ignores him, instead looking to the rise and fall of his chest for his cue. Chu Wan Ning doesn’t exactly frown when Mo Ran starts to move, but the skin on his temple tightens minutely, a silent sign for Mo Ran to gentle it even more. To distract him, Mo Ran smooths his palms up pale arms and over pale shoulders, absently rubbing at a knot of tense muscle, no doubt from falling asleep at his desk, until it unravels. Runs them up his sides, next, only to bite his own lip against the sudden contractions around his cock, nearly missing the tremors that run through the body underneath his.


“Ticklish?” Mo Ran asks, redundant, aware that his touch was a tad too light. “It’s okay, you can laugh.”


“No.” That’s it. No explanation, intentionally unclear on whether he’s ticklish or he’s not willing to laugh.


“Why not?”


Mo Ran bends at the waist and applies his mouth to Chu Wan Ning’s belly.


He blows a raspberry.


Chu Wan Ning jerks. Clenches around him again. Pushes his head away from his stomach, but Mo Ran blows another raspberry  before he goes, hooking an unguarded gasp of laughter out of him.


“Wan Ning should laugh more,” Mo Ran says, returning to give the spot a light peck. “It’s very nice to listen to. I like it a lot.”


He’s more relaxed now, giving Mo Ran more space to work with. Drawing back slightly, Mo Ran meets little resistance as he pushes back in, allowing him to set a languid pace. “I want to make Wan Ning laugh. I want to make him happy.”


Ears pink, Chu Wan Ning buries the side of his face into the pillow, arm coming up once more to block his visible cheek from sight. “You’re not allowed to talk,” comes strained. “Are you actually still five years old?”


Mo Ran smirks and snaps his hips in once, just missing where Chu Wan Ning’s most sensitive, his thick shaft gliding past the spot with only a hint of insufficient friction. “If I were five, could I do this?” Mo Ran asks, voice suddenly gone low and purring, repeating the motion. “Not to mention Lawyer Chu would be breaking the law.”


Not bothering to deign him with an answer, in case he accidentally jinxes himself by giving Mo Ran more inspiration, Chu Wan Ning falls silent. He reins in his breathing instead, keeping it regular as Mo Ran sucks hickies into his neck and shoulders, but it goes haywire the instant Mo Ran teases at his ear, scattering like confetti in the breeze.


It’s been a while since he was last touched like this, the tension of their dry spell shoved to the back of his mind by his one-track mind focused on work now coming to bite him, quite literally, in the ass. Above him, Mo Ran’s laborious breaths scald his cheek with every exhale, vaporous ardour fermenting in the combined heat of both their bodies. His ass must be red by now, with how Mo Ran is slamming into him, but all he can do is to dig his fingers into Mo Ran’s broad shoulders and hold on, clinching at his lifeline in the sea of pleasure.


Mo Ran hitches Chu Wan Ning’s legs higher from where they have slid down to his waist. He’s well-versed in the detailed study of Chu Wan Ning’s body; can unerringly place his fingers on each mole and freckle in the dark, all his measurements, chest, waist, hips, memorised. Able to predict the moment Chu Wan Ning starts to come, before the man himself realises it, by the slight narrowing of his eyes and sharp exhalations, a little like he’s on the verge of crying.


Planting his knees into the mattress, Mo Ran fucks him through his orgasm, only taming a little as Chu Wan Ning teeters on the verge of oversensitivity, but not by much.


Blunt nails rake down Mo Ran’s bicep in a wordless plea for him to ease off. Mo Ran stops halfway in, staying there to feel the dig of Chu Wan Ning’s fingers into his elbow, into his chest, trying to tug him closer. Chu Wan Ning’s nails are short, bitten so, the jagged triangles of keratin sharp in his flesh; for someone so deceptively skinny, his physical strength is no joke. Mo Ran can feel the threads of his own skin barely hanging on, before one potential last flex of those fingers punctures it right through.


Obediently, he bends down, but still doesn’t move below the waist.


“You want me to stop?” Mo Ran checks, knowing full well that Chu Wan Ning wants him to slow down, but not halt completely.


“…Move.” Of course, Chu Wan Ning knows he’s doing it on purpose.


“You’re okay, though?” Mo Ran lifts Chu Wan Ning’s hips slightly and wedges a pillow under them, in case the constant elevation without support causes his backbone to ache. “Doesn’t hurt anywhere?”


Chu Wan Ning kicks him in the side, but it glances off his bottom ribs without any pain. “Why are you asking so many questions!?”


