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Lan Sizhui is not a natural submissive, but he approaches submission with far more grace than Jin Guangyao himself has ever managed. Sizhui goes to his knees, and in the space of a few breaths, he centers himself, tension loosening in his muscles as he prepares to begin the scene.
His posture when he kneels up to attention is textbook perfect, or near enough—his eyes are raised, meeting Jin Guangyao's gaze without challenge but also without apology. They both know a good Lan dominant would never allow it, but Sizhui did not ask for a scene with Lianfang-zun to receive instruction in Lan-style dominance.
It surprises Sizhui anyway when Jin Guangyao drags him to his feet by his hair. The boy struggles. That calm, expectant gaze is shot through with fear—all the nerves Sizhui had so carefully put aside just moments before. He's second-guessing the wisdom of asking for this lesson from Lianfang-zun, attentive anticipation shifting into pure reaction. Good. Jin Guangyao could smile, but he does not.
Not yet. "You Lans, you always think so much," he says instead, following it up with a hard slap across the cheek that has Sizhui reeling. Sizhui opens his mouth to respond, and Jin Guangyao stalks forward, cutting him off before he can speak, pushing him further out of his calm and into the headspace Jin Guangyao wants from him. "I'm going to have fun with you, little boy. Your uncle is too easy. He sinks so deep. But you? I don't think you'll hit subspace and ruin my fun, will you?" This scene is a lesson, yes, and one Jin Guangyao is going to enjoy giving.
There is, Jin Guangyao often suspects, almost nothing Lan Xichen would not allow him when deep in his subspace. It's thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, a precious gift of true submission offered with devastating sincerity.
Lan Sizhui is not his uncle; he will not find the same easy surrender, but the vulnerability he has offered in submitting is a different kind of gift. I want to learn how to force someone, he'd asked, how to find their fear and drag them into it as far as they can bear. Lan Sizhui has learned well in his training how to wield discipline and pain, and it is a pleasure for Jin Guangyao to show him another sort of sadism.
Sizhui steps back, poised as if to flee, and now Jin Guangyao allows himself to smile. Sizhui bolts, but Jin Guangyao is faster.
Jin Guangyao slams him into a wall and leans his weight into him, a hand heavy on Sizhui’s breastbone that has him freezing, breath catching just from the threat. They're of a size, but there are more ways than one to make a submissive feel small, feel trapped. At another time, Jin Guangyao would address him with respect as Lan Sizhui; in this moment, he spits his birthname as if he were nothing more than an unruly child. Sizhui whines like a cornered animal in a way that thrills the predatory part of Jin Guangyao as he struggles once again to escape.
Jin Guangyao lets himself be moved and trips him instead. The cry Sizhui makes as he hits the dark wood floor of the Hanshi sharpens Jin Guangyao's arousal, but he laces his voice with boredom as he kicks Sizhui over and plants a booted foot firmly on his chest. Sizhui's eyes are wide and wild; he's panicking as he struggles to follow the thread of Jin Guangyao's words. Jin Guangyao expected this: he wants him off-balance far more than he wants his replies.
He straddles Sizhui's hips and feels his body go tense beneath him. Sizhui is bracing for more violence, so Jin Guangyao gives him gentleness instead, cupping his jaw and caressing his soft lips. He wonders if Sizhui knows how cruel they can look when he sneers. The tenderness he usually brings to his sadism suits him, but Jin Guangyao has seen flashes of his sharpness before, when Sizhui is deep enough in a scene that he allows himself the full breadth of his desires. Jin Guangyao permits himself a little more of the same, pressing his thumb into Sizhui's mouth and pushing down hard on his tongue.
"You should stop me, little boy," he says, relishing the way Sizhui goes still, still, still, the way his breathing becomes shallow and he finally stops resisting . He's on the edge of something, Jin Guangyao thinks, but whether it's tapping out or submitting, he's not quite sure. He presses harder on Sizhui's tongue and continues: "Before I get you naked. Before I get my fingers in your hole and see how wet you are."
I do like being fucked, Lan Sizhui had told him, voice steady even as his cheeks pinked to speak so plainly, and you can, but I want you to make me afraid of it. To feel like I won't have any say in how or who or what happens.
And why am I using you? Jin Guangyao had asked, feeling out the shape of Lan Sizhui’s fears, that vulnerable line between the erotic and the horrific that would make this scene work. Simply because I want to? Because you're nothing more than a toy? Because you can't stop me?
If you really want to scare me, Lan Sizhui had said, hesitant for the first time in their negotiations, because I'm breeding stock.
Wetness spills from the corner of Sizhui's eyes and mouth to run down his cheeks. He looks wrecked and beautiful, and Jin Guangyao finds that he wants him. He's enjoyed watching Lan Sizhui while overseeing his development as a dominant and even found pleasure in permitting Lan Xichen to submit for him. He expected to enjoy this scene as well, but the intensity of his desire for Xichen's nephew in this moment surprises him. Perhaps it shouldn't. Jin Guangyao has long known he is a man of complicated tastes.
He sets it aside and leans once more into where he wants to drag the remarkable young man beneath him.
Sizhui gasps at the mention of continuing the family line and surges up when Jin Guangyao talks about how Xichen would fuck him. Jin Guangyao slams him back into the floor. Jin Guangyao's blood rushes in his ears as he holds Sizhui down; he's hard, and he lets Sizhui feel it. Sizhui is sobbing in earnest now, his anguish delicious as he wars with himself over this thing that he fears so much—and wants anyway.
Jin Guangyao knows well how excruciating it is to be pinned down and forced to look at a truth that terrifies you.
(He has always preferred to be the one doing the pinning.)
He grinds his hips into Sizhui, the evidence of his own arousal in stark contrast to the nonchalant tone he puts into his words: how he would get Xichen hard, how he would force him to fuck Sizhui, how beautiful the two of them would look sobbing in each other's arms. It happens to be true—he could do it, and they would be beautiful. He would enjoy watching them. He would not enjoy putting them back together afterwards, but he could do it, if Sizhui chooses to let this scene play out that far. For a moment he fears that Sizhui's silent tears are a sign he has misjudged his force, and that Jin Guangyao has tipped him into subspace after all.
"No," Sizhui whispers, the first he has spoken since he went to his knees.
"Ah, did I so easily find your breaking point?" Jin Guangyao asks, letting his voice go cruelly soft. This scene is not quite over, and Jin Guangyao is still teaching by example. "Is it that I'd force your bofu or that I think you'd make such beautiful babies with him?"
Jin Guangyao smiles when Sizhui tries once more to fight. He's stubborn. Stubborn and brave and beautiful, and still not too proud to let himself be dragged to the very edge of his limits. If Jin Guangyao were a worse sort of man, he would want to see Lan Sizhui broken. He is not, so he would rather see him thrive. He matches Sizhui's force and offers a gentle reminder: "Use your safeword, Sizhui."
When Sizhui whispers "red," Jin Guangyao stands to help him to his feet.
Lianfang-zun does not often give praise, but Sizhui has more than earned the "Good boy" that slips from Jin Guangyao's lips. Sizhui shivers as the heat of the scene slips away, and Jin Guangyao wraps a blanket around his bare shoulders as he leads him to the bed. He picks up his phone off the bedside table to summon Lan Xichen—his submissive and his submissive's nephew have a similar taste for snuggling after a scene that Jin Guangyao does not share.
He checks the time: it has been seventeen minutes since Lan Sizhui knelt.
Jin Guangyao had thought it would take no longer than twelve.