Chapter Text
Pei Ming liked to think of himself as an organized man. His apartment was never pristine, but always tidy. His schedule was well planned but still had room for fun. As someone who enjoyed the finer things and finer people in life, he had cultivated a careful balance that allowed him to pursue his interests without guilt and with as little harm to his lovers as possible (it wasn’t his fault they kept falling in love with him after he told them up front, very clearly, that he was only interested in physical companionship) and he liked it that way.
Then he got cleaved by a saber across his chest and took an arrow to the back, pinned between two people so hopelessly in love with each other that he almost felt infected by it. If Feng Xin was beautiful like the sun, glowing gold and blistering in his heat, Mu Qing was freshly fallen snow under the moonlight, frigid and stunning and unflappable. They were tragically perfect for each other.
He liked them. Really, he did. He wanted to fuck both their lights out but he also liked them as people, and that was made it suck so spectacularly when Mu Qing showed up on his doorstep in fishnets wanting to forget and Pei Ming couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“Get me drunk,” Mu Qing said simply.
Pei Ming stepped back and waved him in. “I was just heading out.”
Letting Mu Qing walk in front of him into the penthouse was perhaps not the wisest decision he’d ever made, tormenting him with the sight of a dancer’s legs encased in fishnet tights under black shorts just short enough for the pockets to stick out from under the hem, but those legs ended in black platform boots and confident steps that were more likely to dance on your grave than at your side.
“Where are you going?” Mu Qing asked, plucking a bottle of vodka off the top shelf of his often complimented display of alcohol, a row of five shelves behind his own personal bar, full to the brim with the best of the best. “Hey!”
Pei Ming took the bottle out of his hand before he could pour into the glass – the highball glass, he was trying to put vodka in a highball glass , the uncultured darling – he had grabbed from the selection on the bartop. “Mu Qing, have you ever had alcohol?”
“I know you’re not taking the moral high ground,” Mu Qing said, narrowing black lined eyes at him.
“Maybe I just don’t want you throwing up on my Persian rug,” Pei Ming countered, returning the bottle to its place on the shelf. “As for where I’m going, it’s a nightclub.”
“Fine, take me there and I’ll get drunk on my own. Your conscience and your rug will be spared,” Mu Qing said with an angelic smile, in the same way that Lucifer was technically an angel.
Pei Ming studied him. Physically, there was nothing to be remarked upon besides being exceptionally attractive, but he could see the darkness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before Ascension. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mu Qing said, looking away because there was everything to talk about, he just refused to.
Pei Ming put a hand on the bar on either side of him, trapping him against it but not touching him other than where his forearms brushed against Mu Qing’s elbows, protruding from his body since he had crossed his arms and really, it was a miracle they hadn’t got stuck that way. Mu Qing stared up at him unflinchingly, not quite as tall as him even in his boots, well accustomed to Pei Ming’s intrusions on his personal space. He uncrossed his arms and stretched them out to put his hands behind him on the edge of the bar, just outside of Pei Ming’s.
“You’re my friend,” Pei Ming said, looking him in his stormy gray eyes that didn’t shine the same silver they used to. “I don’t want to watch you spiral, and I’m not going to help you do it. You haven’t talked to anyone about him-”
“Don’t fucking talk about him,” Mu Qing said. He always said that, or some variation of it, when Pei Ming tried to bring him up.
Pei Ming would barely have to lean forward to be against him and he didn’t mind admitting he had wondered many times what Mu Qing’s body felt like under his endless supply of black clothes, and what it looked like. It didn’t help the way Mu Qing leaned back, hands almost touching Pei Ming’s on the edge of the bar, so much like an invitation that he probably didn’t know just how much he was testing Pei Ming’s restraint. Pei Ming had helped people forget before. He was good at it, reportedly. None of them had been his friend. Or the ex of his other friend, who was still scouring the earth for Mu Qing like a prophet seeking out the last words left behind by their god. Pinned. Saber and arrow. It sucked.
He didn’t fuck his friends, no matter how much Ling Wen deserved to be eaten out until she fainted for how hard she worked, or how much tension lingered below the surface of every display of mindless affection he showed Shi Wudu that weren’t as mindless as they were with everyone else. Friends were off limits. People had a habit of falling in love with him and getting hurt, and Pei Ming didn’t want his friends to meet that fate, the rare few who didn’t dismiss him as a womanizing asshole.
“At least take me,” Mu Qing said softly.