That last exclamation goes mostly unheard, because he’s too mesmerised by the beautiful arc of Chu Wan Ning’s foot through the air, the bend and extension of his leg as he jabs his toes somewhat gently into the soft flesh below Mo Ran’s ribs.


Mo Ran moves, but he shifts backwards, slipping his cock out.


Despite Mo Ran’s best attempts at feeding him, Chu Wan Ning still has hints of the skeletal frame belonging to a starving man, from nearly two decades of malnutrition on the streets, and the subsequent years of forgetting that he has food now. His ribs, slightly protruding, helpfully point out to Mo Ran where he should slide his fingers to guide Chu Wan Ning into sitting up.


Large hand between his shoulderblades, strong arm wrapped around his waist, Mo Ran arranges them until he’s the one sitting with his back leaning against the headboard, Chu Wan Ning straddling him. His thick thighs force Chu Wan Ning’s knees wider apart to accommodate them, the half-split Chu Wan Ning perches in accentuating muscles pulled taut.


Raising himself up to hover over Mo Ran’s imposing dick, Chu Wan Ning wobbles with a post-orgasm unsteadiness, hands shooting out to rest on the chest in front of him to steady himself. Mo Ran supports him with a hand around the slender waist, his other hand skimming the shallow dip of his thigh, the ridge of tendon above it, then grips his own cock by the base for Chu Wan Ning to lower himself down on.


One of Chu Wan Ning’s hands unlatch itself from his chest, reaches behind himself to—oh, oh, spread his loosened hole to nestle the fat head of Mo Ran’s cock within it, right before he seats himself properly.


Judging by the killer look Chu Wan Ning is shooting him, thunder on his brow, he’s noticed Mo Ran staring, daring him to say something about this necessity born out of the sheer size of Mo Ran’s terrible dick.


Well, it’s a necessity, but it’s still terribly hot.


Wisely, Mo Ran shuts up and rests his hands on those hips that can slice through his palms, letting Chu Wan Ning dictate the pace, surrendering himself to whatever Chu Wan Ning chooses to dole out. At first, Chu Wan Ning rocks himself slowly, working his stimulated passage down from its high, chin to his chest so that Mo Ran can’t see his face.


It’s only when he starts to roll his hips, the arch of his back undulating, that Mo Ran slides his hands backwards to fill his empty palms with that round ass, kneading hard as Chu Wan Ning takes him in deep with each resounding slap of their flesh. Harsh breaths whistle out from between his teeth, in time with the rhythm he sets, on the verge of losing control like he’s using Mo Ran for his own pleasure, trying to reach his next high.


Mo Ran’s hands fall to Chu Wan Ning’s legs, feeling the robust flex of corded muscle underneath the skin, shifting with each contraction and release as Chu Wan Ning rides him. Like this, Chu Wan Ning has his shins and the tops of his feet pressed flat against the mattress, the nylon clinging to the streamlined shape of his calves and the round heels of his feet, inviting Mo Ran to run his fingers over them to measure the geometry of his body for himself.


Chu Wan Ning leans his weight on his hands, braced on Mo Ran’s chest, the minute circling of his hips grinding that spot deep inside him on the head of Mo Ran’s cock. Little “ah, ah”s fall from his lips, so precious that Mo Ran wants to hoard them, guard them as a dragon sleeps curled around its pile of gold.


Breathless, Chu Wan Ning snaps his head up, only for his gaze to stumble across Mo Ran’s. His narrow eyes widen, and he whips his head in the other direction, panting into his own shoulder, too ashamed to look at Mo Ran.


Normally, Mo Ran would coax him back by baiting him with a kiss or two, but today the movement exposes his flushed earlobe to him, red like dripping blood. The first flick of his tongue already sets Chu Wan Ning shivering, his panting becoming desperate gasps as Mo Ran rubs his teeth and tongue against it, alternating between sharp serration and wet salve.


Chu Wan Ning is close. Mo Ran fists his hand tight around Chu Wan Ning and pumps, until Chu Wan Ning tightens all around him and moans his name, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Unheeding of the mess between them, Mo Ran gathers a malleable Chu Wan Ning up into his arms, letting them stick all along their fronts. Chu Wan Ning’s cheek is resting on his shoulder; Mo Ran wipes a hand on a clean part of the bedsheet before carding his fingers through his hair, lightly pressing his forehead into Mo Ran’s neck to ensure that his head doesn’t get jostled around too much.


