Work Text:
"Dan Feng, go do something about that guy," Yingxing says, leaning his chin on his hand as he sits at the massive banquet table. He points down the length of the crowded hall, targeting a particularly loud guest. Even from his seat far across the room, he can hear the man laugh, possibly at his own jokes. The obnoxious sound echoes loudly off the high ceilings of the sprawling, ancestral palace Dan Feng inherited along with his crown.
On his left, Preceptor Fenghuan whines as he tries to get closer. The man has been hovering over Yingxing's shoulder the entire night, edging closer and closer until Yingxing could swear he heard a few light, wet sniffs coming from him. At least Fenghuan is handsome, and watching a pretty man reduced to a needy, twitching mess by his sheer proximity is far too entertaining to put an end to just yet. Yingxing enjoys dangling himself like a treat just out of reach above these men's noses and watching them squirm. He only plays the game because he knows that if any of them ever dare to get too close, all he has to do is whistle for his guard dog sitting right beside him.
"Mh. Who?" Dan Feng doesn't even look up from the glowing holographic screen projected in his lap, fingers typing away. Even here, surrounded by the high society, duty consumes him. Yet, without a second thought, he tilts his upper body toward his left, leaning into Yingxing’s personal space until his shoulder brushes his husband’s, angling his ear closer to catch the explanation without missing a single keystroke.
"That one. The brown-haired eyesore with ugly glasses. I don’t like how loud he is. He’s ruining the ambiance."
"How dare the Grand Chancellor of the Ministry of Internal Revenue and Lord Overseer of Public Coffer Accounts exist in the same room as you." Dan Feng says in a completely flat, deadpan tone. His expression is unreadable as he reaches over to take a sip from Yingxing’s cup. "Too sweet," he murmurs, setting it back down before his gaze shifts toward the distant guest.
"That’s a lot of titles," Yingxing scoffs, cutting a dry, unimpressed look toward the man before turning right back to his husband. "So... can you get rid of him?"
"A man of no real substance always clings to a long list of denominations. It is the only way they can trick themselves into feeling important." With a casual swipe of his hand, Dan Feng sends the glowing text dissolving into the air. Turning his full attention back to Yingxing, a faint playful smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "I could make him leave, but why should I do that for free? What do I get in return? You have to give me at least a reason to exert myself."
"You’re such an opportunist." He reaches out, his fingers hooking firmly into Dan Feng’s collar, tugging him down to force their faces closer. "Get rid of him now, and you can do whatever you want to me the second we lock the bedroom door. I mean it." He’s still a bit sore from how they started their morning, but the lingering ache only makes him want Dan Feng’s hands and cocks back in him. Quickies are never enough.
Dan Feng smiles a little bit too wide, showing gums, grinning like an animal. Yingxing barely has time to react before long fingers slide between his thighs under the tablecloth. His palm cups firmly over Yingxing’s pussy through the thin fabric of his pants, pressing the heel of his hand right against the soft mound. He jolts, and a surprised giggle slips out before he can stop it; clamping his thighs together instinctively, he’s trying to trap the wandering hand while squirming in his seat.
Before Yingxing can even stop squirming, Dan Feng leans down and presses a lingering kiss against his temple. The gesture looks perfectly innocent to anyone watching. He pulls back a heartbeat later, and that wicked grin drops instantly, wiped clean from his face with terrifying speed.
"Wait for me," the man murmurs words meant only for them. His face is a mask of aristocratic indifference once more, his gaze locked onto the crowded room as he stands up. He brushes down the front of his robes to hide his boner, but Yingxing isn't fooled. Watching from the table, he can tell his man is still rock hard just by the way he walks away, slightly crouched as he heads into the crowd.
Yingxing stays behind, leaning back in his seat as his eyes trail down the broad line of Dan Feng's back. A quiet sense of pride settles in his chest as he looks at the familiar dark colors and patterns woven into Dan Feng's clothes. They'd agreed to match for tonight, and seeing his man head out in his colors, ready to play the perfect host and toss a guest just because Yingxing told him to, is a great fucking view.
Sharing a life with a powerful man opens doors that ordinary citizens could only dream of, but it leaves Yingxing marooned in a very specific kind of solitude. He buries himself in his labor, finding great satisfaction in the heat of Luofu’s small forges, fully aware that his peers despise his presence. But work is a poor shield against the quiet and their hatred. He misses his friends, left to long for the phantom warmth of a bigger family while living in the shadow of an immortal throne.
"I was thinking about inviting our friends over."
"I don’t like being a host, dear. You saw them just a few weeks ago," Dan Feng sounds weary but warm. He runs neatly trimmed claws through his hair, carefully parting it to braid into two sides.
"I know, but—" Yingxing turns his head slightly, disrupting the braid just enough to catch Dan Feng's eye.
"Yingxing, please. I did not marry our friends, and I do not want to see their faces daily." Ever mercurial, Dan Feng’s voice turns final this time, his fingers giving a firm, warning tug to the strand of hair in his hand.
