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strumming my pain with his fingers

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Jin Ling taps his fingers impatiently. His etiquette training snaps at him to quit it, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Uncle Jiang. Still, in his defense, this meeting is possibly the most pointless one this year. 

He knows why he's on edge, though. More so than usual.

Tonight, Lan Sizhui is coming to visit.

He's itching to spring up. Wonders what the look on their faces would be if he just slams the door behind him without a word. It's tempting, but of course, he's not going to do that. Not when their opinion of him is already one of grudging, borderline respect.

So, he stays, irritation spiking in him as one of the more uppity disciples opens their mouth to start spewing about some trivial issue.

He thinks he should've gotten Lan Yuan to teach him the silencing spell. His mind drifts to the last time Lan Yuan used said silencing spell. On him. 

While he'd railed Jin Ling hard in a little alcove as a couple of self-important ministers droned on about tariffs next door.

His thoughts zone in on how that strong arm had held him in a chokehold, tight and deliciously restricting. The way the other arm had anchored his waist right up to the warm body behind him and his toes had brushed the floor helplessly. The way he'd been speared wetly over and over on that hot, throbbing—


"What?" he snaps, glaring at the insolent fool for interrupting his thoughts.

"Could we impose penalty fines if the watchtower alerts turn out to be more trivial than reported?"

"Denied," he replies flatly. "The volume of requests is just adequate for your team, according to last quarter's reports."

"That was—"

"Also, what's trivial to you probably isn't to a non-cultivator. It's too subjective. That, and we haven't had anyone actually abuse the system. A preemptive measure, if unjustified, is just asking for needless tension. Most people are already hesitant to waste a cultivator's time with the absolutely fucktastic fees you lot charge them."

Mumbles fill the room. The disciple shrinks back, face rapidly turning purple. Everything Jin Ling says, he must justify to these idiots. He wishes he had Lan Yuan's patience. Still, experience dictated it best for his sanity to nip such proposals at the bud swiftly and forcefully. 

Feeling a headache coming on, he sighs.

"If there are no other issues, let's wrap this up."

When Jin Ling finishes for the day and returns to his chambers, the first thing he does is draw a bath.

The scent of peonies fills the air sultrily, a floral bouquet that stirs something inside him that's soft and toe-curling. He disrobes and sinks into the warm, fragrant water. Immediately, the tension in his muscles begins to soak away. 

He undoes his hair and gingerly stacks his ornaments in a pearl dish on the ledge. Unbound, his hair floats around him like a dark halo. He holds his breath and ducks under the water before emerging with a sigh and twisting his damp hair over one shoulder. 

Water ripples around his body as he scrubs himself with a washcloth in circular motions. The fabric brushes against the twin rosebuds on his chest, hitching his breath. Fuck, he's so pent up. He maps the fading splotches of violet-blues that trail like drops of watercolor on pale parchment. The marks begin from just under his collar—Lan Yuan likes leaving them just shy of being exposed. 

It's an immature, teenage thing. They aren't teenagers anymore, but Jin Ling reckons they've been forced to grow up early enough that they've earned the rights to a few silly habits. 

He's methodical yet patient, treating every inch of his body from his ankles to the tips of his hair with care. As he moves, water ebbs over his body, eddies forming in their wake. Lather floats on the water's surface like a ring of seafoam, a circle of clouds reminiscent of the Gusu Lan's abode. 

He's in the center of it all—a flower in mist, caught by the fairest disciple of this generation who he's ensnared in return. 

He drinks in the echoes of splashes as he rinses off. The sound is calming and smooths away the furrow between his brow like a siren's kiss. 

When he emerges, his body is soft and pliant, begging to be roughened by searing touches. He knows Lan Yuan will be unrestrained today, felt it in the heat of his elegant script in the letter now folded under his pillow. 

He slathers the finest oils on his body, paying attention to his chest, thighs, and bottom—as per the instructions in Lan Yuan's letter. He brushes the tangles out of his hair until it's falling down his back in soft, barely-there waves. He likes doing this himself, likes taking the effort to prepare his body for Lan Yuan. It puts him in a trance, one that makes him all the more yielding when his Lan Yuan takes him apart.

