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Sunlight slid between the curtains and slanted across the bare backs of his calves, fracturing as it hit the edge of the sheets. His mahogany hair slipped around his ears like a stream’s flow, its tiny golden flecks set to glittering in the late afternoon’s warm glow. Xichen, light-headed with the moment, stared down at the succulent plum-red of his sleeping mouth. As if he’d sensed the weight of that gaze, a-Yao’s visible eye fluttered slightly, seemingly still asleep but deeply watchful under their dark canopy of lashes. On seeing Xichen’s face it shuttered again, a soft smile spreading out across his features till it reached those lips.
“You’re still here, er-ge,” he murmured into the sheets, adding “gege” with what might have been mischief.
Xichen gestured around him, smiling indulgently back.
“And miss out on this luxury?”
The hotel was in a surprisingly functional state once one was inside. Jilin’s towns might look run-down but the few remaining civilians were welcoming and even more discreet. And thus they’d found themselves in one of the biggest suites, faded opulence gone slightly to seed and that was just perfect. They seemed to be alone on the floor, if not the wing. It was a-Yao’s idea, of course, like many of their experiments. Once inspired, however, Xichen’s enthusiasm was boundless. After their second and more dangerous rendezvous, he’d shyly volunteered his cover name instead of merely his position, Er Ge to his San Di.
“Xichen, arriving with the first light of the morning,” a-Yao had smiled almost shyly up at him then, his huge brown eyes wide and liquid, taking in every detail of his indulgent expression. A-Yao was somewhat acknowledged (if not actually respected) for his near-perfect memory, an invaluable asset which mattered then far more than his limited standing. “Xichen,” he’d whispered again, testing it in his mouth, “so romantic. A classicist. Did you choose it?”
Xichen had then himself seemed a little shy at that also, ever so slightly flushed. It had been obvious from the first breath that he was highly educated and likely came from money. A-Yao, in his secret way, heard how the networks who knew of him gossiped about this. Some felt it made his commitment to the cause more admirable, as he gained nothing for himself; others scoffed, spitting out that the upper classes knew their days of privilege were numbered. A-Yao had suggested that he recognised their common cause, the Chinese people united in resistance. He’d caught a stifled snort as he’d left, claiming an appointment, and made himself scarce. Once he’d appeared to depart, he’d silently overheard further scornful remarks about his mother and the presumption of thinking himself one of them. Fists clenched, he’d reminded himself that there were other things which mattered far more.
Xichen, rosy as the dawn, had eventually responded from beneath his eyelashes to the question posed.
“Not alone. You know how it is.”
He had then raised his head and looked back with deep benevolence on his face.
“And you?” he’d asked gently. He’d already known his cover name, Lianfang, but little more. So what was to be done then but to be A Yao for him? Their narrow escape has emboldened them both. Xichen had cupped his face in both hands, delicately as he might a fine porcelain bowl, and whispered “Yaohua” to his mouth as their lips pressed close, soft as spring blooms falling.
~
Now, he ran the flat of his broad palm down a-Yao’s spine in a firm line, pausing just to cup over that curve and squeeze slightly. His elegant fingers were strong and firm.
“Er-ge, it’s not a car horn,” was the mild, muffled response from the pillow.
“Sorry for my cruelty, san-di.” He wasn’t sorry at all, digging his nails in to elicit a low and gratifying hiss. “You seemed to be encouraging it last night.”
“Sadly I have a long train journey ahead, I must be able to sit on the benches tomorrow.”
“So unfair, to send you so far.” Xichen murmured, bending forward to sink his teeth into the yielding flesh. A soft groan invited him back to do it again, then A Yao sighed,
“No choice. Nobody else has the codes.”
“Stay safe, a-Yao.” Xichen fell silent as he pulled him slightly upright and into his side. He kept stroking his hand firmly over a-Yao’s smooth forearm, not teasing but reassurance. A-Yao leaned in and put his head on Xichen’s shoulder. Above his forearm, the curve of his upper bicep and shoulder was peppered with small white pocks, as if buckshot or maybe tiny razor-edged pieces of gravel had struck him at point-blank range once. Xichen’s fingers smoothed softly over its dimpled textures, a slow, long-fingered loop.
“I may not look like much but this lowly man has some meagre skills.” His face carried an air of mischief.
Xichen’s fingers drifted down to the more ominous scars below, an angled slice into his belly mirrored by a wider slice blown out on his back just above his kidney, at the same height and angle as the front. His face must have fallen so far on seeing it the very first time, since a-Yao had given him a soft, rueful smile, shaking his head and whispering “not today”, before dropping directly to his knees. The distraction had been effective, but Xichen could better modulate his responses now. He stroked the scar’s ridged borders till he felt a small shiver.
“San-di is far more skilled than his modesty admits. Also bolder.” Xichen turned and tipped his head down, nudging a-Yao’s face up with the tip of his nose till he could slide their mouths back together.
His tongue felt as slender and pointed as a letter opener, sliding in gently yet firmly to prise open the flap of his waiting mouth until they were both panting heavily, arms pinning each other in place on the ludicrously oversized, palatial bed. They whispered encouragement to one another then. A-Yao pressed his full body weight in more heavily in order to push Xichen onto his back, leaning up over him to continue whispering encouragement in his ear. Xichen reached up to tousle fingers through his hair, then used the curve of his hand and the leverage of his long legs to flip them both over, a-Yao’s sudden surprised breath leaving him as his back hit the mattress again. Xichen crowded between his soft thighs as a-Yao laughed indulgently up at him.