Pei Ming’s brain fizzled, sparked, and crumbled into a smoking pile of rubble. “What?”
“Take me with you,” Mu Qing said, straightening and it brought far too much of him into contact with Pei Ming’s body. “If you’re not going to help me get drunk, at least take me somewhere that the music’s too loud for me to think.”
“Ah,” Pei Ming said, slowly dismissing the fifty error codes that had replaced any coherent thoughts in his mind because of what he thought Mu Qing meant.
Mu Qing was wearing a loose black shirt that sat off his shoulders and it looked like he was wearing a black tank top underneath, all of it hanging low enough to expose the sharp line of his collarbone that Pei Ming didn’t want to bite, or suck, or lick, because Mu Qing was his friend and friends were off limits.
If only he could tell that to his dick. It seemed to think Mu Qing was very much on limits and that his pale thighs would make lovely earmuffs.
“Alright,” Pei Ming’s dick said for him, because his right mind definitely would not declare taking Mu Qing to a nightclub to be a good idea, but apparently that wasn’t the head doing the talking right now. Pei Ming pushed himself off the bar and away from all six feet of the walking bad idea that was Mu Qing, alone in his apartment. “I’ll go finish getting changed. Make yourself comfortable but do not touch the alcohol.”
“Whatever,” Mu Qing said, following him as far as the living room, where he sat on the leather couch and recrossed his arms.
Pei Ming unbuttoned his dress shirt as he went down the hallway to his bedroom, only to hear the sound of glass clinking almost as soon as his back was turned. He turned around with his shirt balled up in his hand and strode back into the living room. “Hey.”
Mu Qing was coming back from the bar with the glass he had been prevented from using earlier. “It’s water,” he said, and oho, he was looking . His eyes did a downward flick that would have been easy to miss if Pei Ming wasn’t so well practiced in looking for signs of interest, and the apartment was dimly lit at the moment but he could swear he saw some color saturate that fair complexion.
Pei Ming filed that information under things he was going to absolutely nothing about and went into his room, then into his closet. He cast a forlorn look at one of the velvet throw pillows on the bed, wishing he had the time to scream into it for a few minutes, but he didn’t want to leave Mu Qing unattended with a full bar and a broken heart any longer than necessary. He pulled a long sleeved, wine red shirt over his head that was tight on his arms just the way he liked it and no, it wasn’t just because of how hard he worked for his sculpted biceps, loose clothes just made him feel inexplicably anxious. Showing off his arms wasn’t a drawback, though.
Mu Qing was absently tracing the rim of his glass with his black painted fingertip when Pei Ming returned. “Can we go now?” Mu Qing asked like he hadn’t invited himself to Pei Ming’s outing, so he really had no right to be in a hurry but the attempt at abrasiveness was cute when the flush hadn’t quite faded from his cheeks yet.
They took his car and Mu Qing spent the ride in silence, the city lights pouring through the window and painting him their neon colors, his monochrome features all but the perfect canvas. Pei Ming wanted to try to bring It up again but he knew he shouldn’t push it, pushing Mu Qing only resulted in him shutting down, and he had at least trusted Pei Ming enough to come to him to get drunk instead of doing so on his own. They could cross swords over the whole Feng Xin issue another time.
Mu Qing didn’t appear as far out of his element walking into the nightclub as Pei Ming expected, but he guessed Mu Qing had been to enough of his roommate’s concerts – and participated in them, but he was sure Mu Qing would prefer to think Pei Ming didn’t know he was the silver haired Xuan Zhen that sang with He Xuan from time to time – to be used to them by now.
“It’s huge,” Mu Qing said, looking around the two story nightclub.
The lights cycled through the full spectrum of color like most did in clubs, but rather than flashing between them, it was a slow, hypnotic fade from one to the other that Pei Ming found pleasing to the eye. He led Mu Qing upstairs to the private tables, one of which Pei Ming had reserved, overlooking the dance floor and the stage where the DJ was playing. Mu Qing leaned on the railing and looked at the mass of teeming bodies below.
“Do you want to dance?” Pei Ming asked, seeing the vague hint of longing in his eyes.
Mu Qing blinked and looked over at him where Pei Ming had joined him in leaning against the railing. “Together?”
In hindsight, Pei Ming had chosen his words poorly. He had meant it as a general question but Mu Qing looked pleased by the idea, so he smiled and offered his hand. Mu Qing stared at it and Pei Ming could only imagine how little physical touch he had experienced since he graduated, so slowly did Mu Qing take it. Pei Ming led him back downstairs and to the edge of the dance floor, where it was at least somewhat less likely for Mu Qing to be swamped on all sides by people grinding against the closest warm body.