"Two months ago is hardly daily. You’re getting old, and your memory is starting to fail you." He retorts fast. Yingxing tries to pull away, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave; let this stubborn man of his rot alone in their room until he begs him to return. But he knows it will never happen. Dan Feng is far too proud, and Dan Feng never begs.
Still, scaled hands are quick to cradle the sides of his neck. Dan Feng noses at his nape, dragging his tongue over the delicate skin there, causing goosebumps to spread. "Maybe it’s best to go see them somewhere else, if you want to," he murmurs. "I am not keeping you locked here." At least he is quick to offer a solution. But that conversation was days ago.
Another great thing about sharing his days with Dan Feng is that the man is loyal to one cunt, unlike many other powerful men Yingxing had the displeasure to meet. That much is clear. He can’t keep his hands off him either, not even now when Yingxing is taking off his jewelry in front of their shared vanity table. Looking into the mirror, he watches the man groping at his chest from behind. His hair is wet above his ear, whether from Dan Feng’s drooling or the prolonged, open-mouthed kiss pressed there.
Yingxing stops trying to take off his dangling, gold earrings, abandoning the jewelry to roll his shoulders and lean his weight back against Dan Feng’s chest, trying to jostle him off. But Dan Feng barely moves, his grip only tightening. Yingxing brings his hands up, placing them firmly over scaled hands as the man squeezes his tits, pressing down to make the grip harder. Looking right at his reflection, he snickers and asks, "Can I help you, Sir?"
"Perhaps." Dan Feng chuffs against his skin, sinking his teeth into the soft cartilage of Yingxing’s ear. He nibbles his way down, teeth dragging over the dangling gold jewelry still hanging from the lobe. "Do you always smell this good?"
"What do you mean by that?" Yingxing turns his head just enough to break the hold on his ear. "Does this imply I don't usually smell good?" It doesn’t work, so he gives Dan Feng another gentle shove backward, trying to dislodge the heavy weight of the man's chin from his shoulder. "Are you drunk?"
"No, I am not drunk." Dan Feng scoffs, but his eyes stay locked on Yingxing in the mirror. He leans down, trapping him against the vanity as he presses his nose hard against the crown of Yingxing's head. He inhales deeply. A hard, shameless breath that drags the scent of Yingxing’s hair deep into his lungs. "You smell especially good tonight," he rumbles against his scalp. "What did you put on your skin? New perfume?"
"You’re imagining things. It’s the same scent." He doesn’t pull away this time. Looking at their reflection, he reaches behind himself, lovingly patting Dan Feng’s flank.
His husband’s patience has completely run out. "Get up." The man commands, but he doesn’t really give Yingxing a chance to move on his own. Taking the matter into his own hands, he curls his arms around Yingxing’s waist from behind and drags him upward. Yingxing’s thighs scrape against the edge of the vanity as he is forced to his feet.
He thrashes weakly against the hold, twisting his torso as if trying to break free from the solid chest at his back. Mock complaints and tender curses leave his mouth. "Let go of me, you stupid man! You’re like a starved dog. You’ll bruise me!" He says, but they’re all insincere. Yingxing twists and turns hard, fake-struggling, digging an elbow somewhere into Dan Feng’s stomach, all to shift his weight downward. He backs up until his butt presses hard and tight against the man’s crotch.
The friction breaks whatever reins Dan Feng had on his restraint. An ominous growl resonates in his throat. Pressed together as they are, Yingxing feels the noise vibrate right through his own back just as Dan Feng’s hips snap forward, bucking hard into his backside. He slides his feet a fraction further apart, spreading his legs to welcome the contact. There is no mistaking the hard ridge of his dicks pressing almost between Yingxing's thighs, claiming the space he has just surrendered.
There is no escape from the hold. Dan Feng grips his hip bones like a freak, thumbs digging hard into the meat like he wants to break his pelvis apart, keeping him in place as he rolls his own hips upward. The stiff lengths of his dicks are decently thick, and they rub firmly against the cleft of Yingxing's ass. Fabric molds over his cunt and the rigid seams of their trousers, grinding together till they bunch up and trap body heat between them. Yingxing's head tosses back against Dan Feng's shoulder, a high-pitched whine squeezing out of his throat. "Ah—! Will you take me to bed?"
"Well, do you want to fuck standing up?" Dan Feng’s tone is smug, yet a little strained. Yingxing can’t see his face, but he can feel the curve of a smile against his neck when the man kisses him. Dan Feng, expert performer with a thousand faces, apathy incarnate, absolute ruler of his troops on the battlefield, and a very jealous petty man, isn't nearly as unaffected as he wants to seem.
Yingxing lets out an open-mouthed, uneven whimper. "No..."
He doesn't even get to breathe out the syllable before Dan Feng swoops low. In one seamless motion, the man turns him around and hooks his arms under Yingxing’s thighs, hauling him off his feet. Gasping, he grabs for his husband’s shoulders as Dan Feng spins them around and laughs. Yingxing barely has time to wrap his legs around his waist before the bastard pivots on his heel, carrying their collective weight across the room until they plop heavily together onto the bed.