An exhale escapes his lips as he thinks about the previous visit. He'd been toyed with until he was a shuddering mess. Pinched and pulled at and caressed. Played like a guqin with the strings a little too taut, until his nerves were buzzing. 

Lan Yuan had not permitted him to come. He'd begged and begged, pulling out all the tactics he knew would get the other to lose it. It appeared the Lan had more restraint than expected. All he'd gotten for his efforts were a dark chuckle and a request for him to be good.

So, Jin Ling had been good.

It's been a week since then. Jin Ling's strings had been unraveling slowly, and now they're down to the last, thin wire. He's been perfect. Fine-tuned himself with little things here and there in the past few days. Threading his face, trimming his nails, extended meditations, inedia. Tonight, he'll be the perfect instrument for Lan Yuan.

Sometimes they crave spontaneity, but on this occasion, he's taking it a step at a time. 

He gets on his elbows and knees on the bed. The silky sheets caress his skin invitingly. He then pours a vial's contents onto one hand, watching it sluice tantalizingly down his slender digits. He spreads his legs and reaches behind him, nerves coiling in anticipation. A slick finger finds his rim and circles it slowly. He almost shudders at how wonderful that feels. After he's relaxed enough, two more fingers join in and stroke up and down, widening the stimulation on his sensitive nerves. He holds his breath and thinks of Lan Yuan's hands, calloused like a musician's and deliciously rough, and his legs feel weak. 

He relaxes his muscles and presses his middle finger in, hooking a fingertip on the ring of muscle at his entrance. He holds the pressure and writhes it around, thinks of Lan Yuan nibbling his throat, until it gives, and his finger sinks into his hole. His breath stalls as he squeezes around the digit in surprise. Of course, it's not enough, but it's something inside him, and a tingle shoots up his spine at the memory of something bigger. 

His chest tenses and he breathes only through his nose, starting to slide his finger in and out. He discovers he's wanting enough for two, then three, and then he's got three fingers shamelessly pumping in and out of him. Wet squelches echo throughout the room. If anyone sees him now...

He tries to focus on the task of stretching himself open but can't help but increase the pressure slightly on that little spot of pleasure. A breathy whine escapes him as he rubs against it unabashedly. It's nice, but it's not enough, and he can picture Lan Yuan smiling at him impishly like he knows he's ruined Jin Ling for anything that isn't his touch. The fingers pushing into his hole quicken, building up a coiling tension below his stomach. His cock pulses to life between his legs, leaking liquid fire at the tip. He feels strung up and utterly vulnerable.

He stops just shy of unraveling, exhaling harshly like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

Body buzzing with warmth, he gets back on his feet and slips on a silky robe. It's luxuriously delicate, a curtain of rice-water hugging his subtle curves. The front crosses low, granting a peek of his svelte, toned torso. The fading bruises on his skin are like the ghosts of gentians under the moonlight.

Jin Ling lights a few candles, leaves his hair down, and sits on the bed, straight-backed. He waits.

He only does the most for Lan Yuan.

When he hears footsteps approach his chamber, his heart does a flip. He's given the go-ahead to the disciples on duty to let him through. He wouldn't have been able to wait through the ceremony of receiving Lan Yuan at the gates. Wanted his hands on him as soon as possible. Knew that, had he gone out looking like this for all to see, his A-Yuan would have been driven mad with possessiveness.

A little-known fact about Lan Sizhui is that beneath his four-thousand precepts and diplomatic exterior lies something dark and territorial. Something that wants nothing more than to own every bit of Jin Ling's heart, body, and soul. 

He'd seen it first-hand when, during a night-hunt, a rogue cultivator had taken them off-guard with some talismans set up like limpets in their path. Jin Ling had scrambled up quickly, clothing torn in places from the explosion. The man had then dragged his greedy eyes over Jin Ling's delicate figure, over his sharp, pretty features. He'd pointed his sword at them, squalidly propositioning Jin Ling in exchange for their safety.

