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Hua Cheng is beautiful.
His chest rising and falling through breaths he does not need, cheeks flushed all the way to his clavicle through active manipulation of his long dead heart. The smooth plane of pearly white skin is dyed red even though the characteristic crimson of his robes have long been discarded to the side, forgotten until an unknown amount of time. Xie Lian skims a palm over a toned stomach, through abs that constrict, through a waist that shivers. Hua Cheng bites his lower lip hard, the skin raw and bitten both by the owner and his lover, a sight that makes Xie Lian helpless to swoop down and steal a lingering kiss—just one of many, just one of much more.
Xie Lian pulls away only enough for the both of them to look at each other without going cross-eyed. He stares at Hua Cheng’s half-lidded gaze, one black orb clouded over with a lustful and loving haze, the other covered indefinitely by a scarred eyelid. Xie Lian kisses the scar gently, one hand moving to palm the underside of Hua Cheng’s sharp jaw, the other one silently creeping to take hold of the twitching sex firmly. Hua Cheng’s breath hitches, and as though surprised, his hands shoot up to cling around Xie Lian’s neck. The god’s pupils dilate without his own knowledge, and he drinks in the sight of Hua Cheng’s deliciously furrowed brows, his parted lips, the pants that fan Xie Lian’s skin.
Up, down. With every stroke of his hand is a sweet sound produced neatly by Hua Cheng’s beautiful mouth, a sound that caresses Xie Lian’s ears in both a gentle and sinful fervor. Xie Lian traces the bulging veins on Hua Cheng with firm fingers, moving through the shaft in a measured, steady rhythm.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng moans, and Xie Lian swallows. He presses a thumb to the tip of the member, thumbs the slit, squeezes the base. Hua Cheng’s lone eye rolls to the back of his head, back arching off the bed. Xie Lian is granted the sight to an unblemished but splotchy neck, and, his throat dry with thirst, he greedily ducks in to take. The marks that bloom on Hua Cheng’s skin are enough to rouse Xie Lian to suck more, to mark, to see more evidence of what is his. Hua Cheng lets him, as he always does, trembling all over, hands and grip tight on Xie Lian’s shoulders. Xie Lian increases the speed of his hold on Hua Cheng’s throbbing dick, kissing the lone tear that escaped the corner of the ghost’s eye.
“G-gege,” Hua Cheng quivers. He pulls Xie Lian close, closer than they already are, until their chests are flush together and he’s breathing right in Xie Lian’s ear. His husband’s sweet, sweet sounds go straight to the evidence of his own uncontrollable arousal. “G-ge—ahh, ahh, gege—“
Xie Lian’s pupils shake. His own leaking member stands tall on his stomach, red and angry and dripping, and he impatiently grinds it down along the crack of Hua Cheng’s ass, the other giving a long, drawn-out moan in response. Patience, Xie Lian reminds himself, Patience. They have all the time in the world, now. No one could ever come in between them, no one could ever take this sight away from them anymore. Patience.
Hua Cheng comes with a godly moan, and through his slackened grip, Xie Lian manages to again pull away so he could observe his lover’s expression. Hua Cheng had ascended as a god, once, and Xie Lian cannot help but agree every time he’s reminded, the prowess of his husband too undeniable to Xie Lian and the common people alike. But especially now, with Hua Cheng’s jaw slack and with his eye squeezed shut and with his chest raised in a beautiful arch—Xie Lian loathes that he cannot kneel in front of an altar, loathes that he cannot show his devotion and worship and piety. His husband has altars, but he does not condone kneeling in front of them. Perhaps, if Xie Lian asked nicely, he would be kind as to give an exception.
Before his husband could regain a semblance of collectedness, Xie Lian abandons the still-leaking shaft and moves down. He gently but steadily raises Hua Cheng’s legs to rest on his shoulders, spreading them just wide enough so he could duck in between. Without warning, like a man depraved, he selfishly licks a strip up the waiting hole.
“Gege!” Hua Cheng exclaims, a thrill to his voice, the skin under Xie Lian’s tongue convulsing in surprise, “Gege doesn’t have to d—o—ooo… that… hnnn… Oh, heavens…”
The king of ghost city, the strongest supreme in the world. This husband of his that spikes terror and fear in even the stronger gods in heaven, whose reputation is so revered that even as a ghost, he is worshipped and prayed to. The man that stands above all, Xie Lian’s only equal—reduced to a heady, mumbling mess, unable to do anything but surrender himself under his only god’s mercy.
What are people going to say if they knew? Xie Lian nudges his tongue against the rim, pushing into the hot cavern. What are people going to say if they knew?