Piled up together on the mattress, Yingxing looks past Dan Feng’s shoulder at the canopy curtains, the red veils half-drawn to wall them off from the rest of the room. Staring at the translucent cloth, a dirty, lingering regret flashes through his mind. He should have crawled onto the mattress on his own instead of letting himself be carried. Yingxing could have slipped behind that curtain first, making Dan Feng reach for him through the fabric, then drag that veil between their faces and force him to kiss his bloody lips through it, masking and pressing their mouths together until the silk was soaked through with their spit.
While on his back, Dan Feng gets half on top of him, and his hands are cold around Yingxing’s elegant neck. They press into him as they did a thousand times before, and then the man bends down to scrape his teeth along the pallid column of his throat right above the fluttering pulse of his carotid. It’s never unpleasant, even with the possibility that his husband could sink his teeth into the exposed flesh and leave him bleeding out. The beast cradles the back of his head, hand tangled in blue hair, while the other snakes around his waist. With a sigh, Yingxing closes his eyes, head falling against pillows that smell of Dan Feng, as he gives up his remaining weight to the mattress.
When he opens them again, Dan Feng is staring at him like he wants to eat him. Pupils blown wide, black cutting through the teal of his eyes. It’s the look of love; at least this time, Yingxing knows his man isn’t high on painkillers or drugs. There’s a sheen of moisture at the corner of his mouth, where a single bead of saliva glistens as it spills down his chin. Maybe to others, he seems otherworldly, unhinged, like a rabid demon who crawled from the depths of hell to drown the world; Yingxing thinks it makes him look stupidly adorable. Ridiculous even.
"You’re drooling." Yingxing’s hand lifts on instinct, thumb brushing the corner of Dan Feng’s mouth to delicately wipe away the evidence of his disarray. He lifts his head from the pillow and leans up on his elbows just enough to kiss him. A soft, short press of their mouths. Both of their lips are cracked.
Dan Feng’s hair is pooling around their faces, shielding them both from the rest of the world like a dark curtain. He doesn’t respond like a normal human being. If anything, he chuffs and growls, scrunching his nose, his lips parting just enough to reveal the faint gleam of his canines. "Yingxing, Yingxing, Yingxing." He chants, rough and excited against his mouth, before he kisses him back like he’s trying to bite. He chews at his lips, then shoves his inhuman tongue past his lover’s teeth, slick and impossibly long. Cold, like the rest of him, but not unpleasant. Never unpleasant. It glides smoothly over the roof of his mouth, licking behind his teeth before finding its way down his throat, curling into depths no human anatomy could ever reach. It’s a wet, breath-stealing intrusion that makes Yingxing's toes curl, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he gasps around the feeling.
Fingers push blindly at Dan Feng’s chest, then they claw into his hair. Anything to find space from the overwhelming, alien sensation. Dan Feng lets out a guttural sound, letting him gag once, twice against the impossible length before finally pulling back. He stops because Yingxing's throat must be hurting, and despite all his rowdiness, his husband has always been careful not to break him completely. Their legs are intertwined, hands roaming over fabric as they shift and slide their lower bodies, chasing the urgent friction. With Dan Feng’s weight pinning him down, Yingxing hitches his thighs higher, right against the thick ridge of the man’s dicks so they can rub fiercely through the tangled layers of their formal robes.
There is no patience left. Dan Feng bites his cheek, then tears his mouth away just enough to bury his face in Yingxing's neck, his fingers tangling roughly in the front of Yingxing’s shirt. He doesn't bother untying them and just yanks, snapping the red silk cords to slide his bare hand flat against Yingxing’s chest. His palm glides over warm skin, his thumb and claw digging hard into the line of his collarbone. Yingxing lets out a broken, shaky exhale, his hips rolling and shifting in his man’s lap as he fights back, his hands blindly clutching the sash of Dan Feng’s heavy outer robes and tearing at the dark fabric to rip the layers apart.
"Help me," Yingxing pleads, his tone cracking on a breathless, miserable note as the matching red knots refuse to budge. He gives the black silk a useless, frustrated yank, then abandons the stubborn fabric entirely. His hands move up to grip Dan Feng’s shoulders instead, pulling him down, waiting for his husband to solve the problem for him.
Rearing up just enough to seize his own shirt, Dan Feng rips the fabric off his shoulders and tosses it mindlessly over the side of the bed. Bracing one forearm right next to Yingxing’s head, he uses his free hand to fist the stubborn red knots on Yingxing’s chest, snapping the silk cords with a single, violent pull to tear the fabric completely open. The harsh tear of the silk makes him gasp, tears of sheer overstimulation and sudden frustration pricking his eyes. He grips one of Dan Feng’s arms, digging his fingers into the man's blue scales as he yells, voice crumbling into a whimper. "Why did you rip it?! That was a nice shirt, you brute!"
"Stop bitching," Dan Feng grunts, looking down at the wet lashes, the flushed cheeks, and the angry, beautiful mouth, completely unmoved. "I’ll get you a new one. I'll buy you ten. Shut up."