The man had no sooner said that before he'd been pinned to a tree by his throat. Lan Sizhui had then demonstrated that monstrous Lan arm strength by crushing his windpipe bare-handed. He'd been sheepish about it afterward. Jin Ling had not been okay but also troublingly turned on. Because maybe Lan Yuan would like to crush his windpipe too, but like, in an erotic, non-lethal way.

And this was way before they'd actually gotten together.

And so, his heart beats with anticipation as the door slides open.

Lan Yuan is stunning in the candlelight, with his refined, patrician features and a body that Jin Ling intimately knows is deliciously firm and muscular under his white mourning robes. 

"A-Ling," he breathes out, drinking in the sight before him, of Jin Ling on the bed in nothing but flimsy, white silk, staring at him like he's both afraid and ecstatic to see him.

Something stirs in his blood, causing his body to heat.

He shuts the door behind him one-handedly, not taking his eyes off the beauty waiting for him, the picture of lewdness in expensive robes and prim posture.

It turns out Jin Ling doesn't like waiting.

"Lan Yuan," he says, maybe a little hysterically, before he gets up and lunges at him.

He crashes into Lan Yuan, who acts quickly and lifts him up, letting Jin Ling wrap his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders. Jin Ling's body is a line of fire against his—mouth hot and moist as he locks their lips together in a searing kiss.

Lan Yuan licks into the slick cavern with equal fervor, thoroughly marking inside him. Jin Ling catches his tongue in retaliation, sucking hard, as drool drops undignifiedly down his chin. Lan Yuan chuckles and pinches his bottom harshly, causing Jin Ling to gasp out. He takes that opportunity to press against that bratty mouth and claim it once again.

Utterly dominated, Jin Ling can only moan as his eyes roll back. They kiss like this is the first drop of water they've had in days.  Fuck , how does Jin Ling live without seeing him every day? He can't remember how he's managed it so far. He can't think of anything beyond how heady he feels while completely and utterly in Sizhui's control.

Lan Yuan pulls back eventually to let them breathe. Jin Ling whines miserably, chasing him. Come back, I want you—need you—put your mouth back on me, or I'll fucking die—

He gets a placating peck on the corner of his lips. Lan Yuan cranes forward and says against his ear, "You got all dolled-up and pretty for me? Want me to play with you that badly?"

He smells divine, like cedarwood and a hint of petrichor from traveling. Jin Ling's mouth waters and he nods eagerly. He wants that wicked tongue all over him and in him, anything to soothe the flickering embers in his blood.

Lan Yuan gives him another kiss, this time between his brows, right on the vermillion mark. He carries Jin Ling to the bed, discards his bag and sword on the floor, and climbs on top of him. Jin Ling moans at the exquisite weight pressing him down. 

Lan Yuan trails his nose across the edge of Jin Ling's jawline, down to his throat. He nibbles there, intoxicated by the sweet scent of peonies. Jin Ling's skin is supple and bruises easily, so Lan Yuan takes care not to bite down too hard on his neck. His attitude changes, however, once he crosses the collarbone. 

Jin Ling can see the smugness on his Lan Yuan's face when he notices the bruises from last time haven't faded completely. He takes his time, biting and sucking adjacent to them, pulling back to watch the dark-red petals unfurl. Beneath him, Jin Ling arches and writhes like he's too big for the skin he's in. It's a little ridiculous, but Lan Yuan thinks there's something about the image of Jin Ling sitting imperiously in those important Jin sect meetings, heavily marked by a boy of Wen blood under his delicately embroidered robes. It clouds his head with lust and makes something in his heart sing in triumph. Jin Ling had simply snorted derisively when he'd admitted this ages ago with a huffy, 'Do as you wish.'

He knows that Lan Yuan knows he secretly likes it too.

Jin Ling turns into an overwhelmed puddle of liquid when he feels a hot puff of breath on his nipple. Lan Yuan isn't playing fair. He knows how sensitive that part is for him. A wanton moan escapes his throat when Lan Yuan latches on and  sucks . Heat spreads through that area, an electric shock traveling up his spine and dissolving his brain, leaving him an incoherent mess. Lan Yuan isn't unaffected either, his own erection pressing against Jin Ling's thigh, hot and rock-solid.