A low hum of discomfort rises from Chu Wan Ning as Mo Ran tucks his legs underneath himself, kneeling to support Chu Wan Ning's entire weight in his arms. Adjusting his hold, Mo Ran bears him down to the bed onto his back, letting him melt back into the sheets while he does the work. The glance Chu Wan Ning sneaks at his biceps and forearms bulging with the exertion of hauling his pliant body around doesn't go unnoticed; the next time Chu Wan Ning's eyes hit the same shifty angle, Mo Ran flexes his shoulders and arms from where he's propped up above Chu Wan Ning in a plank, to savour the poorly-disguised appreciation in them.


And to watch them, the narrow lines of those eyes uplifted at the corners, grow circular as he drives hard into him, drink in the reactions of the bolt of shock and sensation from screaming, overtaxed nerves that hits Chu Wan Ning. The bed creaks ominously from the force of Mo Ran's thrusts, and Chu Wan Ning's legs fall open around his waist, too weak to encircle him.


His last few thrusts are vicious, Chu Wan Ning folded into half by shoving his knees to his shoulders, plundering his tight body for his own pleasure. Mo Ran finishes inside him, making sure to drive in to the deepest, spurting onto where Chu Wan Ning is most sensitive inside, where it makes his low moans modulate higher in pitch until he’s keening, mewling at the feel of Mo Ran’s abundant seed painting his walls. His toes curling, lips parted, cheeks red, shame fleeing in the face of hedonism.


An answering flush of satisfaction blooms in Mo Ran at the sight, at knowing Chu Wan Ning enjoys himself, loses his mind at how good Mo Ran makes him feel. When he forgets about all his obligations except for one, his world narrowed down to their intermingled smell twining with the stench of sex, the colours of their skin flushed with exertion, and the lewd noises of their lovemaking.


Foregoing a break, Mo Ran pulls out and immediately flips Chu Wan Ning over onto his stomach.


Feathering his fingers down the curve of Chu Wan Ning’s spine, serpentine with scoliosis, Mo Ran follows the path with his lips, grazing the long ridge of bone slightly raised to the left. His touch, light, stands at odds with the rough treatment mere moments ago, the instant disparity firing up the nerves underneath Chu Wan Ning’s skin in anticipation of more sensation, setting Chu Wan Ning trembling.


Mo Ran leans back to survey his handiwork.


With his hips up in the air, chest flat to the mattress, the black of the stockings are particularly stark against Chu Wan Ning’s milky pale thighs. Hands fisted in the bedsheets, face buried in the pillow, the puffy, abused rim of his hole between his reddened cheeks dribbling white down his thighs, his entire frame trembling – the wanton sight makes his dick hard again, blood rushing downwards so fast that it leaves him dizzy.


Good, that dark part of him growls. I’ve trained him so well that he just rolls over and waits to be fucked again, hm?


Mo Ran squeezes his eyes shut and shakes the thought out of his head, curling his hand around Chu Wan Ning’s knee to ground himself with the contact. That person, that spectre isn't him, that's not how he thinks of Wan Ning at all, Chu Wan Ning is his equal, his boyfriend, the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with, not some bedslave to service him-


Fuck off, he tells the apparition, caressing the patch of skin above Chu Wan Ning's knee, letting the repetitive motion calm himself down. This isn't about you.


The voice falls silent, but an uncharacteristic possessiveness surges within Mo Ran. All that smooth, pale skin in front of him, like blank paper beseeching Mo Ran to be painted with his colours.


Three fingers prove insufficient for the obscene gape of Chu Wan Ning’s hole, so Mo Ran adds his little pinky to the mix for Chu Wan Ning to clench around, plugging him up as Mo Ran bows to mark up the back of Chu Wan Ning’s thighs and his ass cheeks. The application of teeth drags a gasp out of Chu Wan Ning, the muscle jumping underneath as Mo Ran runs his canines over the formerly-unblemished skin.


Mo Ran lays a bite right on the curve of his ass, though not hard enough to draw blood, just to see what Chu Wan Ning will do.


For a slightly lacklustre moment, Chu Wan Ning has no reaction, until Mo Ran spies his limp cock stiffening, filling with blood, far sooner than he usually would. Delighted, Mo Ran runs a finger down the length of the twitching arousal, receiving a light warning slap on his forearm in return.


His deferentially retracted finger comes away wet and white, eyes falling to track the drip of his own cum along Chu Wan Ning’s cock onto the bedspread below.