The second his chest is exposed, Dan Feng’s mouth is there, striking viciously across his skin. He buries his sharp teeth directly into the sensitive flesh right above Yingxing’s heart, sinking them in deep enough to draw a tight, stinging line of blood. Yingxing gasps, a broken sob catching in his throat as his hands fly up to grip Dan Feng’s hair, trying to push and pull him closer all at once. Panting against the wound, Dan Feng doesn't bother taking his own inner layer off properly. He barely lifts his body to grab the hem and yank it over his head in an impatient twist, tossing it aside so he can slam his bare chest flat against Yingxing’s bleeding flesh.
They barely have a moment to register the rush of skin against skin: Yingxing’s softer, warmer human body blanketed by Dan Feng’s cooler frame and the scrape of his scales. Panting heavily, Dan Feng lowers his head back to the mess he just made, his long, blueish tongue sliding slowly over the raw bite wound on Yingxing’s chest. The sting vanishes instantly. His watery, healing saliva coats the broken skin, and a soothing chill washes over the puncture marks as the flesh knits back together under the steady glide of his mouth.
Dragging his chest over Yingxing’s, Dan Feng crowds lower, burying his face straight into a toned belly. He nips and bites at the sensitive flesh, his teeth scraping hard enough to make Yingxing twist and whine against the mattress. Scaled hands descend on his trousers, fisting the layers of fabric along with his underwear and tearing them both over his hips with brutal impatience, forcing the cloth past his thighs. Yingxing lifts his hips to help, kicking the pants and undergarments off the rest of the way until his lower body is completely bare.
Not about to be the only one exposed, Yingxing lunges for Dan Feng's waist. He handles the belt with familiarity, snapping the main silver clasp open and tearing the front ties of his trousers apart. He yanks the layers down Dan Feng's long legs with shaky hands, entirely done with anything getting between them. But the moment Dan Feng lifts his weight off him to pull the trousers away, Yingxing makes a frustrated, needy whine. He hates the sudden chill of the empty air, and his hands instantly reach up to claw at Dan Feng’s hips, trying to drag that heavy, comforting body right back down where it belongs.
The moment the fabric clears, Yingxing doesn't wait. He reaches down and wraps both hands around Dan Feng’s hard, aching cocks, feeling the smooth, tapered tips already leak with precum. The shafts are thick at the base and gradually narrow toward those elegant, pointed heads, cool and pulsing in his grip. His thumb instinctively traces the most prominent vein that runs along the underside of the top cock before curving up the side, thick and ridged under his touch. He gives them two tight, desperate strokes together, squeezing just enough to feel them throb and Dan Feng grunt.
His husband’s breath hitches. One large hand slides between Yingxing’s thighs, fingers parting his slick folds with a gentle hand. He runs two fingers up and down the seam of his cunt, spreading the wetness, teasing the sensitive entrance before pressing the tip of one finger inside. He’s leaking like a faucet, and the texture of those scales feels so good, but he’s also impatient.
Yingxing’s hips jerk. He slaps Dan Feng’s hand away with a smack. "I’m wet enough," he hisses, his voice rough with need. "Just get in me. Now."
His partner thrills, almost relieved. Without a word, he grabs Yingxing by the hips and flips him onto his stomach in one smooth motion. Yingxing barely has time to brace himself on his elbows before Dan Feng is covering him from behind, chest pressed to his back, hips slotting between his spread thighs.
"Only one, alright?" Yingxing breathes out, voice already shaky when he feels something thicker poke at his cunt. "I’m not stretched."
Dan Feng makes a low, wrecked noise, half groan, half purr, right against the back of Yingxing’s neck as he melts around him. He’s a mess, twitching with barely contained need, but his voice has gotten soft. "Anything you want, love," he murmurs, lips brushing Yingxing’s ear. "Just one."
He doesn’t push in right away. Yingxing can’t see him, but he likes to imagine the man gripping the base of his cock and slowly rubbing the tapered, leaking tip through slick folds. The smooth head glides up and down, parting the wet lips, teasing over his clit, and then circling the entrance, gathering more wetness with every pass. Each slow stroke makes an indecently wet sound. Yingxing shudders, pushing his ass back against the teasing pressure. His man flops like a pancake all his two hundred forty catties of dense Vidyadhara bones and muscles against his back and groans again, pressing just the tip against his entrance, rubbing it in small circles to spread the slickness before fucking his own hand. His breathing is ragged against Yingxing’s shoulder as he fights the urge to sink in. "I’ve got you," he whispers, voice strained with arousal. "Tell me when."
"You’re a grown man, you can decide when," he bites out. "And you’re crushing me, get your damn weight up—"
Breathing out hard, Dan Feng braces his weight back on his elbows, lifting just enough to give Yingxing room to breathe. Without another word, he lines up and shoves the head of his cock inside in one firm, stubborn push, breaching the dripping entrance.
"Fuck—yes," Yingxing gasps, pushing back his cunt to take more.