Lan Yuan laves at the stiffening bud, then grazes it slightly with his teeth. Jin Ling shudders and bites his lip. This would be more bearable if Lan Yuan wasn't looking up at him as he does it, smoke-grey eyes holding his gaze hypnotically. He slowly, teasingly, drags his tongue broadly over Jin Ling's nipple, sending streaks of fire through his nerves. The erotic image blurs as Jin Ling's eyes water, and tears finally spill when Lan Yuan's hand comes up to squeeze the other nipple tightly.

Jin Ling gasps out as Lan Yuan twists the sensitive bud, holding the painful pressure while he gently laps at the other side. He knows Lan Yuan could go on for hours, had in fact gone on for hours in the past, where he'd done nothing but pinched, pulled, licked, and sucked at Jin Ling's nipples until he was a sobbing, broken wreck. After that, his chest had been oversensitive, had rubbed against the fabric of his clothes painfully, tingling even days after. Lan Yuan was a sadistic little shit and had enjoyed every moment of it.

"Jin-zongzhu is spoiling me, letting this poor, undeserving A-Yuan drink his milk."

"Typical Jin sect behavior, offering plenty but there isn't any milk. Maybe this Wen Yuan should keep trying until something comes out, ah?"

No, no, no. Jin Ling glares through the haze. He did not prepare for hours just to have Lan Yuan tease him again.

"Lan Yuan, enough, don't you want to fuck me?" he pleads, voice hoarse from his unintelligible moaning, "I prepared myself. For you. You can just... slip it in."

At this, Lan Yuan stops his ministrations, eyes going black.

"Did you?" he says roughly, sitting back up, "Show me."

Jin Ling turns over and gets on his knees, arching his back, so his butt is in the air. Lan Yuan hungrily eyes the toned flesh, supple from the oil and glistening like a ripe peach.

"Spread it," he demands. Jin Ling's face flushes hotly as mortification creeps up his spine. He wants him to do something so embarrassing? 

"A-Ling," Lan Yuan says, warningly, "You're shameless enough to run your mouth, and you won't even show me?"

Jin Ling's face is entirely crimson now. He knows that tone, and it isn't wise to tempt it. Heart pounding wildly in his ears, he presses his cheek into the pillow as his hands shakily move down to expose himself. What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

Lan Yuan shifts, coming to kneel behind him.

For a moment, there aren't any sounds but Jin Ling's unsteady breathing. Jin Ling can feel those eyes on him, though, he can feel them watching his hole with rapt fascination. He can imagine what he probably looks like, twitching and contracting on nothing, shining wetly with slick and a little bit raw from the prepping. Lan Yuan doesn't say a word. He just keeps watching Jin Ling's backside with an insane focus as though he's paying attention to a fucking Lan lecture. The silence is deafening, and he burrows his face into the pillow more, utterly ashamed.

Suddenly, he hears a ragged exhale from behind him, and Lan Yuan's weight leaves the bed.

His heart wrenches painfully, and he drops his hands. Why did he get up? Does Lan Yuan think he's disgusting? Did the sight turn him off completely? Is he ugly down there, and Lan Yuan just never told him? Tears threaten to flow as his throat constricts. His knees wobble unsteadily.

And then the sound of something cracking cuts through the tension.

Jin Ling freezes. I-Is that?

Something cool and thin brushes across the back of his thighs.

"Lan Yuan?" he breathes after a moment, when Lan Yuan doesn't do anything more.

"A-Ling," he hears, dark and foreboding, "You look so lewd... So pretty spread out for me, all wet and red and pulsing, like you're trying to beckon my cock into you."

Relief floods him at the same time as a staggering excitement.

"Wanted to be ready... couldn't wait," he replies petulantly, muffled by the pillow. He doesn't dare look at Lan Yuan, almost scared about what he'll see there. 