The next thing he knows, he’s covered Chu Wan Ning with his own bulk, muscular chest flush against his back to pin him down onto the mattress. The tip of his heavy cock, snug between Chu Wan Ning’s legs, brushes the back of his balls, marking them with a sticky trail. Like the rest of him, Chu Wan Ning’s thighs are skinny, but corded with the sort of muscle gained from a childhood and adolescence of manual labour. Reaching down to push his knees together, the bare halves of those thighs instantly grip Mo Ran tight, trapping him where he exactly wants to be.


Lazy is the gentle rocking of their bodies, the calm in the wake of a storm easily disguising that ahead of another one. Mo Ran basks in the press of warm skin all along the length of their bodies, sticky with drying sweat, needing to be closer, as close as he can.


Inevitably, the wet mess of lubricant and come coating Chu Wan Ning’s lower half causes Mo Ran’s cock to slip and change angles, the round head bumping against the loose opening between his cheeks every couple thrusts. Every time it happens, Chu Wan Ning makes a little noise, surprised and maybe a little fearful, like he’s expecting it to plunge right in – Mo Ran could, with how it leaks and gapes, just slide in with his own release slicking the way, but he’s a greedy bastard gluttonous for more of those sounds from Chu Wan Ning.


“Stop that,” Chu Wan Ning gasps, on a particularly close thrust where the burning head of Mo Ran’s heavy cock catches on his rim, before it slips down the cleft of his ass to hide between his thighs. “Just—do it.”


“What does Wan Ning mean?” Mo Ran asks, all faux innocence, the temptation of toying with him too sweet to resist. “I am doing it.”


Chu Wan Ning twists slightly to glare at Mo Ran over his own shoulder. The corners of his eyes are slightly red, which renders it less like the frost of winter and more like a begging glance. “You know what I mean,” he hisses, the end of his sentence bitten off with the next pass of Mo Ran’s cock, missing his entrance yet again.


Biting his lip, he looks unfairly bullied, and Mo Ran’s heart caves.


After all, Chu Wan Ning should be rewarded tonight. For winning his case, but also for giving Mo Ran such a pleasant surprise.


Closing a hand around his cock, Mo Ran presses the fat head against the inviting hole, flush enough for Chu Wan Ning to feel the pressure and heat of it, but giving no actual relief. “Does Wan Ning mean he wants me to put it in?” Mo Ran asks, tone as innocuous as he can make it, contrary to how he’s wickedly rubbing his dick along the rim.


Then he waits to be scolded, stuffing himself in the instant Chu Wan Ning opens his mouth to reprimand, successfully fucking a startled moan out of him, unguarded in his surprise, before many more tumble out after it.


“Wan Ning,” Mo Ran purrs, alternating between long, deep strokes and quick, shallow thrusts depending on the kind of noises that Chu Wan Ning makes, “I really like your present. It suits you, so pretty and elegant.”


Across the slope of Chu Wan Ning’s back, Mo Ran sees him fumble for a pillow with clumsy hands, shoving his head underneath once he secures it, hands sinking into the soft cotton approximately around where his ears are. If Chu Wan Ning wasn’t on his front right now, but facing Mo Ran instead, that pillow would be hurtling at his head.


Undeterred, he sinks forward even more, the angle of his hips changing to drive even deeper, more powerfully into Chu Wan Ning, eliciting something that sounds suspiciously like a muffled whimper.


Slotting his fingers between the pillow and Chu Wan Ning’s hair, Mo Ran tugs perfunctorily at it, no intent to remove it if Chu Wan Ning really needs it right now. “Don’t, it’s hard to breathe like this,” he reminds, nevertheless, and Chu Wan Ning’s loosening grip lets him wrestle it from him and fling it out of reach.


Immediately, as soon as Chu Wan Ning can hear him, Mo Ran continues, “I bet you’ll look pretty in the rest of the outfit, too.”


Chu Wan Ning stiffens under him, no doubt surprised that Mo Ran guessed that the stockings didn’t come unaccompanied.


Mo Ran pinches his hip, before the same fingers come up to stutter against a nipple, toying with it. “What was it? Lingerie? A schoolgirl uniform?” Chu Wan Ning’s breath comes out in a whine. “Nah. Mei Hanxue knows I’ll be the one wearing the uniform.”


Amidst the onslaught of sensation, Chu Wan Ning just barely scrapes enough braincells together to form the thought: what the fuck.


“A maid costume? Whatever it is, Wan Ning will look good.”