The tapered tip makes it easier at first; it parts him smoothly instead of forcing its way in like a blunt human cock would. Yingxing’s eyes flutter shut, and a soft sigh is born in his chest. Over the years, he’d overheard enough crude banter from coworkers and friends to know how clumsy, insensitive, and painful human and foxian dicks were. He had listened to them complain about partners who didn't care enough to take their time.
Yingxing is lucky to have never known that rough carelessness. He had never known another man at all. Dan Feng is his first and last, and while he could get vicious and mean, even with his teeth and claws, he loved him with a terrifying, single-minded devotion. Every drop of blood he drew was laced with an undeniable adoration, and turning around to kiss him while getting fucked, Yingxing truly believed his husband would hand him the stars and gift him the moon ripped right out of the sky if he could and if they weren't just a projected hologram running on a loop over the fake dome of their ship. A wave of fierce, tearful pride washes over him, entirely sentimental that he was going to spend the rest of his life bound to the only monster who knew exactly how to cherish him.
Once the thicker ridges start sliding past his entrance, the stretch becomes intense and delicious. He can feel every single wave-like band dragging along his walls, rubbing firmly against that sensitive spot inside him with every inch. The cock is cooler than his own body temperature, almost soothing against his overheated insides, throbbing as it fills him all the way. The second cock, hard and leaking, slides against the cleft of Yingxing’s ass with every thrust, the smooth underside rubbing teasingly over his skin.
Panting heavily into the sheets, Yingxing reaches back to blindly claw at Dan Feng’s forearm, trying to slow him down. The force of Dan Feng’s weight from behind keeps shoving him upward, his chest flattening against the mattress as he loses all leverage. "Dan Feng—stop, wait. I need a pillow. Get me a pillow." He sighs, knuckles turning white as he’s bunching up the fabric of their bedsheets. "I need something to hug."
At least his man has the decency to slow down, but he nudges his thighs open wider and lifts his ass higher by the hips, forcing himself as deep as he'll go. "Open your eyes; it’s right by your face." His tail curls around Yingxing’s thigh with smooth, cool scales pressing against warm skin. The texture is sleek and slightly bumpy with fine ridges. Not sharp, but firm enough that Yingxing can feel every shift when the tail tightens or twitches with Dan Feng’s pleasure.
"I don't want mine!" Yingxing snaps as hot tears of frustration spill from his eyes and his nose. "I want yours. Grab it off the floor; you have the longer reach. It smells like your hair, Dan Feng, please—"
Dan Feng scoffs, but he doesn't deny him. He reaches all the way down to the floor, snagging the discarded pillow and tucking it right under Yingxing’s waiting arms, and Yingxing instantly collapses over it, pressing his face into the silky fabric and clenching the soft corners in his fists and drinking in the clean, comforting scent of his husband. Before he can even sigh in relief, Dan Feng sneaks his hand with trimmed claws right between the pillow and his chin. The cool palm slides up to cup Yingxing’s neck, with a thumb settling gently and caressing his pulse point.
Keeping his lower body heavily locked in place, Dan Feng flexes his fingers around the alabaster column of Yingxing's throat, gently pulling him up and tilting his head back from the mattress. Yingxing sighs, his fingers still clenching the stolen pillow as he’s drawn up against his husband’s chest. Dan Feng buries his face straight into the messy dampness of Yingxing's hair, kissing the crown of his head, lingering sweetly, and then his forehead. Then he rests his nose against the sensitive dip behind Yingxing's ear, closing his eyes as he takes a long, slow breath.
Back with his lips pressed tender and close against the crown of Yingxing's head, Dan Feng chuffs out a breath that stirs the blue strands of his hair. His fingers flex gently against the angle of Yingxing’s jaw in a soundless demand for attention.
"Does it feel good, Xing?" he murmurs, a deep, vibrating rumble right against his skull. "Talk to me."
Yingxing moans, searching for his husband’s eyes, hand shooting up to cover a scaled, bigger one over his neck. "I like it when you go deep like that… and you knock right against that spot inside me. It makes my whole stomach feel warm and tight."
Without warning, Dan Feng drives his hips forward in a slow, steady arc. The unique, pointy head of his length slides all the way home, bottoming out against the innermost pocket of flesh inside him. The sudden, intense pressure against that sensitive spot makes Yingxing’s entire body go taut, his toes curl, and weeping gasps tear from his throat.
He's a real sweet boy, this man of his, Yingxing thinks. Shields him with his body from fossils of his nasty court, who haven’t seen a cunt in centuries. Fucks his womb open and apologizes with kisses and candied fruits. It leaves him yearning as his heart drops in his stomach and coats his organs in the sticky film of love. He wouldn't mind bearing a child with this man if their mismatched bodies weren't so stubbornly, tragically incapable of it.
Pinned beneath his immortal husband, the reality of his own fleeting timeline crushes his ribs. He’s only thirty, but he can already feel the years beginning to stack against his bones. It leaves a fierce, aching longing and a sudden desire for a little piece of life they coaxed into existence together. A perfect blend of their blue and red blood that looked just like them. He imagines a child who would love him unconditionally simply because they came from his own flesh, waking up to the world in his arms. Yingxing had spent his life shaping great works at the forge, but he knew with an absolute, tearful certainty that this child would be his greatest creation, outshining every grand project his hands would ever touch.