“Have you ever danced in a club?” Pei Ming leaned down to ask in his ear.
Mu Qing pressed his lips together, clearly embarrassed, and leaned up to answer, “Not to music like this.”
The music in question was bass-heavy electronic dance and certainly different from the rock that Mu Qing preferred, and Pei Ming could already see the discomfort taking hold of him, standing on a dance floor without moving, and hoped he would at least get some good karma or something for how much of his sanity he sacrificed to say, “Come here.”
He turned Mu Qing so that his back was against Pei Ming’s chest, Mu Qing looking back at him with trepidation, his face close and his body closer. Pei Ming put his hands on Mu Qing’s hips and started to move, guiding them to mirror his movements. Mu Qing was stiff at first but following each other’s lead was something they had gotten good at when they were on the fencing team together, and he had a natural fluidity about him that had his hips moving to the rhythm even once Pei Ming was no longer guiding them, just resting there and feeling them roll beneath his hands.
“Okay?” Pei Ming called over the music.
Mu Qing rolled his shoulders and Pei Ming felt the entire movement against his chest. “I’m fine. Don’t baby me like one of your conquests, Pei Ming.”
Oh darling, if you were one of my conquests you would be laid out on the bar in my apartment, but let’s not go there, Pei Ming thought with equal amounts of pain and amusement. He decided to do as Mu Qing asked, if he was going to be so insistent. This outing had been intended for relaxing after a week of bouncing between school and interning at the law firm, after all. It was supposed to be fun. And despite Mu Qing’s personality giving one the impression he had a fatal allergy to enjoying himself, his body spoke another language, one that taunted and teased with promises untold. Worst (or best) of all was that Mu Qing didn’t seem to do it on purpose, he just followed the music as naturally as anyone else walked a straight line.
Unfortunately Mu Qing was not a straight line. He was a very fucking blurry one, separating Pei Ming from his self imposed rules and code of honor from a bottomless gray area governed by that sharp tongue and serpentine hips.
Pei Ming started to dance with him properly. He enjoyed Mu Qing’s company, which is why they were friends, and there was no need to prohibit himself from that enjoyment for the sake of propriety. Pei Ming was a grown man who could keep his dick under control and dance with his friend, for the record.
The song changed to something slower but even heavier in bass, pounding through the room like a headboard against the wall, and Mu Qing fell into it with arms winding behind him to loop around Pei Ming’s neck, his head falling back against Pei Ming’s chest. Pei Ming looked down and saw his eyes closed, his trademark scowl absent, and wondered if it was the first peace he’d felt since Feng Xin stopped coming to his window.
It was easy to get lost in the music and the rhythm between their bodies once he stopped thinking about it so much, which was quite unlike him to begin with but Mu Qing just had to be a pesky exception to all the rules. Song after song passed until they both glistened with a thin veil of sweat and Mu Qing started leaning more of his weight against him. Those shoes had to be murder on his feet, but he did look delectable in them.
Pei Ming didn’t think dancing and sex were all that different. They were both a celebration, a meeting of two bodies finding a pace together, passion expressed in its rawest forms. Mu Qing wielded his body much differently from his sword, moving with him rather than against him, and Pei Ming had to wonder which way he would go as a lover, if it would be a clash of steel or if he would be given the supple, compliant creature in his arms, so quick to mold to him just the way he wanted. Oh, how he wanted to take Mu Qing and reshape him with pleasure he’d never known, take him to heights he didn’t think possible, to see how he looked reaching that zenith in ecstasy.
Poor Feng Xin, Pei Ming sympathized. Mu Qing was a goddamn drug.
That it felt good to have a warm body against his back was not so much to be remarked on as the fact it simply felt. It felt like something that didn’t hurt. Those had been his options for the past several months, pain or numbness, a constant cycle of picking his poison and switching to one when he could no longer stomach the taste of the other. Mu Qing found it surprisingly easy to let his head fall back against Pei Ming’s chest. Mu Qing didn’t always like him and he sure as hell didn’t love him but he trusted him, and Pei Ming was one of the last remaining people in his life he could say that about. It was enough. For tonight, it was enough to trust, and feel something again.