That hint of a promise had made him flushed and the tiniest bit mean, had him hooking his heels across the backs of Xichen’s thighs and tilting his hips just so in order to drag his solid cock hard against Xichen’s from balls to leaking tip, then back to start the cycle again. His deep, juddering groan only encouraged a-Yao to press in and up more firmly. He ran his left hand across that firm chest, scratching into a surprisingly soft small patch of silken hairs, rolling those pale nipples hard, one at a time as Xichen tried to stifle his gasps. A-Yao’s right hand didn’t tease, it kneaded its way up those powerful thighs, muscles corded and taut as guy-ropes. His nails scratched first softly, then more intensely, as Xichen fought back with his fingers reeling them in again, pushing them even tighter together, pressing their turgid pricks so close that the intensity whispered around the far edge of pain. Their hips, united, rocked neatly together, sending intense waves surging up and up A-Yao’s body, clawing at his throat. Stubble buzzed the softer skin under his ear as he felt Xichen’s slightly dry lips and thin sharp teeth work their way down to his collarbone. Under the collar line.
“It’s safe enough to leave a mark. Today you needn’t hold back.”
“Hm. Habit.” He could hear the amusement in Xichen’s voice. He didn’t change position as his teeth pressed in again. A-Yao didn’t plan on shifting him. He just shifted his right hand up to cup and tug a little on his balls, maybe firmer than some might dare on such brief intimacy, but he didn’t think he’d be rebuffed. A choked gasp, ineffectively stifled, made him grin a little smugly, then catch his own breath again sharply as those calloused fingers were gripping his own cock, and how had he not known how badly he was needing that? Now they each had their hands on each other’s dicks, fists moving slowly but surely in matched time, following the motion of their hips. They were pulling each other so close their knuckles grazed. He felt that shocking heat, that slick hard perfect unique shape under his deft fingers. He gave a small squeeze and it twitched upright, leaking a little over the pad of his thumb. Unbidden, a-Yao suddenly thought of what it might be like to have something that hard and eager plunging into his body right now. His every muscle tensed at the thought and he felt as if a hot vermilion line was carving its way from his tingling ass, between his balls and up inside him from the base of his cock to his belly, his very core. Maybe…He heard a soft sound over the heavy breathing and it was him. Xichen’s hand slowed on his shaft, softening his grip slightly but not stopping. His head drew back a little to check in, eye to eye.
“Please.” A-Yao’s voice was less steady than he expected. “Please, I want to...see you.” He felt another hard twitch in his hand as Xichen smiled back, indulgent.
“As do I. I want to see you too.” He leant in close to put his mouth to a-Yao’s ear, ticklishly soft, and whispered, “Do it.”
With that, he sped up the pace of his hand on that hard cock, slippery now as it leaked slowly and profusely over his fingers. The touch was fireworks inside him, dragging him up so high he felt giddy. The larger hand on his own kept him floating. He instinctively pressed his eyes shut tight as his mind swayed. The lowering sun slinked back in through the gap in the heavy, aged curtains and seared a line at the edge of his eyelids as white hot as the line between his legs. He was an automaton, his hand matching er-ge’s by instinct alone as his thoughts were all on his tingling skin. It was like nothing more than the memory of the prickles on his flesh that had stood his hair on end and struck hot sparks that seared his arm. It had been his first, fateful mission, when he’d learnt what he could do and how, terror turning to a giddy, wild glee in victory. He felt a little of that wildness now, a little like hunger, a little like looking up at a vast mountain but instead he was on the very edge of a steep, steep...
Er-ge’s louder gasps broke into a helpless gritted whine that snapped a-Yao back into the full force of his orgasm, body shuddering harder when he opened his eyes to see Xichen’s eyes fixed on his face with a truly unexpected expression of wonder. He realised that part of the hot tingle on his skin was the warm wet evidence of his er-ge’s joy, running down his chest. Xichen’s chest had that light dusting of hair; it was dark, with sweat and more. They were both flushed deep red, but Xichen was panting harder.
“I thought you wanted to watch me.”
“I do! I...” a-Yao looked down and realised his softening prick was still in Xichen’s large, protective fist. He smiled ruefully and gently removed his hand, as if holding on too long might be a mild breach of etiquette. He grinned up at a-Yao as he very deliberately sucked his fingers one by one, incorrigible.
“Well,” his san-di shrugged, carefully casual, “I suppose we could just do it again.”
Xichen turned and fell onto his back on the still-firm mattress, hands primly folded on his chest. The muscles corded in his arms stood out as he held himself neatly. His smile, his eyes, matched warmth with melancholy.
“You young people, so full of energy. What if I wish just to lie with you a while in peaceful calm?”
That lake-smooth face broke open at “young”, his san-di arching his perfect eyebrows and laughing out loud for once, unrestrained. A rare gift, this solitude.
“Er-ge’s stamina is legendary. We have time enough.” A-Yao leant up over his body once more, matching Xichen’s soft smile with his own, his mood easy as a spring breeze.
“I would never wish to disappoint.” That broad hand around the back of a-Yao’s head, pulling him in firmly for a salt-sweet kiss.
“When?” he asked gently enough but there was an urgency to it. A-Yao sighed.
“In the morning, first light. Over the roof. You can stay until 10:30 but don’t forget to check out at the main desk. They need to see you leave.”
Xichen’s warm palms pressed into his cheeks as he pulled back till his face was in focus again. His face was a pale moon caught between the darkness of his hair and eyes; his mouth’s own deep-flushed red, in the room’s dusty and lengthening shadows, could have bled.
“On the sixth of the month, san-di.”
“The sixth, er-ge. You have my word.”
He smiled back until his er-ge’s mouth met his once more.