"I like it very much," Lan Yuan says, voice sinfully deep, "So beautiful, my A-Ling. I think it deserves a few accessories, don't you agree?"

And then that long and thin something taps lightly on the fleshiest part of his bottom. Jin Ling's pupils blow out, and a searing heat crawls through his body. 

"Yes," he replies, without hesitation. They haven't done this in a while.

A hand strokes through his hair lovingly.

"How many do you think you deserve?" Lan Yuan asks quietly, impossibly gentle.

Jin Ling hesitates, swallowing, "Nine? For... for each day I wasn't with you."

Lan Yuan chuckles lowly, "Alright. Count for me, baobei."

Ah, Lan Yuan rarely calls him that. His toes curl, unbidden, at the treat.

Lan Yuan leans and presses a kiss to his hip. Then he backs away, and Jin Ling's stomach tightens with the suspense. His heart flutters faster than a dove's wings. The tip of the cane trails teasingly down his leg.


A stinging pain spreads across his bottom as the first strike lands, right under his cheeks. He's chosen a thin, flexible one this time, likely because they haven't done this in a while, and he doesn't want to overwhelm Jin Ling.

"One," he gasps out.

The next strike lands just below the first, a little harder this time, and it knocks the breath out of him.


Lan Yuan doesn't give him the chance to recover before the next two strikes come in succession, much lower this time. Fire flares through the sensitive skin of the back of his thighs.

"Three, four," he says quickly.

There's a moment where he doesn't hit again, instead choosing to gingerly trace the marked skin. Jin Ling nearly cries out from the anticipation, the tickling sensation of the cane trailing over the fresh marks almost unbearable.


" Five!" he yelps out, the hit catching him by surprise. It hurts less than the past ones, landing on the thick flesh of his bottom, but it's delivered so fast and suddenly that it makes him jump.

"Don't move, or I'll double it," Lan Yuan warns.

The next one is vengeful and searing, higher than the previous one. Jin Ling cries out.


Unseen to him, Lan Yuan licks his lips as he gazes at the inviting globes of flesh, marked with red stripes. The little pucker in between had been contracting deliciously with every hit. His trousers were beginning to feel incredibly tight.

He brings the cane down heavily yet precisely, focusing on the places Jin Ling would feel when sitting down.

"S-Seven!" Jin Ling squeals. His vision blurs. He turns his head blearily and realizes the pillow is damp from his drool.

Another firm strike finds its home between two other lashes.


The hits had become progressively harder from the fifth. Jin Ling finds himself clutching the sheets to anchor himself, both physically and mentally. He's been reduced to this—Sect Leader Jin, nothing more than a plaything for another sect's disciple to beat and humiliate.


"Nine!" he practically screams, the sting so intense it wrenches the sound out of his throat. That one impacted just below his hole. He whimpers in the aftermath, ass nothing but a radiating warmth now. It's deliciously agonizing, and he feels utterly surrendered.

"Are you with me, A-Ling?" he can hear Lan Yuan say.

"Mhm," he replies, in that sweet, endorphin-laced voice that Lan Yuan loves.

A warm hand presses on his abused bottom, a small relief from the tingling pain. Lan Yuan reaches up with his other hand and brushes the hair out of Jin Ling's eyes. Dazed myrrh meets smoky grey. Jin Ling blinks up cloudily through thick, dewy eyelashes. His tear ducts are swollen, and there are wet trails down his cheeks. Drool stains the pillow under him. Tendrils of damp hair stick to his pink-tinged face.

"Beautiful," Lan Yuan whispers reverently, pupils blown wide, "You did so well, A-Ling. So good for me."

Jin Ling keens under the praise. His knees wobble, thighs burning to hold his lower body up, reminding him of the time Lan Yuan had told him to do wall-sits and then shoved his cock down his throat, using Jin Ling's mouth like a toy.

"I'm going to fuck you now make sure this little gift you've prepared for me is well-used make you come over and over until you soak your entire pillow with your tears."

Jin Ling can only moan his acquiescence, all the brattiness beaten out of him until he was entirely at Lan Yuan's mercy.