Drunk by the potent of Hua Cheng’s image, drunk by the power he is so readily trusted, Xie Lian fixates his eyes on Hua Cheng’s flushed face, tongue fucking in and out of his husband’s most private part. All the while, Hua Cheng’s hands are clenched on the sheets of their huge bed, silk threatening to give in under the pressure and rip to shreds. Xie Lian sucks and licks and bites, almost obsessively watching the minute changes in Hua Cheng’s face, mind fogging with every delectable groan out of an agape mouth. He wriggles in a searching finger along with his restless tongue, opening his husband up in earnest.
It’s only when he’s three fingers in that he crooks his fingers just right, pushing insistently at a particular bundle of nerves. Hua Cheng’s shut eye shoots open and he comes with a surprised moan, thick strings of white shooting out of the erect dick Xie Lian had neglected after the first orgasm. Xie Lian watches in awe as it twitches and twitches, not at all stopping his fingers from pressing on that spot, milking Hua Cheng greedily. Out of breath and so terribly enamored, Xie Lian scoots upward to suck at the tip of Hua Cheng’s cock, his own dick painful as it impossibly hardens even more at the broken sound the ghost king released.
“Dianxia, dianxia,” Hua Cheng repeats, over and over, like a mantra. Like a prayer. As though thinking the same, Hua Cheng’s familiar voice echoes in Xie Lian’s mind not even a second later, divinity coursing through his veins as he receives faith and fidelity and adherence all at once, his husband’s voice echoing in his ears. His breath hitches, heart thrumming violently against his chest. Dianxia, so good, so wonderful, you fuck this San Lang so good, make him feel so, so, so good. Oh, dianxia, how lucky is this one lowly follower for receiving such undivided attention? My one and only god, I—
“Shit,” Xie Lian curses under his breath, uncharacteristic but founded at the same time. He can’t, he can’t. Not anymore. Not with the whole of Hua Cheng blanketing him like this, not with Hua Cheng’s needy voice continuing to caress his mind sinfully. He straightens up and scoots closer, pressing his pelvis to the back of Hua Cheng’s thighs. Almost so incredulously taken by the sight, he drapes one of Hua Cheng’s legs on one of his shoulders once more, the other limp on their sides. He bites Hua Cheng’s calf and watches as his husband trembles, eye glistening with tears. Xie Lian lines his cock to the gaping hole, breaths coming in fast intervals.
“Ahh—“ Xie Lian moans, throwing his head back as he fully breaches Hua Cheng’s hot insides. Inch by inch, he pushes, and inch by inch, he settles. Hua Cheng mewls and whines, twitching uncontrollably on the bed as the head of Xie Lian’s cock presses directly against his abused prostate. The god holds him down by the hips, leaning forward and almost bending him in half to take his mouth in a searing kiss.
Hua Cheng would never hurt him out of bad intentions, as would Xie Lian. But they have set their boundaries with each other over and over again until it is etched deeply into their minds, until it is as familiar as the most familiar thing to them is. So Hua Cheng lets go. Clinging on his god’s back, his slightly long fingernails drag along the broad plane of toned muscles, tantalizingly carving red lines that Xie Lian would purposefully not let heal for longer than what is necessary. Xie Lian kisses Hua Cheng likes he wants to devour. He bites Hua Cheng’s lips as though he wants them to merge, to be one, to never separate. He entwines his tongue with Hua Cheng’s like the ghost king is the most delectable wine, and Xie Lian a connoisseur in a trance.
“Beautiful,” Xie Lian whispers in a low voice, enraptured by Hua Cheng’s dazed gaze. He propels forward, bed creaking underneath them at the force. Where Xie Lian’s back is marked by the insistence of Hua Cheng’s fingernails on yielding skin, the ghost king’s own pale one is rubbed to redness by the sheets beneath as his body moves along with Xie Lian’s forceful thrusts. His mouth remains open to let out inviting moans, throat clasped around these little declarations of satisfaction, of love. He raises his limp leg to wrap around Xie Lian’s waist, pulling the god infinitely closer, its leanness a brand on Xie Lian’s back. The god breathes heavily against the ghost king’s mouth, unbridled, “B—eautiful. My San Lang is the prettiest, ah, he was made just for me.”
“Yours,” Hua Cheng echoes, voice raspy. He keens as Xie Lian starts to mouth at his jaw again, no doubt leaving marks above the ones he’d made just a few moments ago, pace going faster as they both chased release, “Nhnn—yours, yours, yours! Dianxia, gege, this—this San Lang is yours, made for you, made—“
“Mine,” Xie Lian agrees, suddenly sitting back and shifting Hua Cheng with him, eyes flashing at Hua Cheng’s broken moan. Now, with Hua Cheng sitting on his lap, he could raise and drop Hua Cheng on his cock the way he wants, and he wants, he wants, so he spears Hua Cheng on his cock over and over, the other helpless to cling onto his shoulders for dear life, voice getting louder by the second. Hua Cheng absently pulls Xie Lian closer until the latter is close enough to the blazing skin of his chest, and with but a tilt of the head, Xie Lian has in his mouth a warm, pink nub, swirling the little protrusion with a wet tongue, licking and sucking like a man hungered. Hua Cheng hiccups, tilting his body further for Xie Lian to enjoy, the god passionately taking up his all too generous offer.