The tension had started to melt off Pei Ming’s body. Mu Qing had dueled with him too many times to break the habit of noticing the most subtle cues in his body language, and he could feel when Pei Ming stopped keeping him at arms length, figuratively speaking. His large, long fingered hands went from sitting on the sides of Mu Qing’s hips to grasping them, his fingertips occasionally brushing over Mu Qing’s bare skin when his movements pulled the hem of his tank top up.
The music picked up and Mu Qing turned to face Pei Ming, tossing his ponytail back over his shoulder as he did and saw dark eyes pull instantly to the arch of his neck and oh, it had been awhile since he felt that. It had become such a foreign feeling that Mu Qing almost didn’t recognize it, the warmth on his skin from someone looking and wanting. He liked feeling wanted again and he was probably pathetic for it but who were the walls of a nightclub to judge him, that had surely seen equally pathetic people?
Mu Qing slid his fingers into soft, dark hair and met Pei Ming’s intense gaze. Maybe he was bearing his throat to a wolf but he had offered his body and heart to a lionhearted man before, so Pei Ming’s beastly desires didn’t intimidate him. This time his heart wasn’t a factor and that made it worlds easier to fall into the fire of Pei Ming’s eyes. He wanted to burn again, he wanted to burn and forget.
At some point he leaned up or Pei Ming leaned down. They were still dancing, and being close enough to Pei Ming for their noses to touch made the way their hips moved together feel like so much more than just dancing. Mu Qing was glad for the colorful lights to cover the flush that he knew rose to his face, parting his lips to breathe because breathing had gotten harder in the last few seconds, for some reason.
Mu Qing closed the distance and was brought up short by a hand on the nape of his neck, holding him in place. It didn’t try to pull him away but it didn’t bring him closer. Not a rejection. So, it was going to be a fight for control, Mu Qing realized, looking at the tight set of Pei Ming’s infuriatingly sharp jawline. What he didn’t know was who, between the two of them, that Pei Ming was vying for control of.
“Can we leave?” Mu Qing asked.
The hand still on his hip tightened, just a little. Pei Ming somehow gave the impression of towering over him even though Mu Qing was barely shorter than him in his boots, but Pei Ming had a strong presence and broad shoulders, and interestingly, Mu Qing didn’t hate how small the other man made him feel. Pei Ming’s hand slid off the back of his neck. “Very well, darling.”
Mu Qing bit his lip. He had always dismissed the pet name as inconsequential in the past but the way it fell from Pei Ming’s lips now, like a promise and a warning all wrapped up in a single utterance of his sonorous voice, sent a chill down his back.
Pei Ming’s hand on his waist was scorching as they left the club and walked back to the car. As soon as they were outside, the open air around them became suffocating, oppressive in how suddenly alone they were. Being alone with Pei Ming had never made him nervous before. Mu Qing knew he didn’t push himself on people who didn’t reciprocate his interest, but Mu Qing was straddling that line in a way he’d never done in all the time they’d known each other.
He let Pei Ming open his door for him, too preoccupied to refuse. God, if being alone outside was suffocating, being alone in the car reached into his lungs and pulled the air out, it was so stifling. They sat in the dark car in silence. Mu Qing hadn’t put his seat belt on and he didn’t know why, maybe because the thought of anything constricting his chest sounded like torture, but then, why hadn’t Pei Ming put his on either? Mu Qing knew he had put it on before they left the apartment. He was overthinking, he could feel it starting, but he had never been able to stop it even when he recognized it and tonight was no exception.
“Mu Qing.”
Mu Qing looked over and found Pei Ming’s elbow resting on the center console, and two dark eyes staring at him from much closer than he was expecting. He smelled so good. Mu Qing hadn’t realized he was chewing his lip until he had to release it to respond, “Yes.”
He meant it as a question, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe without realizing it he had offered it as exactly what it was; permission, an invitation, almost a plea, because fuck he missed being touched.
Pei Ming grabbed the back of his neck and then years of pent-up attraction was being pressed against Mu Qing’s mouth, and he tilted his head into it, parted his lips. He latched on to Pei Ming, hands fisted in the front of his shirt to haul him closer. Pei Ming made something of a deep purring sound into the kiss that went straight to Mu Qing’s cock. Mu Qing could feel a wall of hard muscle behind the shirt he held onto, he’d seen it for himself earlier and he wanted to touch and he wanted to be touched back, which would be easily accommodated if the hot slide of Pei Ming’s lips against his was any indication.