But they would never have it. Thoughts spiral, and they make him vicious, mind spinning out into a toxic, desperate envy even as Dan Feng fucks his brains out. Yingxing finds himself hating everyone outside this bed. He hates the wretched mortal peasants who live in squalor and breed like animals without a second thought, pathetic, unremarkable laborers who lead poor, uneventful lives, fucking once in a dirty alley and ending up with twins they can barely feed. He hates the wealthy, long-lived elite with their stables of mortal concubines, spawning a dozen heirs to secure their worthless lineages. Ten years of being split open and getting it raw, and he can’t have at least one child.
Yingxing grips his husband’s pillow tighter, his teeth grinding as alienation washes over him. He used to care about the plight of ordinary humans and see himself in them, but now he feels entirely detached from their kind. Their simple, easy fertility disgusts him. He doesn't want to be one of them anymore.
"Turn me around," he snaps, panting hard as he barks the order. "Now. I want to see you."
A heavy hand shifts to his hip, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. The second he’s settled, Yingxing hooks his arms tightly around his husband’s neck and locks his legs around Dan Feng’s waist, yanking him down hard until their bodies are flush. He shifts his hips and opens himself wider, making it easier for his husband to drive right back inside him.
"Deeper," Yingxing demands, voice cracking with frustration and need. "I want to feel all of you."
Before Dan Feng can answer or say something conceited and inflate his own ego about how big his dicks are, Yingxing pulls him down into a rough, desperate kiss, parting his mouth with a needy huff and biting down on his man’s lower lip until he tastes the bitter blue blood of the Vidyadhara. Dan Feng’s monstrous healing kicks in fast, and Yingxing’s mind births the thought of biting him again, but his heart doesn’t want to hurt him anymore, so he stops. On the mattress, the tail comes alive, slithering down from Yingxing’s leg and coiling firmly around his midsection. The cool scales press hard into the soft flesh of his waist, binding them together so tightly that Yingxing can feel every twitch of the muscles keeping him pinned.
He slides his arms completely beneath Yingxing’s shoulders, gathering him up into his chest until there isn’t a single inch of space left between them. Tangling his hands in Yingxing’s hair, Dan Feng cradles the back of his head gently, shielding his mortal lover as he folds his scaled frame around him. The man leans down, and his thin, cracked lips brush against Yingxing's wet cheek as he whispers to him, "I’ve got you." A long tongue slides out to gently lick away the hot tears spilling from his eyes. Then, with a low, soft purr in his throat, Dan Feng presses his weight forward, burying himself inside him with one steady, unhurried thrust.
How could they hate him? Yingxing thinks, his chest aching with uncontainable love. This man wouldn't dream of causing unnecessary pain. He has hands that can call down storms and tear through flesh, yet right now, those sharp claws are trimmed so carefully, hiding themselves in Yingxing's hair without nicking a single inch of skin, flattening his large palms against his skin so he never scratches. They’ll pull Dan Feng away from him with their pointless, endless wars, sending him into the worst of the meat-grinder campaigns until they finally find a way to get him killed.
Then they’ll drag Yingxing away and marry him off to another man, securing a match Yingxing will despise while his husband rots away in one of those loathsome eggs. He knows how Preceptor Lianshui looks at him. Even if Dan Feng always holds him tight and swears they are just empty words, promising that nothing can touch him, Yingxing doesn't believe him.
Yingxing moans into his man’s arms, legs tightening even harder around him, anchoring himself to the only solid thing in his world. He tries to swallow the bitter panic rising in his chest, but it breaks past his lips anyway. A wet, broken sob that leaves him panting helplessly against his husband's mouth, his fingers clawing into Dan Feng's shoulders.
One of his man’s cocks slides deep with every rolling thrust; the smooth, tapered, teal head nudges right against that sensitive spot inside him before the thicker ridges drag along his insides, and the broad slide of flesh against flesh leaves him completely weak beneath Dan Feng. The second cock, heavy and leaking, slides messily between his folds, coating his mound and the inside of his thighs with clear, cool fluids.
"Why are you crying, love?" he murmurs, gentle and worried. Dan Feng slows his hips but doesn’t stop moving, pressing soft, prolonged kisses along the side of Yingxing’s neck. "Are you in pain?"
Sniffling, he reaches up with both hands, grabbing Dan Feng firmly by his horns, and tugs him up so they’re face to face. By the groan he makes and how his cock twitches inside Yingxing, the bastard probably enjoys it.
"Dan Feng," he says, voice shaky but fierce, eyes wet and blazing. "Look at me."
He waits until those piercing eyes lock onto his own, refusing to let him look away from the tears or the anger. "I want to have a child with you," he chokes out the fierce command. "Give me something they can't take back."
