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“I figured this is where you’ve been holed up.” Yingxing chuckles as he lets himself into his own apartment, greeted by a familiar pair of Cloud Knight boots kicked off by the door. He finds the owner of the boots in his bed, stripped down to his underclothes and curled around a hot water bottle. He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him too much, and pushes the other man’s bangs from his face. Tired gold eyes look back at him. “Must be pretty bad this time around if you dragged yourself all the way here.”
“I wish I had less supportive coworkers,” he gripes.
“Usually that’s the opposite of what one wants.”
“Not when they’re so supportive they forget I’m trans,” Jing Yuan says blandly, his brow twitching in annoyance. “And I have to explain to five different guys in a row why I’m stuck in bed, and then wave five different guys off from standing there, stammering and offering to run to the store for painkillers or chocolates or whatever the fuck.”
“Offering chocolates to my boyfriend? I might have to go bust some heads.” Yingxing teases, rubbing circles into his back. It’s awfully tense.
“I’m glad none of them struggle to see me as ‘one of the guys ,’ but really, what does anyone want most when they’re on their period?” He scoffs, burying his face into Yingxing’s pillow. “To be left alone.”
“Mmm, am I to take this as a hint too?”
“No, not you. If you stop rubbing my back, I’ll die.”
“You won’t die.”
“I’ll die tragically in your bed, and you’ll have to explain yourself to the authorities. You’ll go down in history as a mean boyfriend who withheld life saving back rubs, instead of as a great craftsman.”
“Harsh. Guess I have to stay then.”
“You’d best.”
Yingxing takes a moment to look around the room. Jing Yuan’s uniform is tossed over the footboard of the bed, his guandao parked primly by the door. His phone sits discarded amongst the covers, and there’s a half-finished glass of water on the bedside table.
“Taken any medicine?” He asks.
“Mhm.”
“Drinking lots of water?”
“Mhm.”
“Eaten?”
“A little. Stomach hurts too much.”
“Ah. Hot bath?”
“Thought about it. Did the water bottle instead.”
“Anything else?”
“Uh… prayed to Lan to magically remove my uterus?” Jing Yuan offers blandly. “What else is there?”
“Exercise or stretching can help-” He starts, then huffs a soft laugh as he feels the shudder that races up Jing Yuan’s spine at the suggestion. “Okay, okay. Jerking off?”
“Ah, right, of course, how could I forget that one?” The younger man says dryly, rolling his eyes. When Yingxing doesn’t continue, he looks back at the older man. “...are you being serious, Xing-ge? How’s that supposed to help? It’d just make a mess.”
“You really didn’t know?” Yingxing snorts, shaking his head. Golden eyes glare at him, and then turn even sharper as he removes his hand.
“Xing-ge…” he repeats, higher and petulant. “What do you mean? Come back…”
“Just running us both a hot bath. I’ll show you what I mean.”
🛁🛁🛁
“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help me,” Jing Yuan grumbles, but there’s a lot less bite to his voice now that he’s enveloped in hot water. His back rests against Yingxing’s chest, cradled between his legs. Remodeling the bathroom to have a massive tub continues to prove a worthwhile investment, not merely for their vidyadhara third but now also for this. He’s a genius, truly.
“I haven’t started yet,” Yingxing reminds him, his hands sliding down from where they’d been rubbing his shoulders to his chest, the softness of them still notable under his fingers despite the definition of muscle.
“Not too hard,” Jing Yuan warns, beginning to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. “They’re tender.”
“Tender, mm?” Yingxing very generously refrains from groping the other man’s chest as he is wont to do. Instead, he massages them in soft circles, dragging his fingers back and forth across the nipples until they’re budded. It doesn’t take long for Jing Yuan to start shifting and squirming.
“How is this helping?” He grumbles, but his voice is less firm than before. Now, it’s a little softer, a little breathier - impatient, but not nearly as tense.
“What, you don’t like to wake yourself up a little before you dive down there?”
Jing Yuan tilts his head back to give him a dry look. “I share my bedroom with another guy and a bathroom with ten. If I want to do anything, it has to be quick.”
Yingxing can’t help laughing, even at the unamused look his boyfriend gives him. Truly, soldier barracks sound horrible for one’s self care . He kisses him in apology.
“Poor thing. Guess you’ll have to come here if you want some uninterrupted self love.”
“I’m not coming all the way to your apartment just to use my hand when you’re right here–!” He bites off, breathing in sharply as Yingxing suddenly grabs under one of his thighs, hoisting it close to his chest. Yingxing’s other hand trails down from his chest, dragging against his stomach and settling on top of his mound, just shy of the goal.
“That’s fair,” Yingxing chuckles, nibbling on the edge of Jing Yuan’s ear as he feels the other man squirm against him. “Alright, Yuan-er, I’ll stop teasing you. Just stop thinking so hard about it. Part of the idea is to take your mind off the cramps.”
“It’s a little hard to–!” He chokes off again, this time silenced by Yingxing catching his mouth with his own. At the same time, his hand finishes its descent down into Jing Yuan’s wet folds, feeling a wetness there different in viscosity to the warm water around them. It provides good lubricant as he explores, teasing at his hole before sliding back up to the top of his slit. Jing Yuan groans into his mouth, and Yingxing eats up every noise.
From personal experience, Yingxing himself is typically more sensitive down there during his cycle, and Jing Yuan seems to be no different. He’s certainly more twitchy, his hips shifting this way and that, his hands grabbing into the meat of Yingxing’s thighs. When he shifts from kissing his lips to his neck, Jing Yuan’s soft groans provide a lovely accompaniment to the performance of his body. Lavender eyes track each heave of his chest, each clench of his legs, each flutter of his eyelids. He focuses mostly on the clit at this point - maybe he’ll penetrate him on his fingers next round, if Jing Yuan wants a next round. He thinks it’s a high possibility, given how little time it takes Jing Yuan to tense and release, his core tightening with his orgasm, beautiful bitten lips hanging open and his head tossed back against Yingxing’s shoulder.
“ Xing-ge– ”
“Did that help, Yuan-er?” He asks with a chuckle. He continues to rub languid circles against the other man’s clit, relishing in the little tremors that wrack the body in his hold.
“It certainly distracted me,” he admits, and Yingxing wants to swallow the breathiness of his voice - so he does, savoring it open-mouthed until JIng Yuan mumbles something against his lips that deserves his attention.
“Mm? What was that?” He asks. When Jing Yuan hesitates, he rolls the nub his fingers are still resting on again.
“ Ah – Xing-ge–”
“Hmm?”
“Again,” the younger man relents, swallowing whatever internal battle of pride or embarrassment he was waging inside to ask. “Can you give me another?”
“Oh? Hm, but I’ve shown you how to do it now. Don’t think you can handle it on your own?”
Even with his face burning, Jing Yuan pushes back against his teasing. “It feels better when you do it.”
Let it be known even Yingxing is not immune to Jing Yuan’s whims. Not that he was planning on denying him anyway.
“Whatever you wish, baobei.”