Pei Ming leaned his tall body across the console, driving Mu Qing back but also holding him captive, the hand on his neck giving him no escape even as Pei Ming did things to his mouth that had no right being as sexual as they were and he wasn’t even using his tongue. Mu Qing tried to give as good as he got but for the most part he could only hold on as he was shown the prowess that resulted from Pei Ming’s many lovers and an apparent dedication to learning how to please them.
“Pei Ming,” he gasped as soon as he was given a reprieve. “Can you just drive already?”
The taller man laughed but Mu Qing had seen the hungry glint in his eyes when he said Pei Ming’s name, an expression that flooded Mu Qing with nervousness and anticipation for what he was in for when they got back to the apartment. Pei Ming stroked a thumb over his kiss-swollen lower lip and Mu Qing bit it. Not hard, just enough for Pei Ming to withdraw it with a wicked grin that said he didn’t mind a little pain.
“Drive,” Mu Qing said again, straightening in his seat and pulling his seat belt on.
Pei Ming started the car with a smirk. “Whatever you say, kitten.”
Mu Qing felt so much blood rush to his face he thought he would pass out. He sputtered wordlessly, giving up after a few false starts, not even sure why he was so disarmed by the bestowing of another pet name. He told himself that Pei Ming’s dark chuckle at his reaction did not affect him, turning to stare petulantly out the window. Kitten. Kitten.
His cock twitched against the stiff seam of his shorts and his eyes widened in panic. Oh, no. He liked it.
Pei Ming kept his hands to himself in the elevator, which was no small feat with Mu Qing’s lips still red and his face nearly the same color. One kiss and that unwavering confidence of his had fallen to pieces. It was endearing, and incredibly arousing to see his cool facade crack.
They walked into the apartment and he saw Mu Qing jolt at the sound of the lock engaging. Mu Qing let himself be guided to the couch and his eyes were rapt to Pei Ming’s every movement as they sat down, side by side. Pei Ming reached down and picked up his feet, smiling at Mu Qing’s indignant sound as his boots were pulled into Pei Ming’s lap, his body forced to twist to the side. Mu Qing fell back on the couch on his elbows, brows drawn together and mouth pinched with annoyance. That simply wouldn’t do.
Pei Ming unlaced his boots and pulled them off one at a time, more than a little entranced by Mu Qing’s toes curling anxiously under his fishnets. He wanted so badly to make them curl for real but he liked to take his time. If he was making an exception to the rule, he might as well give Mu Qing special treatment while he was at it, and he watched Mu Qing’s face as he pressed a thumb into the arch of his foot. His mouth fell open and yes, that was better, that scowl had no business returning to his face anytime soon. Pei Ming kneaded the tendons drawn too tight from dancing in platform boots for god knows how many songs they danced to, and Mu Qing’s elbows shook before forsaking his weight entirely, his body falling flat against the couch. He made high pitched little sounds that started as protests and ended in pleasure since Pei Ming wouldn’t let him finish one without doing something that made his black painted toes curl again.
Pei Ming didn’t consider himself someone with a foot fetish but there was something about Mu Qing’s peeking out from under his fishnets that made him furiously hard. Mu Qing hung on to the side of the couch with one hand and the back of the couch with the other, laying sideways over the leather cushions, back arching the slightest bit when Pei Ming found a sweet spot. Mu Qing’s shorts were tented at the apex of his thighs and oh, how Pei Ming wanted them wrapped around his head.
“You know, I have to ask you some things before we do anything,” Pei Ming said, picking up his other foot to give it the same treatment. “If you want to do anything, that is.”
“Can we skip the questionnaire?” Mu Qing asked with a whine in his voice.
Pei Ming’s attention was divided between answering him and trying to ignore that the foot he’d let go of was currently sitting on his dick, so it took him a moment to answer. “Afraid not, darling.”
“Wha- ah, what do you want to know?”
“Boundaries, kinks, safeword. Triggers, if you have any. Do you have a safeword?”
Mu Qing fidgeted. “No.”
“Does green, yellow, and red work for you? If you can’t talk, just tap.”
“What, tap once for yellow – oh, do that again – and twice for red?”
Pei Ming did as he was asked and was rewarded with the sight of Mu Qing’s head, which he had raised to look at him, dropping heavily against the couch again. “If you can’t speak, there is no yellow. Tapping is a full stop, no exceptions. Yellow and red sound very different from each other but say I don’t feel the first tap, and tapping out twice is red, that’s a problem.”
“Do you just have an instruction manual I could read?” Mu Qing griped.
“Boundaries, triggers, tell me what’s off limits.” Pei Ming had rubbed his feet until there wasn’t a trace of tension in them that his fingers could alleviate, so now he was just stroking over them as he talked.