Lan Yuan makes quick work of his own clothing. Jin Ling watches hungrily as his muscular chest is exposed, all jade-carved, elegant lines boasting strength and discipline. His eyes drift to Lan Yuan's strong, corded arms, and he thinks fervently, Gods, what do those Lans do to their disciples?

"Come here, A-Ling," he says gently, positioning Jin Ling so that he's laying on his back. Jin Ling hisses as he lies on the stinging marks, but it soon ebbs away into a thrumming sort of pain.

Lan Yuan gets between his thighs and spreads them. By now, Jin Ling's cock has grown soft, and Lan Yuan bends down so that his breath caresses it. Jin Ling widens his thighs until they're flat against the bed, thanking his flexibility. This exposes more of him to Lan Yuan, who runs his tongue over the crease between his thigh and hip. He nearly jerks up at the ticklish sensation. 

"Yuan-gege..." he says pitifully, pouting. He's doing it on purpose. He knows he is, and he knows it never ends well.

Lan Yuan shoots him a dangerous look and then proceeds to take Jin Ling in his mouth in one gulp. Jin Ling moans at the snug warmth, and his hips attempt to cant up, but Lan Yuan holds him down on the bed firmly.

He can feel his dick begin to grow hard in Lan Yuan's mouth. Lan Yuan bobs his head up and down, letting his tongue rub against the underside of the length to create that inviting suction. He focuses his efforts on the tip, making sure his lips hold and tug up the skin around the head to add to the sultry friction. Jin Ling feels like he's being taken apart rapidly, head spinning from the intense pleasure snowballing in his core.

Lan Yuan pops off just as he feels like he's about to fly off the edge. He whines at Lan Yuan, who simply presses a kiss to his abdomen. 

"You're only going to come from my cock tonight."

"Then hurry up," Jin Ling snaps, eyes wild from ecstasy.

"A-Ling ah, so impatient," Lan Yuan laughs, clicking his tongue, "Though I must agree, I'm feeling rather impatient myself," he says, glancing down.

It's the first time Jin Ling has seen his cock, and his eyes bug at how engorged it looks. It's massive and purplish-red at the tip, veins practically pulsing, and pearlescent drops of pre-cum leaking profusely down the shaft. How long has he been restraining himself?

He looks up at Lan Yuan, who is only now taking off his forehead ribbon, using it to tie Jin Ling's wrists above his head. Jin Ling doesn't even notice what he's done until Lan Yuan tugs at the tied ends and leans down, bumping their noses together.

"Sorry for making you wait, my treasure," he says, pressing the tip of his throbbing cock onto Jin Ling's hole. 

Jin Ling squirms at the heat, and this time Lan Yuan doesn't even react to his impatience and drives in, sinking into the hypnotic warmth.

Finally. Fucking finally. Jin Ling thinks as he moans wantonly. Lan Yuan had strung him out so long and tortured him with this agonizing wait. Now, the actual thing feels incomparable to anything he'd ever experienced before. His heart feels too full in his body, and fireworks sputter up his too-sensitive spine.

An animalistic growl vibrates from Lan Yuan's chest. Jin Ling finds himself crushed down into the bed as the usually gentle Lan disciple brutally rams his hard length over and over into the young sect leader's tight passage. Filthy, wet noises and the harsh slap of skin against skin reverberate in his ears, causing rouge to blossom brightly on his cheeks. Then Lan Yuan angles his hips a certain way, and the pleasure that shoots through Jin Ling is transcendent. 

Jin Ling cries out hoarsely as Lan Yuan batters his abused hole, pummeling mercilessly at his prostate. More, please more. Lan Yuan's hand comes up to his chin and forces their gazes to lock. Everything seems more obscene this way, looking into Lan Yuan's eyes as he fucks him at a forbidding pace, taking what's left of Jin Ling's dignity with every ruthless thrust. I'm yours. I'm nothing but yours. Fuck being a sect leader, just do me forever. Let me be your personal whore and lock me up to use me whenever you want. It's the only thing I'm good for. He babbles in his mind, never saying the words because he knows it upsets Lan Yuan when he talks down about himself.