This despicable man dares to roll his eyes and giggle. Rams against his womb and gets him all sore. The mockery is entirely affectionate; the tail tightens around his waist into a suffocating embrace. "I can do many things for you," Dan Feng leans down to press their foreheads together, his long dark eyelashes fluttering against Yingxing’s cheek. "But not that, and you know it." He cradles Yingxing's face in his large palms, smoothing his thumbs over those fierce, wet eyes. "Where are these thoughts coming from? You are sweet, but I would make a terrible father."
"That’s not true!" Yingxing protests, voice shaky with emotion. He grabs Dan Feng by the face, fingers digging into his jaw and squishing his cheeks together, hard enough to force his lips to pout. "If we can't do it like this, we do it differently." He says, and on the last word, he hitches his hips and pushes up hard against Dan Feng’s dick. The tilt that forces a winded grunt from them both. "There are thousands of worlds out there, Dan Feng. I've seen research. So many species have children through artificial means, brewing their cells in a capsule until a heart beats. We are not trapped by what our bodies can do."
"You think no one thought about that before you?" Dan Feng doesn't pull his face out of the tight grip, but his entire body goes completely rigid, dropping his massive, unyielding weight straight down onto Yingxing’s pelvis. He stares down with those slitted eyes, pupils narrowing with patronizing conceit. "You think you're the first person in history to look at a laboratory and think they can outsmart archaic curses?" He asks, words slipping past his squished lips like ice. Yingxing still thinks he looks silly. "It’s not that I’m incapable of getting you pregnant. Permanence and these constant, endless loops of reincarnation have utterly ruined my body. Eons of dying and rotting inside a shell, only to be stitched back together, have corrupted the code. It's locked. Frozen. My cells don't combine; they replicate, or they destroy. If you tried to force them with yours, they would just eat them even after the product had formed."
"What?" Yingxing’s wide eyes blink once, twice. Fingers slacken against his husband’s cheeks, and his hands drop slightly as Yingxing just stares at him, completely derailed, his mind blanking out under the dead weight pinning his hips. "Not incapable. What do you mean by that?"
For the first time in years, the man on top of him looks entirely foreign. Dan Feng doesn't answer right away, and the sharp, angular lines of his face lose all their familiar warmth. Those strange teal eyes, slitted and glowing in the dim light of their bedroom, look less like his husband's and more like those of an ancient, unknowable creature, utterly detached from the human logic Yingxing lives by. It doesn't last long. The strange solemnity vanishes as Dan Feng smiles and makes a cute noise. Purring, he dips low to snap a playful bite at Yingxing’s cheek, shoving a hand between them to rub at his clit.
He nuzzles the edge of Yingxing's jaw, his breath hot and uneven. "I mean, if you want a kid so much," he whispers, his other hand curling into the mattress beside Yingxing's head as his hips finally stir against a tight, sore body, "we can pretend we're making one."
Oh, two can play this game. Yingxing gets the overwhelming urge to shove Dan Feng off his person and banish him to the bathroom to fuck his own hand. Alone. If the bastard thinks a half-hearted flick and a bit of dirty talk is enough to make him compliant, he is sorely mistaken. Yingxing locks his legs tighter around his husband’s waist, smiling meanly through the tears. His hands slide up into Dan Feng’s long hair, stroking through the dark strands before tugging gently at the roots, pulling him down closer.
"I think you’re just mean," he whispers against Dan Feng’s mouth with both frustration and aching affection. "And I want you to father all my children. Because you’re strong and smart and beautiful… and I want them to look like my husband."
Dan Feng pants hard, breath scalding Yingxing's face before he surges forward. The kiss is deep, wet, and utterly merciless when their teeth gnash together and an inhuman canine nicks Yingxing’s lip. His man’s tongue slides into his mouth, unbearably smooth and shockingly cool against Yingxing’s warm one like he’s trying to swallow the very words Yingxing just spoke. He’s confirmed, yet again, that men love getting their ego stroked as much as their dicks. He moans into the kiss, legs locked tight around Dan Feng’s waist. At least it’s not in vain, as the cocks he’s been stroking for nine years are pleasantly ridged and thick enough to make him cum when Dan Feng fucks him, slow and loving, or when his hips snap forward, pounding him into the mattress with eager thrusts that make the bed creak.
The air smells of Dan Feng’s petrichor sweat, a scent Yingxing finds deeply comforting. He breathes him in, and he’d love to lean forward to lick the salty beads off his man's chest if Dan Feng wouldn’t be jostling him so much with every push. One calloused hand slides down, wrapping long, elegant fingers around the second cock that’s sliding against his stomach. He strokes it firmly, thumb teasing the leaking tip and tracing the smooth skin. It feels satisfying to the touch, softer there than anywhere else on the man’s body.
In return, Dan Feng presses his fingers harder against Yingxing’s clit. This time he works it with intent, using the flat of two fingers to stroke firm, messy circles over the swollen flesh, occasionally dragging his thumb across it in slow, teasing passes. The pressure is perfect, exactly how Yingxing likes it when he’s this worked up, and he’s secretly thrilled that his stupid man is finally using his brain, dicks, and fingers as he should.