Mu Qing shifted, letting go of the couch to cross his arms. “I d-don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Just...don’t bring him up.”
“Restraints?”
“I guess? I’ve never tried them, it’s whatever,” Mu Qing said, the flush in his face creeping down his neck.
Pei Ming raised his eyebrows. “Toys?”
“I don’t know!”
“Okay, okay,” Pei Ming soothed, realizing Mu Qing had been dining exclusively on vanilla since he lost his virginity. He remembered a sharp intake of breath earlier and looked down at Mu Qing as he asked, “And what about dirty talk, kitten?”
Heat flashed in Mu Qing’s eyes followed immediately by embarrassment, and Pei Ming grinned. He hadn’t expected there to be such a timid little thing under those layers of indifference and disinterest, and he was delighted. There was so much he would get to show his darling Mu Qing, sensations to expose him to that no one had seen him experience yet, and Pei Ming felt bad that Feng Xin couldn’t be there to revel in it with him but he could always pass along his findings if they ever got back together.
“Last questions,” Pei Ming said, looking down the miles of legs to Mu Qing’s face. “What do you want to do tonight, and are you certain you want to do it?”
Mu Qing sat up with narrowed eyes and pressed his foot down, and oh dear, he did know it was on Pei Ming’s dick, apparently. Pei Ming’s eyes closed at the mix of discomfort and arousal at having his cock pushed down by the delicate arch of Mu Qing’s foot and huh, maybe he did have a thing for feet. Or perhaps he was just attracted to all of Mu Qing’s appendages indiscriminately.
“I want you,” Mu Qing started sweetly, grinding his foot down in his lap, “to fuck me. Is that clear enough, or do you have some of those letter magnets on the refrigerator so I can spell it out for you?”
Pei Ming was only human.
He pulled Mu Qing up off the couch like a ragdoll and sat him astride his lap, Mu Qing catching himself with his hands on Pei Ming’s shoulders, lashes fluttering as their arousals pressed against each other through their respective layers of denim. Mu Qing had precisely that moment and no longer to steady himself before Pei Ming was standing with him in tow.
“I can walk on my own!” Mu Qing snapped, shoving against his chest.
Pei Ming hummed, occupied with the feeling of Mu Qing’s fishnet clad thighs sitting in his hands. His lips curled up at the fists that pounded against his chest; he knew Mu Qing was strong, so if he was actually protesting, Pei Ming would wake up with bruises but Mu Qing was barely putting any force behind it. It seemed that he liked some manhandling.
He walked slow so he could kiss the pale neck presented to him, which earned him a somewhat more sincere whack against the side of the head.
“Do you plan on fucking me tonight?” Mu Qing asked.
“Do you want me to fuck you now?”
“Yes, I thought I was pretty clear-”
Pei Ming silenced him by pressing him against the wall of the narrow hallway, one of the many curious features of the apartment, the hallway narrow to allow for larger rooms, but it made Mu Qing look even more swallowed up by his larger frame so he wasn’t complaining for the time being. He held Mu Qing’s gaze as he flicked open his shorts, Mu Qing’s chest rising and falling a bit faster at the action, but obligingly dropping his legs from Pei Ming’s waist for them to be slid down his legs.
“I’ll fuck you right here, if you’re so impatient,” Pei Ming said, discarding his shorts. He pulled both of Mu Qing’s shirts off in one movement and cast them aside as well. “Then, once I get you settled down, I’ll have you properly.”
Mu Qing was as beautiful as he’d imagined and such was the glory of human bodies that no two looked the same, that even Pei Ming’s imagination could not have anticipated every detail, the scattering of freckles across his shoulders, the clear, hard lines of definition in his stomach. He was lovely. His eyes followed Pei Ming’s hands as he undressed himself, but while Pei Ming was taking his shirt off, he felt hands on his belt buckle. He watched, pleased as Mu Qing opened it, then his jeans, fingers hesitating at the waistband of his silk underwear. His eyes went unfocused and uncertain.
“It’s okay to have second thoughts, we don’t have to continue,” Pei Ming said, guiding those frozen hands away from his waist.
“No, shut up,” Mu Qing snapped, and wrenched them free to shove his jeans and underwear down so aggressively Pei Ming was surprised his dick didn’t go with them.
Mu Qing looked him over, then wrapped a hand around Pei Ming’s cock, lips parting as his palm slid over the hot flesh. He stroked it a couple times before muttering with far less bravado than before, “You can t-touch me.”