"Yes! Oh, Lan Yuan, harder, harder !" he screams instead, thanking every deity that his chambers are isolated enough. If his disciples could see their proud, noble sect leader moaning like the cheapest brothel wench. Well, he's sure Lan Yuan would destroy them if a stroke didn't do the job first.

Lan Yuan groans and drives his hips in with a greater force, bouncing Jin Ling's body erotically as he continues to rearrange his insides. He's pretty sure his hole is dark red and swollen now, tender and hot as it is around Lan Yuan's punishing shaft. He screams his throat ragged at the exquisite friction, at the almost bestial assault on his overstimulated prostate. Lan Yuan looks just as wrecked, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes never leaving Jin Ling's.

"More," he gasps out, grinding down to meet the heavy thrusts, "I'm so close. Faster! "

"So fucking demanding," Lan Yuan grits against his parted lips, and then captures them in a searing kiss.

Sweat sticks their chests together. Lan Yuan's pace quickens even more and Jin Ling absolutely loses his mind. He breaks away from their liplock and throws his head back, eyes rolling to the heavens. The scream that leaves his mouth is silent, a frequency that can only be heard in the celestial plains. Lan Yuan greedily commits every second of the scene to memory. The edges of his vision pulse with lightning as he feels Jin Ling's velvety insides grip him like a vice, his nerves fired up like thousands of paper lanterns. He throws his entire soul into making Jin Ling go manic with desire, screwing vigorously into his familiar, learned pleasure zones.

And that's what does it.

Jin Ling silently screams several times in succession, eyes utterly void of presence as he comes so violently he tastes sparks, slicking between them with his spend.

Blood rushing to his head, the sight of Jin Ling coming apart pushes Lan Yuan off the edge. He slams that abused prostate erratically a few more times before pressing deep into Jin Ling's body and coming hard.

Jin Ling's broken cries peter out into delirious whimpers as he feels the wet warmth of Lan Yuan's release spill into his hypersensitive body. Silent sobs of relief wrack his frame as they both come down from the high, bodies pliant and yielding against each other. Beyond that, Jin Ling can't feel anything but Lan Yuan's heart beating against his chest, so closely pressed to his that he feels it echoing in his own body. It makes him feel utterly ensconced and so unquestionably Lan Yuan's that he can't help but tremble at the sheer vulnerability that seizes him.

As if he's thinking the same thing, Lan Yuan presses a kiss to the top of his head, reaching one hand up to untie the knot binding Jin Ling's hands. The moment his hands are free, they come to wrap around Lan Yuan's back, pressing their bodies together tightly.

"You're never allowed to leave me," Jin Ling mumbles softly, almost inaudibly.

But with how close they are, Lan Yuan hears it. 

Jin Ling finds himself trapped once again by a searing kiss, ravenous and saying all the words he needed to hear. Their tongues tangle softly, and when Lan Yuan pulls away, he does it with a punishing drag of teeth to Jin Ling's bottom lip.

"You say that like I will," Lan Yuan breathes against his reddened mouth, and can't resist giving the bottom lip another nip, "I think I'd kill you if you left me."

It's said lightheartedly, with a teasing lilt. Still, it sends an exhilarating rush through Jin Ling's blood, and his heart pounds wildly, mind flashing to all those glimpses of darkness he's caught in the past. He wonders if there's some truth to that and if there is, he wonders why he's so enticed by it—why it makes his heart ache with unspeakable warmth and his core tingle with excitement.

"Lying is forbidden," he says coyly, maybe a little too hazily intoxicated by all the pleasure hormones.

The cock inside him twitches, and he can feel Lan Yuan's balls tighten where they are flush against his ass.

"I did promise to make you come over and over," Lan Yuan says darkly, mischief in the line of his smile, "Your pillow is only half wet from your tears."

"Fuck off," Jin Ling shoots him a rare grin, blinding like the sun, and flips them over to show him exactly who's making who cry into their pillow tonight.