Between wet, desperate kisses, Yingxing gasps against his lips, forcing the syllables past a wrecked breath. "And I want to have them all back on my home world… not here."
Dan Feng looks down at him, with his teal eyes hazy with pleasure and sudden, stupid surprise. "The Zhuming?" he manages, and the name of Yingxing’s dear homeworld breaks on a rough exhale.
"Yes," Yingxing breathes. He lets go of his cock, his fingers tracing up the smooth planes of Dan Feng's back to settle firmly at his nape, holding him right there, locking them together as another deep thrust makes him shudder from head to toe. "The weather here is awful, Dan Feng. The cold will freeze their little bones, and they’ll get sick. I want them born where it’s warm."
By the way his man groans into his mouth and twitches all around him; Dan Feng must be close. "Then I’ll give you that," he rasps, kissing him hard once more. "Anywhere you want, love. I’ll give you everything." Dan Feng sighs, forehead pressed to Yingxing’s as his hips stutter again, clearly fighting to hold back, and his tail curls fiercely around Yingxing's waist, squeezing him in a tight, crushing grip. He thinks it’s hot as hell, and a dark thrill shoots straight to his gut, already knowing he’ll be waking up to a ring of deep, heavy bruises around his middle tomorrow, and he can't wait to see them. Yet, the thought sparks a sudden wave of protectiveness. The bruises are fine for now, but if he ever bears a child, all of this would have to change. He’d never let his husband crush him like this again, terrified that these violent passions would end up hurting the fragile life inside him.
Yingxing realizes it’s the perfect time to plant ideas into his head; he’s close too, and he knows that once he cums, his own brain gets fried and all he’ll want to do is sleep.
"Please," Yingxing moans, deliberately softening his voice into a ragged whisper, throwing every ounce of his pride into the fire just to watch Dan Feng burn away with it. "I want a child with you so bad. I keep thinking about it. Figure something out for us, Dan Feng. You always find a way." Another devastating thrust hits his sweet spot, making his eyes roll back as he squeezes his legs tighter and cunt around his man in calculated surrender. Still, he can’t deny that it feels good, and he’s so, so close. "I don’t want anything else from you. I never ask for anything else. This is all I want, Dan Feng. Just let me have this."
He’s a massive hypocrite. Yingxing asks for things constantly, always pushing his luck and always getting exactly what he wants from his husband. He fully intends to keep demanding more, too, but Dan Feng doesn't need to know that right now. He tilts his head up, pressing a wet, adoring kiss to the sharp line of Dan Feng's jaw. "You can finish inside," Yingxing murmurs against his skin, as a final, tempting lure offered up on a silver platter. It never fails.
Dan Feng reaches down, hands closing around Yingxing’s hips as he lifts his hips off the bed, pulling him flush on his dick so that there’s no space left between them. "I know," He chokes out, breath catching as his hips push forward one last time. "I know."
As his man slumps against him, Yingxing looks up to see a rare, entirely placated expression smoothing over his features. The heavy, exhausted weight of the High Elder seems to melt away, leaving his face looking a few centuries younger, softer, and completely relaxed for once. There is absolutely no half-assing it with a Vidyadhara. The man cums so much it’s a choking hazard when he sucks him off, but at least now, the over-the-top amount makes Yingxing want to pat him on the head and tell him he's a very good boy for trying so hard. It’s silky and smooth, nothing like the sticky, clumpy, disgusting mess human men make. It feels luxurious inside him, cool and soothing against his feverish, sensitive walls, like a gentle balm easing the ache from being fucked so hard.
The cock buried deep inside him throbs hard, then releases in heavy, drawn-out spurts, flooding his insides; the second one, trapped between their stomachs, pulses and spills pearly white across his skin in messy streaks over his mound, cooling his overheated body. Dan Feng’s release sends Yingxing right over the edge with him, and a wrecked, satisfied moan breaks from his mouth as his toes curl and his own hips twitch up.
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it looked like some fancy foreign dessert: glossy, pearlescent, and strangely elegant as it drips down his belly onto the sheets. Yingxing can’t actually see the rest of it leaking out around the base of Dan Feng’s cock, but judging by the glazed, proprietary look on his husband's face, he probably has a fantastic view.
The aftermath feels incredible, as a heavy, throbbing satisfaction that radiates all the way to his bones. But it’s nothing compared to the absolute triumph that lands right in Yingxing's lap when Dan Feng finally speaks again, tired and completely sincere, "Do you want a boy or a girl?" As prideful as his husband paraded himself to be in the light of day, he was remarkably easy to bring to his knees. Imbibitor Lunae and some sort of god in the eyes of his people, yet he’ll always be weak for Yingxing’s cunt.
"A healthy child." Yingxing murmurs softly. He reaches up, his fingers sinking gently into dark hair to pet the back of Dan Feng’s head. With his other hand, he uses his thumb to tenderly unstick his husband’s sweaty bangs, brushing the damp strands away from his eyes before leaning up to press a soft, lingering kiss against the base of a crystal-blue antler.
"That sounds about right."