The request behind his words was obvious and Pei Ming was all too happy to comply. He gathered Mu Qing up in his arms again and trapped him between his body and the wall. Mu Qing locked his legs around him, gasping when his cock pressed against Pei Ming’s stomach. Pei Ming shuffled through the items he’d collected from his jeans before he was divested of them, having been holding the two packets between his fingers, and tore one of them open. Mu Qing watched him pour lubricant over his fingers with flushed cheeks and Pei Ming wanted to do everything to him but that would have to wait until he took the edge off.
Pei Ming hiked him up higher against the wall and slipped a finger between his legs once the lubricant had warmed on his fingers. “Color?”
“For fuck’s sake-”
“Mu Qing,” he interjected, grasping the younger man’s chin to make Mu Qing look at him. “I adore that bratty attitude of yours to no fathomable end, but I take safewording and color checks seriously. For both of our sake. So, again, color.”
“Green,” Mu Qing whispered.
“Thank you.”
Pei Ming watched the pinched, embarrassed look on his face melt into pleasure as he circled Mu Qing’s entrance with his finger. Mu Qing closed his eyes when it breached him, shivering, hands tightening their grasp on Pei Ming’s shoulders. He was tighter than a virgin and hotter inside than all seven rings of Hell, burning Pei Ming’s finger, blazing straight to his cock with arousal at the thought of having that wrapped around him.
“Is there a color for more?” Mu Qing gasped.
Pei Ming laughed. “‘More’ works. That’s good, keep talking to me, darling. Tell me what you want,” he said, working a second finger into him.
Mu Qing pulled his lip between his teeth but didn’t quite manage to hold back the low whine the second finger elicited from him. Pei Ming wondered how severely he had neglected pleasuring himself, to be so tight, to be so sensitive. Some people were just like that, of course, but he was getting the distinct impression Mu Qing hadn’t got off for quite some time. Pei Ming supposed he could forgive the impatience that deprived him of his favored, slow build-up, so long as he got to take him apart the way he liked later.
He let Mu Qing continue his arbitrary attempt at silence. Mu Qing wasn’t ready to have all the layers stripped away yet, but when it was time, he was going to make him sing.
Pei Ming added a third finger when the rocking of Mu Qing’s hips became eager again, and the addition stilled him, Mu Qing’s head falling back against the wall. He let go of Pei Ming’s shoulder with one hand to press it against his mouth, biting on his knuckles as those three fingers scissored and twisted inside him. Pei Ming started to fuck them in and out slowly, Mu Qing’s legs shaking much harder around him now, his feet scrambling for purchase against his lower back.
He treated himself to the memory of a sharp scowl and form fitting school uniform, holding it up to the Mu Qing getting fingered up against the wall of his apartment, not so haughty now with his pretty cock weeping between them, not half so disdainful with his knuckles stuffed into his mouth that only half muffled the desperate sounds he made. At one time Pei Ming thought it would be a joy to tame him but he had realized along the way that it would be far more satisfying to simply let Mu Qing sink his claws in and run wild.
Pei Ming angled his wrist to go for the place he had carefully avoided thus far, and pressed his fingers firmly against the bundle of nerves deep inside.
Mu Qing cried out loudly against his hand, his cock pulsing out precome that dripped down onto Pei Ming’s forearm. Pei Ming smiled. “You almost came.”
“D-Did not,” Mu Qing said, lowering his reddened knuckles from his mouth and Pei Ming took advantage, thrusting his fingers in and out and hitting his prostate every time. “ Oh, oh my – fuck, fuck, just, oh god, fuck me.”
So his darling could sing as beautifully for cock as he did into a microphone. Pei Ming wouldn’t mind fucking him in that silver wig he wore on stage, but more importantly he got to fuck him now, as Mu Qing had so ardently requested. He withdrew his fingers and grabbed the second packet, which he’d stuck between the wall and the framed art on the wall a couple feet away. Mu Qing watched him rip the corner of the foil packet off with his teeth, his feverish eyes never leaving Pei Ming’s as he rolled the condom on, then slicked it with what remained of the lubricant. Pei Ming could see the exact moment Mu Qing registered the head of his cock against his entrance, his mouth falling open just as his body did around his cock, parting so well for him. He was glad Mu Qing had been with Feng Xin before so that this wouldn’t be a painful experience, or at least it wouldn’t be for long, once he adjusted. Pei Ming wasn’t as big as the famed Ju Yang of locker room legend but he was far enough above average for it to have been remarked upon by several partners.