It’s been a couple of hours, at least, Chu Wan Ning’s inner passage red and raw by now. Mo Ran runs a finger across his lip to prevent him from biting it through, luxuriating in the soft whines and whimpers whenever Mo Ran hits his prostrate dead on and drags along his overstimulated walls. Sweat drips down the lines of Mo Ran’s abs into the waiting dimples of Chu Wan Ning’s back, splattering with a light spray with each vigorous thrust he lurches with.


His stomach hurts. Clenching down on Mo Ran’s enormous dick is out of his control now, surrendered to his body’s reflexive motions, the ache washing over him. Fast building, cresting above the pain, is pleasure, as Mo Ran fucks in with machine-like precision, wrenching shameful sounds out of him – each time Mo Ran shoves in deep, his lips graze the sensitive curve of his ear, his touch so light that it barely qualifies as a kiss, but sends Chu Wan Ning shivering anyway.


Mo Ran switches to shallow pushes of his hips, withdrawing fully and entering partway, a temporary relief except for his mounting pleasure, the pressure suddenly gone where he needs it most.


He claws at the bedsheets, frustration channelled into his best attempt at ripping them before Mo Ran collects his wrists into one large hand and pulls his arms taut behind his back, restraining him effortlessly.


“Mo R—ah!”


Defenceless, he’s forced to take Mo Ran’s suddenly vicious thrusts, the mattress bouncing with how hard he's pounding into him, relentless on that spot inside him. A rough hand strips his neglected cock, ruthless and efficient, until Chu Wan Ning’s orgasm is wrested from him. Only a few clear drops fall pitifully from the tip, but his body wracks with shudders, the rest of the high flooding his limbs, the tips of his fingers and his toes tingling.


Mo Ran keeps going. It's too much for Chu Wan Ning; tears are forming at the corners of his eyes from the sensory overload, each forward lurch of his body dislodging them, tipping them over the edge of his waterline to roll down his cheeks, dripping down his jaw. His mouth moves uselessly, left open to let his hitching gasps escape.


It's hidden by the angle of his mouth, but Mo Ran knows that Chu Wan Ning is drooling into the pillow, wet spot forming under his cheek, and the knowledge's like throwing a forest into the wildfire of lust burning through his veins, making him pound harder and faster, close to breaking point. To have the disciplined Chu Wan Ning, who conducts himself in the highest standard known to mankind, who never lets anyone else see him with a single hair out of place, lose control over his faculties because of Mo Ran, to dirty himself and the bed like this - Mo Ran's suddenly right there on the brink, falling over into rapture below.


He yanks himself out almost ferociously, hand on his cock working himself to completion, spilling messily over the sweet peach of Chu Wan Ning’s ass.


A noise escapes Chu Wan Ning where his head is buried in the pillows, something between an alarmed indignation and a moan, at the warm sensation as the wet heat trickles along the curve of the round cheeks down to the back of his thighs, into the valley between them to mingle with Mo Ran’s previous release still dribbling from his fucked-out hole. His shoulders are shaking; a fourth orgasm wrung out of him, dry, leaving him half-coherent, collapsing onto the bed if it weren't for Mo Ran's singular hand under his stomach supporting all of his weight.


Like a man possessed, Mo Ran leans his chest closer to the edge of the mattress, gaze unmoving from the abused state of Chu Wan Ning’s flank. The fingers of his other hand skim the floor beside the bed, sliding his smartphone out of his abandoned trousers when he finally locates them.


He swipes his thumb up the screen once, and aims the camera lens at the erotic display in front of him, ensuring that the focus sharpens enough to capture the glistening cum translucent over the wine-red marks adorning the flesh of his inner thighs and ass, paying special attention to the hidden shadow of Chu Wan Ning’s cock hanging between his legs, and the spreading dark stain at the hem from a rivulet of white running down the tantalising length of half his right thigh to dirty it.


The heaving of Chu Wan Ning’s breath drowns out the near-silent click of the shutter as Mo Ran taps the button.


In the pit of his stomach, something gnaws at Mo Ran's conscience like it's trying to snap it into pieces, telling him to bury his phone in the blankets, to pretend that he was just admiring the view and not saving a copy of it for his own private use while Chu Wan Ning, oblivious, struggles to recover. To keep the transgression to himself and let the secret thrill of crossing a line into forbidden grounds run down his spine, purposely perverting what he knows is right through this act so taboo.