Somewhere along the way, Hua Cheng ducks down with a needy whimper, scrambling to take Xie Lian’s mouth in his. Xie Lian lets out a trembling sigh, breathing into Hua Cheng’s mouth and pressing closer. Their tongues dance in a desperate entangle, the god drinking in the whines and keens of his most devoted believer, the ghost king exploring his only muse as though it was the first time all over again, as though they hadn’t yet figured out all the little things about the other that brought out a shiver, a groan, a sob. Xie Lian sucks on Hua Cheng’s lower lip, creeping a searching hand towards his lower back—lower and lower and lower, until he’s tracing a hot finger in the crevice of his ass, tracing a hot finger along his stretched hole.
Hua Cheng jerks in surprise, pulling away and resting his forehead against Xie Lian’s to whisper, “Dianxia,” and again, “Gege, gege—dian—dianxia—“ and he hugs Xie Lian close, breathing incoherent mumblings right onto his face, his dark hair a curtain that falls on his sides and around their joined foreheads, blanketing them in a welcome darkness. Xie Lian moans when his fingers graze at his own dick, disappearing and reappearing into and out of his love’s hole, the sensation sending another rush of heat throughout his whole body. His toes curl and his head spins, a different kind of desperation urging him, to take and take and take, urging him to give as much—an all-consuming, almost obsessive haze that covers and embraces him with fiery want.
Panting, he shifts once more to lay down on his back, Hua Cheng sitting on top of him. Moaning at the towering figure of Hua Cheng over him, Xie Lian almost frantically plants his heels firmly on the bed, thrusting up with fueled vigor. He sets an unforgiving pace, unrelenting. Hua Cheng, feared ghost king, strongest of all—powerless as he is continuously driven in and out by his husband, tremors shaking his very core. The night is nigh and the red moon native to ghost city shines a corruptly bewitching scarlet on the wanton forms of the two, the heavenly official’s eyes skimming over the blooming marks all over his lover’s frame, the dribble of sweat along his skin. Hua Cheng always had a way of turning Xie Lian’s brain upside down in humor or debate or spar, but like this, like this—right now, Hua Cheng is utterly, truly, maddening, and Xie Lian is naught but a depraved fool in the face of it all.
Caught in the feast of their own making, they take and consume and consume and consume, breaths intermingling with one another in a dance of no return, bodies intertwined like red strings of a thousand lifetimes.
Xie Lian’s vision whitens as he comes, shooting load after load into his husband’s waiting hole. He hears Hua Cheng scream and instinctively raises both arms to catch his weakened form, holding him close as he twitches in overstimulation, shivers wracking through his body and by extension, through Xie Lian’s, as well, pressed up against each other as they are.
When Xie Lian comes to, it is to Hua Cheng’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, lower lip bitten so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if it drew blood. When Xie Lian trails fingers along Hua Cheng’s skin, the other gives a twitch, so overly sensitive after coming thrice. Enamored and so, so taken in by the sight, he cups Hua Cheng’s face and observes every little changes on his taut, pleasured face, moving his hands like a hot brand along the expanse of Hua Cheng’s body, just for the sake of touching. Hua Cheng curls in on him, whimpering, breathing shakily.
When Xie Lian kisses the tip of his ear, he moans once more, cock jerking into a surprised, dry orgasm.
Xie Lian sucks in a sharp breath, saying in awe, “San Lang, you came again.”
Hua Cheng’s answering whine shoots straight to his dick, the sound a delicious echo in his ears. Only feeling a little bit of shame in the face of his thoroughly wrecked husband, he acknowledges the heat already pooling at his gut once more.
He had never known desire until he met desire himself, clad in red robes and teasing smirks and a sharp eye.
So—veins hot and blood restless, Xie Lian slowly sits up, momentarily releasing his cock from the hot confines of his husband’s hole. Thinking that it just won’t do, he quickly and surely flips Hua Cheng to his back, his front to the bed, Xie Lian hugging Hua Cheng’s waist and raising it so that the ghost king was kneeling instead, ass raised. When Xie Lian slots himself back inside Hua Cheng’s leaking hole, the ghost king moans loudly, fully incoherent.
“I want more of San Lang,” Xie Lian whispers to Hua Cheng’s ear, draped all across the supreme’s back. The heat that encases him in its hold is greedier, even—stronger, and he darts out a purposeful tongue to lick at his husband’s earlobe, biting the tip of it harshly, “Is it alright?”
Hua Cheng only answers with a long groan, pushing up his ass to take his god further.
Xie Lian smiles deeply.