“You’re taking it so good,” Pei Ming said, pushing Mu Qing’s sweat slicked bangs off his face.
Mu Qing made the broken sound of someone who hadn’t felt wanted or praised for something in far too long. His eyes were scrunched shut, mouth open as Pei Ming gradually sheathed himself inside his body. Pei Ming lowered Mu Qing down the last couple inches and they both moaned when he was buried to the hilt.
He kissed Mu Qing while his body adjusted to the intrusion, Mu Qing’s tongue slipping into his mouth, his tongue ring hard against the roof of Pei Ming’s mouth and Pei Ming licked at the bottom of the piercing appreciatively. Mu Qing whined into the kiss and Pei Ming shifted his grip. He liked to start slow, but he didn’t think Mu Qing would allow that, so he pressed Mu Qing harder against the wall, holding him around his hips, fingers splayed to hold that unreasonably shapely ass apart for his cock.
Pei Ming pulled out and reentered carefully, gauging his readiness, and grinned when he felt only encouragement from those warm walls trying to pull his cock back in. He gave Mu Qing what he wanted and started to truly fuck him.
Mu Qing’s moan bordered the edge of a scream, arms winding around Pei Ming’s neck as Pei Ming drove into him, slamming his back into the wall with every thrust. Mu Qing kicked his legs out, the hallway so narrow he was able to plant his feet on the wall behind Pei Ming, and once they were braced he started to move down against Pei Ming’s thrusts, and goddamn it felt incredible. Pei Ming had figured him for a pillow princess, to be completely honest.
“Pei Ming, Pei Ming,” Mu Qing chanted breathlessly.
Well, he was going to be masturbating to that for years.
Pei Ming mouthed at his jawline. “You feel amazing, Mu Qing.” He was surprised to find himself panting the words against Mu Qing’s damp skin; usually he could keep his own excitement reigned in for at least the first hour or two before he became outwardly affected, preferring to focus on his partner’s pleasure, but his name falling from that sharp tongue would be his ruin.
Mu Qing’s inhibitions began to fall like pieces of armor being dropped after a battle, his moans loud and eager, riding Pei Ming’s thrusts with abandon. His fingers twisted into Pei Ming’s hair but the stinging in his scalp was a small price to pay for the victory he claimed over Mu Qing’s writhing body.
“Can you come like this?” Pei Ming asked, minding his tone so that it didn’t sound taunting.
“Y-Yes, just don’t, oh, oh fuck, don’t stop.”
Pei Ming kissed one of his high cheekbones. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Pei Ming,” he gasped with a note of panic, his walls clenching erratically.
“That’s it,” Pei Ming breathed, and stroked his tongue over the three black studs in Mu Qing’s ear. “Come for me, kitten.”
Mu Qing’s moans broke apart into a gasped chant of, “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” as if Pei Ming would give him anything less than exactly what he wanted.
The heat enveloping Pei Ming’s cock seized, so tight he almost came, then pulsed with orgasm, Mu Qing shaking violently and crying out one of the sexiest moans Pei Ming had ever heard and that was a long list to contend with. Pei Ming fucked him steadily, drawing out more of those moans as Mu Qing came and came. “That’s it,” Pei Ming said with nothing short of reverence, seeing his reserved, uptight Mu Qing come all over himself from nothing except Pei Ming’s cock.
Mu Qing’s legs gave a final spasm around his sides and then slid bonelessly from the wall behind him. His weight doubled in Pei Ming’s arms as he lost the strength to support himself, but Pei Ming still held him up with ease, Mu Qing hooking his feet around each of Pei Ming’s legs in a feeble attempt to hang on.
He stepped away from the wall and Mu Qing jerked as the movement shifted Pei Ming’s cock that was still buried inside him. “You, you’re still-”
“Oh, don’t you worry, there will be time for that,” Pei Ming said, carrying him into the bedroom.
Mu Qing opened his eyes as he was laid out on the bed. “What do you mean?”
Pei Ming slid out of him and threw the condom away; he wouldn’t have need of it again for awhile. He guided Mu Qing’s legs apart and onto his shoulders, Mu Qing watching with wide eyes. Pei Ming slid down so that his face was above Mu Qing’s cock. “Darling, you didn’t think we were done, did you?”
“Oh,” Mu Qing said in a small voice as Pei Ming’s head dipped down, and then much louder, “Oh.”