Mo Ran plasters himself over Chu Wan Ning’s back, careful to avoid sticking to him below the waist to preserve that painting for just a while longer.


“Wan Ning,” he pleads, syrupy-sweet, kissing the side of Chu Wan Ning’s lax cheek once, twice, three times, “I just took a picture of you like this, can I keep it?”


It’s almost astonishing how whip-quick Chu Wan Ning switches from utterly boneless exhaustion to high alert, his muscles bunching into tight lines all along Mo Ran’s own.


Mo Ran curls a comforting hand around his wrist and pecks him again on the face as reassurance.


Chu Wan Ning’s cheek withdraws from him like a retreat as he shakes his head best as he can against the pillow. From this angle, Mo Ran can only see the uncertain flutter of his dark eyelashes.


“Why…why would you want to take a picture…of that?” Chu Wan Ning’s voice is threaded through with shame, the same brand of fiery red that takes over the healthy flush of exertion and straight into boiled lobster territory.


Lacing their fingers together, Mo Ran leans down to press his nose into Chu Wan Ning’s nape, where the dark hair is shorn short. “For when we can’t be together, like these past two weeks—or month, actually—and there are times I miss you a lot more than usual,” Mo Ran says, pitching his voice low in the timbre that gets Chu Wan Ning hot. “So I can look at it then, and remember something nice.”


Chu Wan Ning’s had four orgasms by now. His breath still trembles anyway.


Gathering his fingers under Chu Wan Ning’s jaw, Mo Ran tilts Chu Wan Ning’s face towards his own more completely to unleash the full power of his puppy dog eyes. “If you really don’t want to, I'll delete it,” Mo Ran continues, the corner of his mouth pulled down enough to convey some small sense of disappointment at the hypothetical scenario, his most pathetic expression channelled in the direction of Chu Wan Ning’s averted eyes in case he ever decides to look up. “Your face isn’t in it, but even so, it’ll be for my eyes only. I promise I won’t let anyone else get their hands on it.”


Chu Wan Ning's eyeing his pillow hard enough to tell the thread count of the high quality cotton by sight alone in an effort to avoid Mo Ran’s gaze. Mo Ran sits back on his haunches and observes the light playing through the dark brown irises, as if his thoughts and considerations are discernible to Mo Ran in the pattern in which it shifts.


Most of it is shame, of course, but there's deliberation there too, with a whole lot of uncertainty.


Then at last, Chu Wan Ning turns his face completely away, but he mumbles, "...I trust you."


Mo Ran's heart explodes with fireworks, and it's not because he gets to keep the picture.


The bed is unsalvagable, they're both hopelessly sticky and his own clothes are already ruined, so Mo Ran has no qualms tackling Chu Wan Ning to the pillows in a hug, wrapping him up tight in his arms, his face in the crook of his neck.


“Thank you,” Mo Ran says sincerely, solemnly. “I’ll guard this more securely than I protect my corporate secrets.”


The huff of air Chu Wan Ning blows out of his nose as a substitute for laughter tickles the bare skin of Mo Ran’s neck, and tickles Mo Ran’s heart. “You’d better,” Chu Wan Ning replies, more deadpan than ever, to make up for his momentary slip of face. There’s nothing else left to say, not when Chu Wan Ning looks ready to doze off at any moment, an unintended but extremely welcome secondary goal of tonight’s session fulfilled as Chu Wan Ning’s slender back starts to rise and fall rhythmically slow partway through Mo Ran layering kisses over his face.


With one last press of his lips to Chu Wan Ning’s forehead, taking his own sweet time to remove them to ensure that he’s truly asleep, Mo Ran carefully extracts himself and leaves Chu Wan Ning in his slumber, heading to the bathroom to clean himself up, then run a bath. Chu Wan Ning doesn't wake at all throughout Mo Ran washing him, too exhausted to even move in his sleep - after making sure he's in no danger of slipping underwater, Mo Ran lets him soak in the tub while he changes everything on the bed, including the pillows.


It's unlikely that Chu Wan Ning wakes up before dawn breaks tomorrow after a night like this, so Mo Ran postpones his plans for dinner and crawls into bed with clean sheets and a clean boyfriend. He'll just have to wake up early tomorrow to make a full breakfast, of which Chu Wan Ning will probably consume more than half of, even if he doesn't read while eating—he enters that zone where he doesn't realise what he puts into his mouth when he has words to process—because Mo Ran's food is just that good.


Curling around Chu Wan Ning, he drifts off to sleep, happier than he feels in his dreams.